Author: Mozayik "the souls' poet"

The true story told in poetry. I am a Real and Raw Poet and Author of ”The Souls’ Poetry” my soul's true story of its’ journey to healing from the pain of childhood sexual trauma. I blog about my three-year commitment to therapy and what life is like before and after healing. Decreasing the stigma of mental illness, inspiring women to tell their stories, and leading women To and Through Therapy is my mission.

Sing Cry Moan

Barren Hearts, Fruitful Wombs

sing for the mothers
cry for the mothers
moan for the mothers
with barren hearts and fruitful wombs

spirits broken
leaky souls drained of love
wail their moans
weep for their wounds
who understands their woe
the liquor they swallow
is to dull the pain
their world is a dungeon
filled with heroin or crack cocaine
coursing through their veins

they use to silence terrorist demons
that torment their souls
who will really see
that the men creeping in and out
of their bedroom doors
are only a band-aid for heart aching sores
don’t call them whore or junkies
they’re only a product of this country

striped of ancestral wisdom
culture snatched
when foremothers were brought
to these so called united shores
they united in striping us
of our dignity language and families
it’s time to restore
it’s time to look
these mothers in the eyes
look at the reality of why they cry

sing for the mothers
cry for the mothers
moan for the mothers
barren hearts fruitful womb

accept them as they are
show them you care
everyone has a reason
why they are what they are
some are only scarred
unable to cope so they take dope
they have no faith
in these so-called united states
they only do what they’ve seen
of course they lie
this country was founded on a lie
they spew out slander trick and connive
it the only way they know to survive

her foremothers were slaves
and she still has a slave’s mentality
she sacrifices her children for a dollar
or any man giving her a holla
we were brought here
robbed of our heritage
they threw us their garbage
and some of us sucked it up
happily grateful for some sup
it’s time to throw that shit back
let us educate our own

sing for the mothers
cry for the mothers
moan for the mothers
barren hearts fruitful womb

yeah she’s a dirty disease infested
skinny drug addicted alcoholic
wearing a dress of death and gloom
she may have lied cheated deserted
and aborted the fruit of her womb
we can still take her in our arms
lovingly accept and educate her
show her she is a descendant of queens
mother to the pharaohs of Egypt

maybe then we’ll see mothers
with fruitful wombs and loving hearts
giving birth to a proud nation
that nurtures their sisters and brothers
maybe then there won’t be
any more killing of ourselves
or our babies dying in the streets
shot down by faces
that look like you and me
who is willing to go
into the spiritual birthing room and labor

sing a song for the mothers
cry for the mothers
moan for the mothers
who are not yet free
in these so-called united states

 

I wrote this poem while sitting in a Ethiopian Juice Bar.  It was close to mother’s day and I was dreading the day as usual.  Every year mother’s day was the start of a very long depression that lasted sometimes until July.  The period would include my birthday because I knew I would not get a call from my mother acknowledging my birth. Also, ironically my twin boys were born on mother’s day and after placing them for adoption of course this forever branded this day in my heart as a day to not be remembered.

I have since healed and no longer go into deep depression at this time of the year.  I think it is mainly because I understand my mother more and I truly forgive her and have healed a lot from the effects of the childhood abuse and neglect.  I realize now that my mother had her own demons of abuse to deal with and she is only a product of her environment. I have also healed more because I have forgiven myself.  I have tried to renew my relationship with my sons.

Maya Angelou has been quoted as saying “when we know better we do better”  My mother did not have a clue how to mother me as I did not have a clue how to mother my own children.  I made horrible mistakes just as she did in mothering me.  I know that mental illness and substance abuse played a big part in my mother’s treatment of me.  I know that just like me she did what she knew how to do and I am not angry at her anymore.  She has not really changed but I have. I already see cycle being broken in my own children.

I have so much compassion for women that struggle to mother in spite of  not having the necessary tools.

Survivor (when my own soul encouraged me)

you are a survivor girl
stand up and be strong
you’ve made it
through storms of  hard times

you’ve seen bad marriages
the let downs of dreams
but you’re still here

so it seems you can’t make it
seems you can’t see your way
but you’ve made it this far girlfriend
you survived, through it all till this day

go ahead on and be strong.
You’re a survivor because
you’ve hung in there this long.

Gone girl with your bad self
only you know what you can do.

just try it.
just believe in your self.

Don’t wait for somebody
to tell you that you can make it through.
you know what you’ve got to do

reach deep down inside yourself and
pull out what has been there for so long
stand up and be strong.

girl whatever it took
to make it through a bad marriage
to a drug addict and wife beater.

whatever it took to make it
through abuse and rejection

whatever it took when
you were put down,

lied to and talked about.

but you made it through.
you held your head up high
and you kept on going.

girl you can do it
all you gotta do is
stand up and be strong

believe in your self

you are a survivor girl,

go ahead on!

Agony

my groans are unutterable

the pain is too deep

the cries have no sound

and yet I weep

the soul is bound

with love nowhere found

not one person to connect with

“I am bound”

not one person to understand

that my suffering is my own

conceived by a wicked plan

if you say you love me

why can’t I feel it

why is your touch non-existent

am I alone in this great big world

will there be healing for this little girl

How are you supposed to feel about yourself when  accused of trying to kill your little brother at the age of three or four.  You know the truth although you are only three years old.  You know that your mother is lying to cover her own ass.  She knows damn well she left a three-year old and a two-year old in the apartment by themselves.  This is my very first memory of childhood.

Again, please let me say that I do not want pity.  I truly believe my soul chose the circumstances of my life.  All of these traumas were mine to experience to get the lessons I needed to evolve.  But, that does not mean I did not feel, or endure the effects of the traumas.  I am telling my story because I feel compelled to do so.  Maybe it is just for me to finally purge this crap.  Or, it might be someone needs to know they can make it and see that it does get better with time and hard work.

Yeah, it sucks that you have to fix your self.  I know there are people who have experienced things more horrific  but if my soul chose this, then it is safe to say that this is all I could handle.  We all walk our own path.

I would hear “yo mama did not want you, if it were not for me aint no telling where your little high yellow ass would be”  This may have been true but the delivery of the message was brutal.  I grew up feeling like I owed everybody something.  I felt I did not deserve love.  Come on, if I were worthy my mother would not have left me, right.  I could not see that them taking me in and protecting me was Love. My grandmother was correct, if she and my auntie and great-grandmother had not took me in only God knows………….

Fear was my everything.  It helped me survive when I was a child but as an adult it stopped me from having healthy relationships.  Through therapy I have learned to not take my mother’s neglect (leaving me in apartment alone for at least 2 days) personally.  I was caught up in her drama or sickness and it had nothing to do with me except this was what my soul chose.  She would have been what she was even if I had never been born.  Knowing that has freed me so much that words can not explain.  It wasn’t my fault.

I still had to heal from the side effects of her does not remove the effects of her boyfriend raping me when I was five years old.  I have abandonment issues, trust issues and fear was a part of my   Anger was my armor.  It kept people away from me so they could not hurt me.  Anger made me powerful and in control but nothing could be further from the truth.  It was controlling me because my anger was always inappropriate to the situation.

I really would not trade anything for my journey.  Everything is Everything and it all has a purpose.  It took me a while to get here but all that matters is I am here.  Love

p.s.

My brother survived only to die at the age 36 from the effects of alcoholism and drug addiction.  I don’t believe he ever healed from the abuse and neglect.

Dying for Love

In the pursuit of love

little girls take candy from strangers

women throw away their dreams

while scheming on how to get

whatever is missing in themselves

men give up trying

start drowning in the alcohol well

we are all dying

trying to find love

My second ex-husband told me I was a fool for trying to make him love me.  He was more right than he knows and that I wanted to admit.  I literally gave my life for him.  I had my tubes tied when I was 18 because I knew 3 was enough at 18 years old.  I told the doctor  that I refuse to sign the surgery authorization unless he would included the tubal ligation.  I was pregnant with twins from my first husband.  Well the doctor cut off the fimbriae of my fallopian tubes essentially making it impossible to reverse the procedure.

Years later when I wanted to (give) my second husband children we did in vitro fertilization which consisted of daily intramuscular injections, two minor and one major surgery, along with 4 months of complete bed rest   with 8 weeks spent in the hospital.  I delivered triplets that were born healthy.  I thought this man deserved children so I made it my mission to give him some.  After the children were born he treated me like sh*t on the bottom of his shoe that he would go to any lengths to remove.  He let me know that when they were 18 he was leaving me.

I asked him how he could treat me that way after all I had (given) him.  After all I had sacrificed for him he should love me and be appreciative.  His response was “if that is what you did it for then you are a damn fool”

I spent years looking for the love that God had given me the day I was born.  All I needed to do was breath.  I gave away so much of myself  trying to get someone, anyone to love me.  The bible says to love your neighbor as you love yourself.  So many of us get it backward.  We try to love others first.  We put everyone before our selves.  When all God wants us to do is learn to love ourselves first.

When I finally got the real message I started down the long courageous road to recovery.  Thru therapy and a lot of soul searching I am healing and learning how to love others as I love me.  That means learning how to say no.  That means putting myself first.

Not my blood

Every one  wants something from me
they’ve taken my heart and my soul
control of mind I gave
now they want my blood
weren’t my tears enough

are not my scars the badge of honor they wear
never did they care about me
they take, they took

and continue to take
but they call me the crook
memories of horror
disgusting memories
embed in my sinew
are the etchings of abuse,
misuse, rejection, oppression
and now they want blood

I gave my dignity and
my body offered in sacrifice for their love
and they still want my blood
does anybody ever look outside of themselves
into the eyes of hurting souls

I gave years of dedication and devotion
went through poverty, lack and want
put up a front in front of my peers

bent over backward and kissed my own ass
trying to make the charade last

all I got was that’s not enough
give me more they said
give until your grave
will they ever see  what’s inside of me
bottled up fears, pain stricken tears
dashed hopes and swallowed up dreams

where is the light at the end of the tunnel
the pie in the sky
gold at the end of the rainbow
darkness before dawn
sun coming out tomorrow
joy in the morning
it won’t be there
if I give you blood

my blood is all I have and you want that too
after all that I’ve given to you
well kill me if you must
I won’t give it up
gave away too much already
you can’t have my blood

I won’t, I won’t I won’t give up
tired as I am of fighting
keep fighting I must
you can’t have my blood

 

Thank you for stopping by to view my blog.  I want to share what poetry is to me.  If it were not for writing poetry I am certain I would have lost my mind, killed someone or killed myself.  Through poetry I have been able to purge negative emotions.  I have learned that the most powerful force is Love.  The most loving thing I can do is share my God given gift in hopes that my story will help to heal others.  If I made it through so can you.  One of my favorite sayings is “there but for the grace of God, go I”

I will tell you my story through my poems.  We will start with as far back as I can remember and move through to the present.  So, I guess you could say that this is an Autobiography told in poems.  There will be days when I digress, but most of the time I will post a poem and then try to tell you what experience and emotion inspired the poem.

I hope you enjoy and if you get something, anything from my words please leave me a comment.  This will let me know that someone is listening.

Positive Funk

Positive Funk

is where you go to work on self
you can’t take anyone along
funky place in your spirit
filled with your own bittersweet song

you don’t mind staying funky for a while
cause you know there won’t be a crowd
they don’t understand you see
about this  funky place you be

but you very well comprehend
this positive funk you are in
this funk is a good funk
the kind that builds you up

you don’t smell this
you feel it
you welcome the enriching experience
don’t share  it
cause you couldn’t if you wanted to
it’s designed just for you

it’s too funky for your loved ones
so they just let you do what you gotta do
this funky place is fertile ground
where all the seeds of life are growing
you’ll find pride, greed and all the  negative emotions

but be patient cause positivity will soon be flowing
shortly you’ll see the love peace and contentment
that this place is grooming
when you come out you’ll be smelling like a rose

positive funk produces a unique kind of knowing
that after the thunder, lightning and stormy rains of life
things are clean and fresh smelling
after digging deep into the dirty issues of life
wallowing in the mud of pain and strife
looking at yourself and all your ugly ways

positive funk will produce
a brand new you on a whole new level
you’ll be aware of all the pitfalls
that took you to this stinking valley

this funk is positive because of the result
if you desire to be the best
you must look at your own funky shit
then I bet you’ll figure out what’s best for you

you’ll be renewed, refreshed
and have a new constitution
telling everybody it’s because of
positive funk your life had a revolution

by mozayik “the souls’ poet”

Who Knew?

I have updated my You Tube page again.  I don’t like Gmail and you tube would not let me delete my Gmail address so I had to create a new You Tube account.  I am almost finished connecting every thing but boy it has been tedious.  Now I understand the high prices marketing companies charge because this is time-consuming.  I am a smart woman so it will not  be too long before everything is up and running.

I am getting anxious so I am going to post a poem.  LOL

Still on my grind

Although I was up all night running to the restroom and I spent most of the day feeling crappy, I was able to tidy up my you tube page and do some research on how to post videos of myself reading my poetry.  For now I think I am going to just use the audio until I can get it all connected.  I read some of Sonia Sanchez’s Wounded in the House of a Friend.  So far of all the female poets I can most relate to her.  Her writing voice reminds me of great grandmother.  I promised myself that I would blog everyday even it is only a few lines.  It is done.