Tag: writing
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I was born to rage, in rage, and enraged. My calm is not calm. It is the silent perpetual flow of lava under a surface hardened by years of bullshit that predate me stamped by the heavy feet of machines and systems that never saw me as a person tended by people who think because…
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Meraki Kintsugi
I dont need a breakI been in piecesTryna pull dropsFrom here and theirLooking for strength in the dust Of the shattered wakeOf where wholeness once wasI need a fixBut there is no goldFor gold to make beautifulThe broken piecesInto a new thingSold a lieLong overdue for sleepTo dream in a realityThat can beNo rest for…
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Can I Have Your Attention?
Can you speak truth to power if it has no ears to hear? If coins are lodged so deep it touches tissue that should activate tears. Is there a point to speaking truth to power when the hearts have been stuffed with bills and nerves have been set ablaze by the thrill of the squeeze?…
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I am always fineUnchecked onLeft to my own devicesDisappointedAnd usually pretty ignored And be needing hella help with no way to get the stupid fuckin words outSo i sayIm fineDont worry about itI got itIt’s coolAnd sit silently wondering wtf was the kid supposed to do so the adult can and get free I aint…
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Heart of a Woman, too
We love far, wide, randomly, and intentionally. Watchin over all the babies, not just our own. Watching over every elder, from abuela to auntie and endearments we know not of. Caring quietly and directing God’s attention to the safety and care and to our strength, praying we wont need it because there’s no tellin how…
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In the midst of this shit
I have no idea what any one of us is supposed to do in the midst of this shit Full poem on My tumblr page because I accidently wrote it there and not in my notes app… D. Ondria 06292025
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What’s the word for this?
I am tired. The bone deep kind. I have the words and I dont at the same time. And tired is losing its strength because it’s just not quite right. It’s not sleep I need. There’s no more peace at night. Rest always comes with less so there’s no reprieve. There is this weird sense…
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Busy Black Woman
I cant rageOr cryI cannot open the flood gatesWhere residesMy painAnd holds a thousand othersThey dont need my helpBut we are oneThe great unseen and robbedThe great imitated and proddedThe great creators, desecratedThe great noise, silencedSo if I speakIf I breakIf I releaseThe wave will need a new nameTsunami is not my language anywayAnd this…
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So…here’s the thing
So I read a snippet of The Artist Way and then immediately bought it as an in my hand book. It’s on audiobook on Spotify if you have any premium plan. Which is how I might need to go about reading it if I am ever gonna. But…I had to ask ChatGPT one lil thing.…
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Check In of Sorts
I haven’t written anything in a while for a myriad of reasons that I will not go into. Quite frankly, I’m doing this just to make sure that my brain handles connection is still there and hasn’t been completely overtaken by the writing I have to do (I guess I can say I’m in school)…
OutWriteRandom 