Tag: Poetry

angry black woman #1

*Disclaimer* I wrote this before healing. My view still remains the same except, before healing, white people were easy targets. That is not right. It is how I felt.

where is this place with limited space

this demon has rode my back before

how many times will I let it ride

I am getting so tired

do I have to change me

for you to let me be

I am misunderstood

I never thought I would

be here again

thought I had grown above this

I need relief quick

when will I take a stand

get me a plan

and proceed beyond this

time to make choices again

between darkness and your face

I need to stand on faith

believe in myself

why am I required to reinvent me

to be what others want

conforming to their needs

fitting into their plan

molding me to be whatever suits them

I need to eat

but I cannot breathe

with your hands around my neck

choking out anything that doesn’t resemble you

things you’re uncomfortable with

offensive to you

because they make you see your own ugly

get your foot off my back

why are you trying to stomp out the glaring reality

of what you are

you pretend to be a star

but inside you epitomize darkness

take your fingers out of my eyes

you can’t put out my light

or take out my fight to continue to be me

you failed to realize that I am a proud black woman

you thought I was from the school of yes sir massa

whatever you say I will do

you thought my life and livelihood depended on you

I hope now you recognize, that I am not the one

to bow down unto you as if you bring up the sun

couldn’t you tell by the look in my eyes

that I was not going for your lies

I smiled and laughed at your tired ass jokes

because my mama taught me how to be polite

you thought because I worked so hard

much harder than any white

that you could walk on me

use me up and expect me to shut up and put up

now you see what I really am

and your fear makes you retaliate

whether conscious or unconsciously

you think you deserve the best

and then you throw me your scrapes

on, on and on

not this black woman

the breath I breathe and the very life I live

was not a sorry gift from you

I know now you are just too through with me

I am making you get a glimpse of your ugly

and all this time you call yourself white

when your heart full of hateful superior intentions is black as night

because I speak up for myself and still do my work you are confused

you thought I had that slave mentality

when I called you on your racism to your face

told me I was out of place

you obviously do not recognize

that my place is in your face

anytime you flaunt your race as better than mine

it shocked you when I wouldn’t conform

rejected your standard of beauty

and strutted my own

your questions and remarks were ridiculous

do I wash my hair

do you wash your ass is what I should have asked

because it was smelling from all those lies

and pasted on smiles

don’t you get tired

of playing like you smart

are you ever going to get tired

of claiming everything you got

from the sweat and strength of our backs

I worked hard cause that is what is in me

I do not need you to be strong

you saw to that

the survival of the fittest is where I am from

the cream of the crop

top of the line

can’t get no better than this

that is why you are always trying to impress

me with your red burnt tan and curly hair

if I am so bad why are you trying my flair

don’t you see I do not care

how much you try to be like me

cause you will never ever be me

I am from royal blood

my ancestors numbered the stars

your heritage is so weak that you rob others and call it yours

you say columbus discovered america

how can you come into my house and claim it as yours

and then take my people and build it up with our blood

your ancestry is perverted

why are you so shocked that this country is so violent

oooing and ahhing when your children shoot up each other

is not that what you have taught them

when you cannot get others to do what you want

with manipulation and lies, all the time smiling

you kill them

is not that how america was built

not beautiful but profane

still trying to convince us that god

has shed her grace on this mess

where the good at so I can be the first

to crown them with brotherhood

from filthy polluted sea to filthy polluted sea

by mozayik the souls’ poet

1999

Again I write

My body is hating on me today,

But I won’t let pain get in my way.

There is still a lot to say

so, again I write.

Writing is my saving grace.

Without her I would give up running this race.

My lips and tongue betray me.

My eyes mock me, I can’t see,

but, again I write.

Braces on my hands, wraps around my knees,

thunder and lightning cloaked in 100 degrees.

I’ll let nothing stop me, because I believe

I was born to write.

Writing for me is breathing.

Take my paper and my pen,

turn out the lights tie my hands,

In my mind

I write again………

by mozayik the souls’ poet

Fight is my middle name

I’ve fought all my life

Coming here backward after 64 hours of labor

was a glimpse of my fight

I came feet first 

I was born fighting 

There have been times when I didn’t want to fight

But because I am fight

I fought

Again, and again

I fought

I have fought for rights

Fought for love

Fought for and with my words

I have fought for children that nobody wanted

There has been infighting

Out fighting with only two of us

I’ve kicked down doors with my fight

Been speaking my piece to gain peace with my fight

My fight has won tons of progress

I fight for the ones that don’t have any fight

They can count on me to fight

I stopped fighting one day

I tried to keep the fight at bay 

It did not work

God called me to fight

so, I fought again once more

I fought the professor along with the university, 

making them see my invisible disability

I have fought directors, presidents, public officials,

doctors, lawyers, even religious individuals

Shit, I have fought anybody telling me no

Growing up all I saw was fight

Fight to smile

Fight to keep the tears away

Save those tears to fuel the fight another day

I am going to keep on fighting

Fight is my middle name

by mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’

2.21.19

*****Shadows****

I wrote this poem when healing from narcissistic abuse. My therapist asked me the question, “Who was your first narcissist?” This is the epiphany.

I kept marrying my mother

Over and over, I begged her to love me

To hold me, laugh with me, instead of mocking me

She abandoned me and I never knew

When or if I would ever see her again

So over and over I begged her to love me

To hold me and never let me go

I kept marrying my mother over and over

The all behaved just like her

Intently looking for places to dagger me to death

The buildup, the let down

Lying on me so the story sounds

true for those in the neighborhood

I am gifting, finally

My permission to hate who you were

I will take that hate and transmute it to self-love

Accepting

It is not me

My guilt was that I destroyed my children

Because it was so hard to be a mother

When the first time I can remember

she abandoned me when I was three

she called me a murderer to hide her degradation

I was scapegoated while she lied on me continuously

This is why, I keept sacrificing everything

Begging her to love me

the same narcissistic cycle

my brain was programmed that way

narcissists loved bomb me without apology or acknowledgement

of the blood drawn from my soul

I was the best ever

Until they got cold

After that, I wasn’t shit

I just waited until

I was the bomb diggity again

Soon we would be out on display again

Outside the doors life was grand

Within those walls though

Your ass was a (female dog)

3.14.2020.9.50a

Christianity and Abuse

I was torn between being a good Christian and a good citizen.

Wanting to please God but needing to protect myself.

That was the dichotomy of my faith.

“If he wants you the bible says you must stay until he doesn’t.”

My faith was being tested, that is what pastor said.

My question to pastor?

How do you love someone that has left you black and blue?

How do you love the you that allows the abuse?

Mama said shame on you if let them hit you twice,

the first time should be enough.

Mama never talked about the fight or flight into myself.

In my crib I was programmed for trauma bonding.

I became addicted to the rush of chemicals from my own brain

as she participated in the disdain of herself

only to allow it to happen again.

I was wired to repeat the cycle of pain

God forgives

But a price must still be paid for the abuse.

Charges should be brought against all perpetrators.

The pain they cause not only break our hearts,

it leaves a stain upon our image of self.

Now we understand.

We can get some help.

#GirlGetYouSomeHelp

By Zuri Savage

8.8.2021.10.13a

Sweet KARMA

Karma is not a bitch.  Karma is sweet.  Karma is fair. 

She will give you what you deserve.

About your feelings she doesn’t care. 

She will pay you in love.

If that is what you reap. 

Sowing seeds of love and positivity 

will keep you out of the path of Karma’s negative proclivity. 

Karma will be your friend, until you make her your enemy.

Whether you acknowledge her or not

she will bite that ass no doubt.

It is an absolute guarantee. 

See, me and Karma go way back,

to a time when I did not know

or respect

her affect.

 I finally woke up when my love debt was past due. 

I had burned too many bridges,

so, a reckoning with Karma I had to do.

That changed my views. 

Everyone will get what they are due, 

no matter your hue.

Now?

I love every day my very best.

I am reaping love in abundance, cause I let go of judgments.

No more right or wrong.

 I am living the moments of my life’s song.

I have created a life in love for myself. 

Now?

My journey is filled with valley blessings.

I am receiving my wealth in love that Karma has dispensed.

by Mozayik “the souls’ poet” © 61917

erroneous core belief #1

I had a core belief that I did not deserve to be treated well. Of course, this is an expected response to abandonment, neglect, rape, and abuse. How else was my psyche able to allow this assault on my person, on my innocent soul?

It killed my healthy self-image. Convinced me that, I, the victim deserved this because I was bad and nobody cared. I had been programmed to expect to be traumatized.

I was guilty of not being enough. I was guilty of everything that had ever happened to me. I was guilty of ruining everybody’s life. I was fucking guilty if I did not buy the right toothpaste.

guilty felt normal

grandma said my mother did not want me

so I was guilty of being a burden

guilty of being unwanted

guilty of needing love

guilty of not adequately paying the debt I owed

for  never being enough  no matter how hard I tried

mother said I was crazy cause Mamie j  raised me

after she abandoned me

it was my grandmothers fault for doing

what my mother did not

I was not enough to be kept

I was not enough for her to love me unconditionally

so I kept running into the arms that made me

feel like my mother

so I could one day be enough for her to love me

but just like my mother

they abused and abandoned

they were narcissistic just like she

but that was then

now my boundaries abound

I see the  truth of who I am

I no longer need trauma bonding

my trauma brain synapses are rewired

the holes in my soul are filled with self-love

by mozayik thesoulspoet.com

5.5.2020.1.33p

 

 

 

music is my lover

music is my drug of choice

my constant companion

through all of this terror

it saves me minute by minute from madness

I turn it off , it keeps playing

I get lost in thought,  it keeps swaying

soothing me with lyrics of the last song that wooed me

music touches my soul, my hair follicles, my toes

I start groving and the next thing I know

me and music are rocking and rolling

until I am totally holding

freedom

in the palms of my hands

my fingers keep poping

while I drop it like its hot

before I know it me and music are in love

and we ain’t to proud to show it

music is my lover

my drug of choice

call me a gleeful forever addict

i get high

so i can fly

away on my lyrical horses

above the noises

by mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’

circa 4.2020

 ‘PTSD & me’

#FeelingSafeIsABasicNeed

someone walks into the room quietly and i jump
the startle reflex is the dominant symptom of the day
that was yesterday
today
i hyperventilate as i drive back home
i saw a man walking in the dark around our doors
I am triggered by this, i am tired, i have not slept
i am trying to put fear back on the shelf
understanding is far and i am just a complaint
my body hurts, i have struggled with chores
while trying to take care of my health
if i try to explain how i have felt
it is always and never
go back to your happy place self
the throw away is imminently dealt
the rejection, the judgment because i am myself
could i just not be me
i struggle with accepting me the way i are
i am scarred
i am scarred
i may even be broken but
most of the time i am just angry
about the battle days with fear
gripping me tight choking out safe light
i must fight to let it go
i must tell my mind that this is not then
and it is not happening again like before
so many befores’
so many befores’
sometimes they come rushing out the doors of my soul
in a second
a simple moment
i could lose control
i could stumble down the dark hole of ptsd
hypervigilance, easily startled, just fucking afraid of everything
it affects my breathing, my being
at least after therapy
i know what is happening to me
i can use my breath to regain free
i can breathe to release my body from this memory
my soul reminds me of who i am and the awesome power to live is me
in a single moment
i breath
shutting the door to the past
accepting me
even if no one else gets it
i still must love and live with myself
my superpower is the unconditional love that resides in me
fear is not really a factor
God lives in me
bring it on fear
i only need to breathe
to be free
by mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’
4.9.2019 716a

It is finished

I have not been promoting my book because that journey has ended. I don’t know where I would be without poetry. I was born a poet because that is what I needed to give voice to my pain. I bled onto the pages and it helped to heal me.

The poems in my book tell the story of my healing. It is amazing to me how clearly the poems actually chronologically portray my healing process.  The title was My Healing Journey and I actually published and printed the part of the book that was finished at that time in 2008.

My healing journey was not complete, though.  The book has gone from 48 pages to 80 pages. It seemed it would never be complete because every editing session triggered me.  I would spiral down into depression,  get into therapy and when I felt better or I allowed myself to be distracted I stopped therapy.  there were also other reasons I had to stop, like insurance or lack thereof.

The book became one of my biggest motivators to continue therapy.  I could clearly see my progress but also see where there was more work needed. I started to realize that my soul knew what I needed to heal. So I trusted it. It became apparent that the book would not get published or even completed until I healed. 

The book became a labor of self-love. It became my promise to God that I would give my gift at no cost. Writing is the tool or gift God has given me to heal myself and to heal others. It is better to give.

A therapist once told me that after I did the work to heal that I would be happier than I could imagine. I did not believe her but I had to try and see what the end was going to be. What did I have to lose? I had happiness to gain, so I  finally committed to therapy because being in pain became unbearable.

I got very serious about healing once I started having flashbacks. I had to face the fact that I suffered with PTSD.  As it is often said,  when the student is ready the teacher will appear. In January 2012 I was led to the YWCA where I spent over 3 years healing from childhood sexual abuse.

My therapist told me that I could be healed from PTSD and Fibromyalgia. She was right. It is true, that if you heal the mind you heal the body. Depression hurts.

I went over 3 years without therapy but the journey was not over. I still dealt with anxiety. Depression was and still is a thing of the past.  I still had to heal from domestic violence among other things that had left side effects.

I don’t regret any part of my journey. I am a powerhouse now for women that are healing or want to start healing.

I was born with a calling to tell women that they can be free from the pain that stops them from being all that they want to be. God has used me to pull women from the edge of the ledge. I am sure I could not even imagine how much God has used me to tell women they can be free.

So I regret nothing. I was called out to endure and heal to say, “Girl get you some help”.

This last year in therapy and the last domestic violence experience gave me valuable lessons.  Iyanla VanZant said, “There is value in the valley”. 2019  took my understanding of why I and many other women keep choosing the same type of person. We attract to us the people we need to heal. Sounds a little skewed but it is true. When we heal that part of ourselves we no longer need that situation to mirror our pain.

I have learned about things like Trauma bonding and The Trauma Brain and Narsacism as well as what it means to be an Empath. I count it all Joy. This information was essential for me to complete my journey to healing.

I decided ten years ago to take control of my life and make the necessary changes to have a better quality of life. I needed my children to be proud of me. I wanted them to see that Mama worked hard to get her shit together. I wanted to show not tell them that asking for help is a sign of strength and if you are willing to do the work you can change.

Now it is time to thrive. Now it is time to teach. Now is the time to reach even more women with the message, “I promise on the other side of healing is Happy”.