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Legacy. by amy bobeda






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Just some old freestyle poetry I did a few years ago.




"Everybody has gone through something that has changed them in a way that they could never go back to the person they once were." 🎭







Chase the Night Away ✨ a collection of 8 sonnets. Written between October 2019 and January 2020 for a university poetry assignment. @siana_maier on Instagram







"4 x helmi" pikkuinen helmi jonka istutit minuun kukkii kauniisti aukaisit sylin kurotuit kuuntelemaan sydämellisyys avasit luomet sinun silmiesi kauneus pysäytti minut karusta maasta elinvoimasi otat silti häikäiset




It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal , That’s me. Wonderful by













Wrought These iron bars Are cold. They are rusted Tears Decades old. Built by man Paralyzed by fear. Death could Be welcoming. Hope by Lighted innocence. And warm Hands and hearts. A universe Forgiving and Patient.










Need to read a poem today? For My People, Margaret Walker For my people lending their strength to the years, to the gone years and the now years and the maybe years, washing ironing cooking scrubbing sewing mending...










A form, and also a face, Beauty is the notion, I have come to know, By all your radiance, upon skin so immaculate in hue, And desirous, as something I never knew. For you have eyes that wander the extent of that form, For seduction's sake.




He stands right there In front of me His hulking form Is all I see Shoulders wide Reaching out Body firm I have no doubt Like a Casting shade Menacing eyes I missed the blade His arm extends Cuts through air Rips right through me Without a care



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Back And Forth

Everybody is working

But not me

My head is full

And though so empty

My worries and stress

Lead me

My thoughts push me

And all the expectations

Pull me

But where?

Down? Up?

Back and forth…

Entry-27/01/ 20

So I added the date because I would love to look back on this some day. The new year hasn’t been bad so far. I got my results from school and I got all B’s and B+’s and the biggest B being my boyfriend.

I started this tumblr because I was seriously depressed. Many of my first quotes i wrote during that time.

I had a long distance relationship with a man I had never met and if you ever thought it was impossible for someone you never met to hurt you, think again.

It was rough because we had dated four years and he cheated for three. She was always there, in the background of the pictures he sent me. He was a good liar and always acted offended at my questions.

Well, needless to say, I was broken when I finally found out. The worst part of it is he said he fell out of love with me the very first year we were together.

Now, at 22, I wrote my very first third person perspective short story and I’m going to enter it in a writing contest!

Healing takes time, I see that now. It’s been two years since we broke up and I have my first real boyfriend. Real, as in I get to see him every day and I get to hold his hand.😊

I also lost 4 pounds in two months which is cool. I’m hoping to lose more as the months go by. Well, all in all I’m excited for the rest of the year and wish the same for all of you!

Love, sunstarved.

My mind often drifts to strange places,

leaving behind a question,

‘what it’s like to stay gone.’

Then there are questions

i do actually have answers for,

with known pathways.

'How to stay away from sinful thoughts.’

Find peace. Take a long walk.

Draw with ink, write with chalk.

There isn’t a correct way

but running only invites more chaos

than already existing.

Peace is a slow and lonesome destination.

Like working with paint knifes.

Building courage from scratch.

Scrapping honey from past.

It requires patience more

than it requires anything else,

mostly nothing.

So let your wings fly you to places

with clear blue sky,

more greens than fissure lands,

that carry the warmth of serenity.

©Shreya maurya

The siren

When the sea first called to me

I thought it was something beautiful.

Something like nothing I had ever experienced before.

Something so light and refreshing,

Deep and mysterious,

Dark and yet so light.

I thought I saw my reflection,

In the crystal clear water.

I wanted to return to it every day,

Like the waves as they crashed to shore.

But the sun was so bright,

It felt like a fire on my skin.

And the sand broke into every crevice of my body,

Scratching me raw and taking everything I thought I could give.

But the sea was so beautiful,

I couldn’t stand to leave.

It would call to me,

Begging me to stay.

It was my siren.

My weakness in the world.

The only thing I would have done anything for,

If only just to reach out to touch it again.

But everytime I tried to hold the water in my hand,

It would slip right back through my fingers.

When I finally immersed myself in its tide,

To set myself free from the harsh sand

And finally feel the sea around me,

But I was met with a chill that broke me inside,

And harsh salt that covered my skin.

The crashing waves tried to take me under,

To drag me back with them

Until I was nothing.

And I tried to escape

From my blue sirens grasp,

And just watch from the shore but it was calling me back.

But I found there was no joy

Where I once thought I was the happiest,

So I stood up and left it’s white sandy beaches,

Leaving behind that life in the waves.

But sometimes I think I still hear the sounds

Of those waves to the shore,

Calling me back to that familiar place.

But I resist what was my former weakness.

And never return to my demise,

My siren.

Someone told me once that 
Many exist but seldom live 
But there is a trick to skating by

Only those who embrace life
Can fall thorough ice to death
If you barely are you skate on

Nameless faceless gently
Formless but we are free
From death who did not live

Meth Heads

I was drunk on for too long, and high on pills;
but they weren’t doing anything for me any more,
so I had an urge to get higher.
I tried black tar heroin before, and it basically
made me feel better than opiate pills.
I did these drugs, because I don’t feel mentally ill while on them.
I also feel social, and charming.

In the back of my head I realized I was making poor decisions;
however I’ve been suicidal for a long time, so if I fuck up, and die -
I really didn’t care.

I decided to call my homeless friend James, who just came back from living in Mexico.
He was smoking meth in Mexico with his gf who he was abusing.
He told me she was a “bitch” who wouldn’t allow him to watch too much television,
and complained that he didn’t work whenever when arrived home from work.
In anger he would lock her outside, and laugh maniacally, telling her to wait outside
until morning.

James receives social security disability for schizophrenia.
He had good tastes in music, and video games, so I thought I could relate to him.
I also have schizophrenia, so I thought that could possibly be another relation.
I was completely wrong.

In order to find black tar I had too get on a bus, and meet him in downtown Sacramento.
I took a bunch of gabapentin in order to have confidence outside, because I rarely
go outside,
and get nervous in public often.

As I was waiting for the bus young teenagers approached me and asked me for cigarettes.
Teenagers in my neighborhood often ask older people in their 20s to buy them cigarettes,
or black and mild/swishers in order to smoke blunts. I told them to “fuck off.”

As I sat on the bus I felt nervous, so I sat in the very back observing everyone.
There were some students staring at their phones, and another guy yelling on his phone about something.
For some reason in poor neighborhoods, people yelling on their phones is a common occurrence, so
I just ignored it.

The pills started to kick on when I got off the bus. I took a lite rail to James’ location.
the lite rail was mostly black people with headphones, which relaxed me, because I knew nobody
would try to have a conversation with me.

When I arrived. I smile, and walked around with James. I asked him “If we can’t get tar, do you know if we can get some crystal?”
He said, “Yeah fsho.”

We ended up talking to several sketchy people about finding drugs. Mostly homeless people who smelled bad - with bad teeth.
I really didn’t feel nervous, because I was high as fuck, and kind of felt sympathetic, because I knew they were as crazy as I was. I just
had a home.

One black guy thought I was selling meth, so he kept following us, and smiling, asking
“You got that good clear, nigga?”
I said, “nah man, we ain’t sellin’ we’re lookin,”
but he kept following us. James sort of just laughed maniacally, as he usually does, and asked if he could get a burger. We went to a burger place, and ate. The man stopped following us after that.

At the burger place we discussed how people are fucked up, and avoid you if you have a mental illness. I thought this was true, but people
were probably just avoiding us, because we were crazy, and on drugs.

After eating I was getting disappointed that we couldn’t find any drugs. We found out from one person we could get tar at a motel but it was in a
sketchy hotel full of prostitutes and meth heads, and we just wanted to get it without having to knock on doors.

I realized My dog was still at home, and might need to piss or shit. We went to take the lite rail, but there was a bomb threat, and it no trains
were available.

We took an uber to my place. We told the uber driver that there was a bomb threat. He didn’t say anything. He was probably pissed that he just
picked up two looking-homeless dudes who smelled like weed, cigarettes, and alcohol. We didn’t tip him.

At my place James and I decided to play Donkey Kong Country for Super Nintendo. One of my favorite things to do in life is to play video games with friends. It takes me back to when I was a child, and before traumatic things occurred.
He fell asleep while playing.

The next day James went to the liquor store. I took some more pills. He came back, and said, “Hey I found a dude who can give us some tar and dope,”
so I gave him some money, content that I was going to feel euphoric once again. James left, but came back with a shirtless homeless dude.
“He wants to smoke it with us, can he come in?”
but before I can say anything they both walked into my apartment. I felt like denying it, but I was high, irrational, suicidal, and wanted to feel good instead of constantly depressed. I was obviously not making the best decisions.
Once the homeless man entered my home He said, “Thank you for having me in your home. That’s a blessing.” Then he started to speak in Hawaiian. I recognized it,
because I am part Hawaiian. I told him “Hey, my grandmother was Hawaiian, and Japanese.” He replied. “I’m Hawaiian, and Japanese - that means we’re brothers - my names is Keiko.”

We started to smoke crystal, and once I took a hit, Immediately felt my whole body turn numb, and euphoria rising. I proclaimed out loud.
“Wooooooo I feel good.” Keiko laughed, and so did James with his maniac laugh. He insisted on smoking more, even though I felt like I was done.

Keiko started talking about how God lives through him, and God is everywhere and everything. I didn’t believe in what he was saying, because I couldn’t imagine God
living through us while smoking crystal in a trashy apartment. He then started talking about jail, and how scary it was. He took out a long screwdriver, saying he needs to protect himself while homeless.

We smoked more, and I started feeling incredibly stupid and forgetful. He told us that he texted a guy, and that we could get tar, so he ordered me to follow him outside to get it.

He took his bike, and rode off. I took my bike, and started to ride, but fell several times, because I was fucked up; so I ran to catch up with him. I reached the street, and couldn’t see him anywhere. So I just stood their gazing at different locations.
I smiled at a woman, and she frowned at me. I finally saw Keiko on his bike coming back, so I followed him when we reached my apartment.

He was incredibly pissed. “Never look fucking suspicious outside while looking for drugs. Why the fuck were you looking around? Do you not fucking trust me?” I frowned, and was tired from running. “Why the fuck do you look like that? You don’t fucking trust me. I’ll fucking take your money, and drugs, and fucking leave you guys behind. The dealer said never buy tar near your own home you fucking idiot.”

I should have told him to just leave, because he was obviously paranoid, and crazy, but I exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I’m just new to this, and was looking for you.
I thought you wanted me to come with you to the deal, because you said go outside. I trust you. I would have just stayed inside, and waited, if I knew that you wanted me to just chill.”

This didn’t seem to convince him, but I told him, “Hey let’s smoke more.” and this seemed to calm him down.

He kept yelling at me inside, so James started to yell at him, saying that I’m new to this, and is always alone, never hanging out with people.

He finally calmed down after smoking a cigarette, and another hit of crystal. He told me Hawaiian people wouldn’t like me, because I don’t make eye contact,
and I’m not social. I told him “I’m social on drugs.” He kept giving me more, even though I knew I had enough. I suddenly started to feel happy, and child-like. I asked him. “Have you ever been married?” He became angry, and responded. “What? Are you fucking gay?” I said, “No, I’m not gay.” He said. “I’m pretty sure you’re fucking gay.” I replied honestly, and said, “I was bicurious once, and fucked a thai dude, but I’ve been with a lot of women.” He sort of misunderstood, and said, “If you’re bisexual, then suck this dick.”

I told him, “I don’t suck dick. I think it’s degrading.” He replied “I’m pretty sure you want to suck my dick.” At this point I wanted him to leave, but realized he had a weapon, and that would be problematic.

We smoked more, and he kept talking about women, and pussy. He suggested to bring some prostitutes over. I was so high out of my mind that I was okay with it.
I said, “no white women.” then he replied again, “Are you fucking gay?” irritably, and I said, “no I just dislike them.” He took out his phone, and showed me a picture of his hard dick, then asked,

“Do you want to suck this dick?” I just looked at it disinterested, then took out a phone, and showed him my dick, which was significantly bigger. He suddenly was less confident after showing him the picture.

He decided to show me how throw punches. I threw punches, but kept missing his open hands, because I was too high.

He made me smoke more, and I started feeling insane/happy/paranoid/confident simultaneously. I gave him some weed, and he said, “Since I’m giving you tar and shit, I’m taking a bunch of this weed for the dealer.”

He dumped my jar out and took it. I wanted to protest, but once again realized I’m too high to defend myself, and he has a weapon. He then suggested a massage.

We went into my room, and he told me take off your shirt. I lied down on the floor, and he started to massage me. He actually got rid of a lot of knots, but I was afraid he was going to rape me.

This whole time James was just in the living room staring at his phone, playing a video game, and laughing maniacally. “My turn.” I started to massage him for a few minutes, but I said, “This is really fucking weird, and making me uncomfortable.” He complied, and stopped. So he started to watch porn on my computer. I showed him some of my favorite porn actresses, but then I realized this might make him horny, so I went to back to the living room, where James was sitting doing nothing. We smoked more, and I knew I was high out of my mind, because I started shaking uncontrollably. I realized I lost my weed pipe, and started looking for it everywhere.
Making a mess of the whole apartment.

Keiko yelled at me saying, “You’re fucking tweakin. I didn’t steal your pipe.” I wasn’t thinking he did, but I started to think he did, since he said that.
“Why are you shaking so much? You don’t fucking trust me.?” James yelled, “because you gave him too much fucking meth,” and started laughing. I told Keiko he can have food, and basketball shorts, and this seemed to calm him.

He showed me the food he cooked. Japanese noodles, and a full can of Spam. he ate the whole thing, then said, “because you’re a fuck up, you don’t deserve these good drugs.” So he took a bunch of the tar, and went to the bathroom to shoot up most of it.

While he was in the bathroom I grabbed my ps4, and the rest of the heroin, and hid it somewhere, but forgot where I hid it. Once he was out of the bathroom, he told me, “I’m leaving to get some bitches. Fuck you guys.” but then he whispered to me,

“Can you fuck me with your big dick?” I stopped shaking,and calmly replied, “No.” He left.

Once he left I started complaining to James how I wanted to just do drugs with him, and get no on else involved. James said. “I thought you liked him. Especially when I heard porn playing.”

I told him I was just playing along.

James just laughed, then I realized he was also laughing when Keiko wanted me to suck his dick. I started looking for the heroin, and ps4 to calm down, but I yelled
“I think he stole the heroin and my ps4!” James said “Oh wtf fuck that guy” I kept looking, and made a mess of the apartment. I found the tar, and smoked it with James to calm down. I calmed down after smoking, but then became incredibly nauseous.

My dad arrived home from his vacation, and saw the apartment a complete mess. He called my name, and saw that I was high out of my mind. He looked like he was going to cry, and instead of yelling he just said, “please don’t do this again.”
He used to smoke meth, so he was actually sympathetic to my situation. I was in bed for six straight days sick. Mostly dry-heaving, and throwing up bile. My father kicked James out of the apartment, and told him to never come back.

This event really affected me. It was pretty much my fault, because of being incredibly stupid. I’m paranoid, and anxious of men now. I bought pepper spray, and barricaded my front window, just in case he came back to steal something.

I found my pipe and ps4 a month later. The only thing he stole was weed, and money

I now have nightmares of smoking meth with new, crazy people, and when I awake I’m sweating, and feel like I’m still high on it.
Sometimes I still want to smoke those drugs to feel euphoria from the ptsd due to those drugs, which is ironic.

The only thing I learned is that I somehow brought hell into my home, and that morality may be real because I was so afraid.

The nihilist in me has slowly died.

I wish

I hadnt broken 50 bones

I wish that I had cast the first stone

Then everyone would believe me

Instead of others

In hiding

Taking blind jabs

At the false prophet

Who never claimed otherwise

Chayi (The Art of Drinking Tea)

Making tea is often a tradition that denotes
Respect and appreciation for things such as family
And marriage. Washing the teacup with boiled water
Cleanses your heart and mind, dissipating the yin
Collected from your sins. Tea leaves are passed
Around to be examined and admired—a picture
Of grace. Prosperity and happiness
Are meant to be delivered by flipping
The tea within two cups, a flow of exchange
Between guests that is soon discarded as well. Greed 
And jealousy is washed away with the impure water until
You are filled with only the richness of yang.
The tea you are finally able to drink is signified
By something I no longer am sure I understand,
Painted by lost cultural significance only
My grandparents retain. You echo these motions
In an attempt to pass down rituals that matter,
And yet none of this feels important to me.
I feel as if I grew up to be those tea leaves,
Fragrant smells promising the sweetness
Of tea, but instead, I am the flavorless water
Cast aside because who I am doesn’t
Fit into the rigidness of the tradition that
Tell me to conform my values to
Those of this society.

Making tea is also a tradition that means
Apologies—regret and submission for
Failures of the past. I pour my tea out
To wash away the bad qi of the choices
I have made, wishing you fortune
And joy. (Even if I am not the daughter you wanted.)
I reboil the water at the right temperature
To ensure the tea is not bitter. My cup brims
With my sorrow and my love, yet
(I am still not sorry for who I am.)

image

Hearing the creak of a kid in which you sat when you were a kid

A smile that you always had until you got older and it got hid

A sense of insecurity took place in you

Shoulders and eyes down upon due

How to tell yourself to look up to your reflection?

Learning finally to defeat the unconfidence of isolation

Through just a little motivation everyday

Hearing your thoughts saying your beautiful as you pray

What a rare feeling it is?

Remembering the fellowship of your imaginary friend as he sees

A memory of loneliness it has always been

Growing up telling a story that had not been seen

How much secrets to hide inside those eyes?

To only found a loop of pain that could always be buried in lies….

there was a time quite recently when i would write simple and beautiful. and you ate it up like vanilla pudding. and i felt like it was worth putting out into the world. it doesn’t feel like that anymore. it feels a little more like pouring the contents of my brain onto a piece of paper and moving around all of the letters and words around until they create white noise. it feels like trying to sculpt something beautiful out of half-dried cement. i can’t stop saying that i’m exhausted. i can’t stop putting it in everything i write. i’m exhausted. i’m exhausted. i’m exhausted. i don’t feel like i can build anything good anymore. my hands are far too calloused far too young

image

I come to the beach as an entertainer. I see the sad sand, the crying wind, the sorrow water, the heartbreak trees. Beach is the nature of pain, the nature of lost. Beach is the most suffer place around the world. Man come to throw their trash of pain, the mountain of sadness. Actually, the sound that we always hear is not come from the shore. It is come from the pain of mankind. It is cry of the die souls. When I come to the beach, I feel nothing but pain.

Hindi maibigkas ng mga bibig

Hindi mailarawan ng mga mata

Hindi maiguhit ng mga kamay

Na pakiramdam lang ang meron ka.


Naririnig ngunit malayo para maintindihan

Nakikita ngunit malabo para masilayan

Mga larawan na may mga ngiti at alaala

Tila ang pakiramdam ay iba na.


Nakakatakot.

Hindi alam ang mga susunod na salita, kilos at masisilayan ng mata.

Maaring mamaya, bukas or sa makalawa,

May isang bibitaw pagkat pakiramdam ay kakaiba

Mula sa mga matang nasa larawan na tila iba ang sinasabi sa ipinapakita.

Burning on

I put my life on the line,
Time after time,
Trying to find a way,
Although it ends up the same,
Who can I blame,
Trying to light the way,
To my heart,
That I can’t see,
Is a flame,
Deep inside of me,
And I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
Deep down inside of me,

I bear my soul for your embrace,
For only a moment just one small taste,
Trying to face what I’ve done,
Trying to walk out into the sun,
But it ain’t easy for me to say,
It’s never over just one more day,
Trying to find a way,
Trying to calm the flame,
And I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
Deep down inside of me,

The fires are harsher than before,
And I just can’t take it anymore,
The times have changed,
The times have changed,
In my heart,
That I can feel,
Is a flame,
I know it’s real,
And I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
I know that it’s burning,
Deep down inside of me.