criticswords
Critics Words Rant-athon
I only want to speak the truth...my opinion and yours.
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Sorry about video quality..... LTAB performance.
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Whether I jumped or was pushed, someone still put me on a cliff.
Kai Davis, Nayo Jones & Jasmine Combs - “Sandra Bland”
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Performing for Temple at the 2016 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational. Temple won the tournament. Subscribe to Button on YouTube!
(via buttonpoetry)
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Candy Shop
This time it was different. The first time I saw your face as we. I crave you. Well like I’ve said I crave the need to please me for you. The first time that I saw you watch me. The first time I saw demands escape your lips. I was too memorized by your eyes to try to make myself wet. I realized that when I first opened my legs it was like a child who first walked into a candy store. Your eyes were so bright. They seem to gleam with amazement. Your eyes were filled with hope, and potential. The more we got into it the wider your grin. The more we got into it the brighter your eyes. You licked your lips as you saw something sweet, and sweeter. At the end when the sweetest sugar of them all was inches from your lips, your eyes burst with happiness and drool fell from your lips. I think it was more beautiful than when you showed me your body. When you showed me your body I was the kid who just received the biggest lollipop. This time it was different. This time we both got to go on a trip to the candy shop. I’m just not sure who loved it more.
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Wishing Star
I wish I was pretty. I wish I wasn’t stupid. I wish I could be held by the arms of whom I love. I wish I could stop hurting people. I wish people liked me. I wish I was content. I wish God would take my soul and cast it down to hell now, because I sure as hell don’t deserve the chance to get into heaven. I wish I could apologize to everyone I hurt. I wish I could spill my secrets. I wish this mask I’m wearing didn’t itch so much. I wish I could rip it off. I wish this masquerade dance we’re in would end. I wish my rose colored glasses would fall off. I wish the black and white realist I talk about was the person I am. I wish I didn’t make so many mistakes. Fuck me. I wish my friends were happy. I wish families were happy. I wish all kids could laugh and smile, and teenagers could have that old fashion first kiss. I wish we weren’t so fast! I wish the government wasn’t so corrupt. I wish everyone could sing in harmony, beautifully blending in the melody. I wish I could stop wishing.
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OD-ing
I should stop looking to others for approval, because my applications keeps getting denied… I’m going around in a spinning circle of people who love my body and people who don’t. I’m spinning around in this circle of people who want the sex and those who just exploit me. I know it’s the same, but it feels different. One pill my mind is eased… two pills I’ll forget the day. Three I’ll fall asleep. Four I’ll wake in a few days. Five still not enough. Six I’ve officially OD-ed.
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Did It Work?
Whisper. In my ear to my soul, mentor. To my thoughts, seem clear as day, share. Ideas about the world, let me know you care, release. The towel covering your insecurities, open up to me. Let me pamper to your every need, I’ll make you believe me, trust. I’ll touch the other side of your words and thoughts you never dreamed, incredible. When I saw your naked brain drop so sweetly, sexually. Uncloak the creative process and perform to me what no one else will ever see, I pray. Every day as I watch your eyes glow with fascination at art as you sink into awe stay with me, please. Help rid of the naïve in me because it’s for you, I’m sorry. That I’ll live up to your expectation is my only plea, gratefully. Acknowledge me? Maybe? Maybe not? I’m wrong. Just take my soul and mold it into something useful for you. Tell me when I’m wrong so I can learn how to please you perfectly. Just whisper in my ear so I won’t miss a thing. I promise if you let me you’ll see how magical I can make you feel, so let go. So I can make love to your mind, hopefully flow to your body, inevitably.
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My Favorite TV Show
With perfection comes pain, I guess that’s why she cries herself to sleep at night
With beauty comes a price, I see how it affects her in her eyes
Those portals to her soul, the library for her books, I like reading them sometimes
Mostly, some of them hurt, I watch it in her smile
Endless horror movies on rerun lay on a white glossy background they seem to never go to commercial
Scrolling through her filling cabinets to find forgotten pieces
I can hear the hurt that comes from talent also
The thick walls is a result of a pretty face, I guess that’s why she never lets anyone see it anymore
Halloween seems to be everyday as she dresses herself
I like seeing her on October 31st that’s the only time anyone ever does, she finally lets us
She seems to dabble in the art of make-up, then again you would too if you become a new person 364 days out of the year
I see the tired in her breath
Inhales that revive but exhales that not only dispel carbon dioxide, but also any hope that she might have obtained when she breathed in
Idolized for her confidence, but her shadow bawls up in insecurities
Soft smooth curve of her hips, bare stress from expectation
Full of succulent lips where lies fall from every time she says “I’m okay”
Silk hands and polished nails, palms full of calluses from trying to fix the world
Never wears sandals because bunions aren’t nice to look at, but you better be glad she has them because she paved the way for you
Concealer to hide the bags under her eyes, the churning gears in her head keep her up at night
Syllables spoken sharply she tried to hide the feeling of being the sound of her words
Programed perfectly, she keeps trying to be programed perfectly
But her human aspects is what we choose not to see about her
But her human aspects are the only thing I see about her
So i’ll stay tuned in so I won’t miss a thing about her
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Amusement Park
Our world is an amusement park and there are only three rides. The loops make you sick, the twist give you whiplash, and the drops make you lose your breath. The lines are really long. Pick one to ride for your eternity. Wait. Test drive. The loops are the churning in your stomach every time you say something to the love of your life. But they make your head spin, they untie your shoelaces and make you walk astray. Loops give you stress over load and the world seems to go in slow motion for every round about. But wait for that perfect circle, all of the side effects are true, but the one buckled in sitting next to you will make it seem to never end. The twist is that come back to me feeling you get from watching your soul mate leave the house every morning. But every straight means they’re coming right back to you. Sometimes things will seem not to go the right way, and your head will never be in the right place. It’s a struggle to get to the right path. One jerk will make you fall off to be caught in your lover’s hands. They’ll leave a few times and you’ll go floating down straights that are unknown. Often horrid images will lay press upon your eyes. But remember they’ll always be a jerk away; they’ll always be forever to stay. But the drops. The drops are the feeling of laying your eyes on beauty. Highs and lows and you’ll go crashing harder; things will be constantly changing. On the top of one hill they’ll stand with you like a rewards because they knew how hard you climbed. But success only last momentarily, when you drop and start to cry. What hurts is they’ll only sometime be able to hold you and tell you it’s going to be alright because you’re a champion. Our amusement park has a ride under construction. They took parts from all three and made them one. They said the side effects may be magnified, but the happy part will be electrifying. You see, I condemn all of the people who go around on those rides because they were scared for their lives. But I commend those who are still wondering around and waiting for the opening, because they’ve got the bravery everyone else yearns for. And for the people operating this scary heavenly hell, I damn you for the torture of other, and I pray that you never find your lover.
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Making Juice
I’m full of insecurities
I’m an optimist, but look at myself as a jar half empty
And beauty
Someone who could turn ugly into poetry, but can’t find something worthy in me
I feed off of originality, but can’t seem to show off me, originally
I am a boost of self-confidence, for someone else
But I confide to a box to fall in the masses
It’s crazy what we don’t see I the light
Like decorating a tree,
The sins of holes and gaps that can’t be.
Then the decorative lights that were embellishing its beauty, now can’t hide all the ugly on the plain tree.
That’s me, in reality…
What you don’t know is when I get home and get behind closed doors, then I hit the floor, and what you can’t see is that on in my needs and next time you ask me I’ll tell you…
The truth, about me.
What happens when the only people present are God and me
I’ll tell you what happens when I hear those kids talking mess about me
I’ll tell you what happens when I see something extraordinary
I’ll tell you what I see in you, and how that makes me feel
Yeah, I’m a bundle of insecurities but they’ll shed like my bundles of pounds
They’ll shed away simple and peacefully
But if that makes you want to leave me, because of my over conscientiousness, then yes by all means please leave me
Just remember your insecurities, then you see how childish it was
So yes, I’m a jar half empty, but you can’t sip from this cup of tea
I’ll just stir my pitcher then pour to the full cup which will save me
Insecurities and blessing, just everything.
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Flower Blossom
Writing about losing your virginity is harder than you think. In a back dressing room of a theatre. I gave it away. No, it wasn’t stolen. Girls write about their first time as horrid memories of tripping over clothes and making beats from the walls with their heads. But it all started with a kiss you see. I can still here the noise of my ass clapping against his thighs, the little girl calling my name, silent moans escaping from my mouth. He said “shhh”, like it was going to calm me down. I never said no. I bet those other girls didn’t either. You see beside the three fourths of us who were raped for the first time, virginity is something you see on a bookshelf. One day you say to someone admiring it, just take it. And what the girls preach is being absurdity. But the three fourth have a story too. The first time they gave it, when the morals were true. I lost it in a dressing room that made me feel so invincible. When girls cry of sob stories and regrets of past memories. I fail to believe it all hurt because when you left him I know you feel triumphed. And there are those who lost it twice. I’m sorry, number one. Remember it was magical, number two. We’re in control, number three. Beauty, number three. Confidence, number four. Now you’re a flower and full bloom.
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Dial Tone
Love bug, let’s make love to the music of our heartbeats, and when we can no longer hear the melody we’ll ignore the lack of musical serenity and still try to read the lyrics engraved in our bodies as we sing every tune we make each other scream. Sweetie pie, let’s get high. Lay around half naked and tell the secrets we never would have admitted if we weren’t in the sky. Tell me about your view on the world while I’m on the phone with Dominos. “One large peperoni and cheese, right? Wait, what do you mean by things aren’t as they seem?” Your royalty, I address you as you should be treated. Rest your head on a pillow and when you wake tell me about the things that made you shake. Tell me about the things that made you smile and frown, what confused you and made you stop to think for a while. Darling, dear, let’s talk about the arts while we’re both sitting in the dark holding our favorite memories, maybe some loud music in the background. Maybe you could put your feelings down with pencil and paper creating meaning that change with every season. Maybe you capture others hearts’ by saying “cheese” or maybe simply by not. You can listen to my words and I’ll listen to your music. Or I’ll watch your shows or be front row at every performance you give the honor of attending. Thank you. Honey, sweeten my tea while we sit and think about the religions we claim to be. Maybe they’re all one? How about their beliefs? Let’s eat grilled cheese and tomato basil soup while we think about the people we use to be, and about how we believe. Let me hear your testimony. Baby, let’s go to Chili’s “bacon burger with nothing on it, fries please, thank you.” So tell me about your day, and then your week. Give me a mini rant about how so and so pushed your buttons. Sugar, we’ll taste the world. Love, let’s show some to everyone. Sunshine, tell me how to glow in this world. ‘Cause when it’s all over. Love bug, we’ll be making love to the music of our heartbeats. Once the melodies leave, at least we’ll finally understand the lyrics engraved in each other’s bodies. “You want Chinese food right? Lo mien and fried rice.”
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How?
No, I am not nastey. I am naughty. I am whips and chains. Ropes and handcuffs. Dominant, and submissive. I was a sex slave looking for a master. Then I found you. When I found you, you gave me a list of rules to follow. I had two hands, ten fingers, and a vibrator with three settings to help please you. Well, to please me for you. I waited so long with curiosity. It scared me. When I layed eyes on you for the first time I couldn't open my mouth to find words to say to you; I was so nervous. We had 15minutes, the angle let you see everything. "May I please cum Master Booty God?" - "No." I wasn't sure if the orgasm would take over me before you let me. Something about the rush. "I'm going to cum." your stern voice seemed so sweet yet so threatening. "Manners." So I begged and pleaded. Once, twice, then three times. I was pleased, hot, and tired. You were satisfied and distracted. I had to leave, but you had no problem. Few words exchanged, which soon turned to none. It's indescribable how you can fuck my body with your rules, fuck my mind with your words, and fuck my soul with your talent. Then just leave me, wanting more.
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Who Why What Cry
As I’m writing about a world that never seems to begin
These frightening things in my head repeated over again
There screams the crying, the torturing, the dying
Needs to stop
Why can’t I walk down the block
Without a thing being said to my name
It’s getting to my brain
And it all starts over again
I keep seein’ all these pea brains
Wanna be thug But all they want is some love
Thinkin’ life’s hard
Cause they tryna get a restart
All these people getting stuck in the same place
They cry
Cause they ain’t goin’ no where
Yet they really do care
Ain’t no bodies life wanna go to waist
It’s like we’re running a race
Yet we’re all out of shape
There’s no loosing those pounds that keep tearing us to the ground
We gotta learn to pick back up again
So we can run that race
Get to that place
Where it’s a restart
A new heart
A movement
I’m going somewhere
No need to be in despair
I left those thoughts behind
Forgot them in a box and can’t remember the lock
Why couldn’t I do this before
Lock things behind a door and remember them no more
Why couldn’t I get my restart
Was I working too hard
Did life give up when I broke down
When I was hand and knees on the ground
Screaming but there was no sound
But some came and saved me
Picked me up off the ground
Helped me get through that race
So I didn’t’ get trampled on my face
Helped thugs find love so they didn’t’ end up on drugs
Helped those screams cry so they could finally say good-bye
The ones being tortured
Finally escape free
Can finally walk down the street without a word said to me name
All of these days finally came
Cause of him He was the one that saved that thug
And gave him love
Carried us through the finish line
Listened to her cry
Helped the little girl escape and get to the right place
Why couldn’t we see what was happening to him
Happening to her and that little girl then
Happening in the dark is not an exception
Happening alone is not the question
Blind beyond our eyes is the reason why
He can see openly and hear their cry
Why not… do we not try
To see the reason why
Do we not try to hear their cry
Why is the obvious so deaf to us Why do the screams mute
Why can’t we see that he just wanted a love
Why does the ground feel so smooth when we’re tearing someone down
Why aren’t we bring anyone up
Giving someone love
Letting those lost screams cry
Letting them left souls die
Do you know who pulled you out the ground
Do you know who can hear those sound
Who can give ultimate love
Who can let some cry
Who can let a little girl escape
Who can pull you trough a race
Him!
He!
The Ultimate!
Only!
God…
Cause he’s not a fraud
So don’t fret
Cause your out Completely out
You can breathe now
So stop!
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Parallel Universe
I crave to be artistic
She said I want to show you the world, a new way of thinking
I said I’d love to learn
She captured photos that made me feel, made me see unexplainable things
I tried to craft words that maybe she’ll never see
But somehow she understood every letter and space
I wonder if my path was different who would I be
Could I craft art like the people I envy the most do?
Would my Instagram page be full of pastel colors and unexplainable images of beauty?
Or vibrant colors and borders full of white
Would the same lessons be learned or my path of morals differentiate
I wonder if the arts would still be what I love and breathe
Or the type of art cease to be
So when she tells me of magical thought I only envy to be
I’ll get in touch with the other me
Who’s universe didn’t even get the chance to cease bein
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