Photo Source: Pixabay anathema for the love of all that is holy and sacred banish the bruises from these bones and slay the shadow dragon that breathes fire down my spine and sinks its talons deep in the meat of my thighs and devours a bit of my soul...
![O[r]bit](https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/09/12/11/56/universe-2742113_960_720.jpg)
obit my deathwas a violent rejection of iconographyan academic example of expired mythology and yetnot the conclusion of the story titledmeinterruptedon hiatusin transition to another planevibing among the starsfrom which i cameawaiting my returnto the flow of time Sumayyah Talibah © 3 February 2020 Cross posted to Steemit
190818* she is haunted by the empty spaces by the gaps in her carefully conjured dual reality by the blood that crossed the sea and she weeps into the ashes of her dreams Sumayyah Talibah © 18 August 2019 *This poem originally appeared on the now defunct Narrative.org
She jolted back to consciousness as the ground swayed and clacked beneath her back. Her breath came in pants as the inevitable questions ran through her mind. “Where am I? What happened? Where did that monster go? How am I still alive?” She eased herself to a sitting position...
Well, hello there. It has been a minute since I posted something other than a poem or listed a jewelry item for sale in the shop. New items have just been listed in the shop, such as these bone & wood earrings. Additionally, I have continued to upgrade my...
immolation (in reverse) gather me from the asheslest i rise to the skyand repeatmy tragic flightinto the sun tamp down my roaring flamesmake themsleeping embersthat smolderwhen i awaken Sumayyah Talibah © 10 February 2019 Cross posted to my Steemit blog. Tip jar: PayPal Cash App
contradiction she was made of sugarset on firedoused in honeyand sprinkled with saltrolled in crushed chilisthen dusted with perfume they tried to tameher hairher voiceher hips and thighsher breastsbut shecould not be contained she was too big for themand their boxand their chains she birthed worldsfrom her soul Sumayyah...
This is cross posted from my blog over at Steemit. the valley scrutinize the crooked lines of the path that i tread inquiring as to why everything i’ve touched has turned to sand parade my pain past crowds of ones who despise parade my pain with silent cries...
I started my creative life in the first grade, circa 1986, by declaring that I wanted to be an “author”. (I had no idea the word “novelist” existed back then.) I wrote my first “book” at age 8. In the next couple of years, I would “discover” poetry, thanks...
gravity it’s heavy the weight of this existence with its expectation to be better to be a credit to be one of the good ones whatever that means to prove that my life matters and not just to the person who birthed me i carry it with me on...
dreamscapes & space rocks the wind howls through my dreamscape its sound covers my heartbeat and footsteps as i scurry about and second guess the location of every ornament i place and the night blankets everything because i forgot to hang the moon dead rock reflecting light that will...
lemons i sat down to write a love letter to myself but my chair was wobbly so i fixed that first and then my dollar store pen was out of ink i found a crayon in 3 pieces under the bed next to a box of photographs of people...
Oh, my poor, neglected blog section. Hello, there. *echo* Right. Anyway, I’ve started blogging/writing/posting/whatever the kids are calling it these days on Steemit.com. According to them, they are “a blockchain-based rewards platform for publishers to monetize content and grow community.” Sounded easy enough. Here is a sample of my...
sirens bathing in the flashing lights trying to name the victim identify the crime red trucks black cars silver and gold shields pale fingers hover over the butts of their guns when the screaming starts the story stops every one of us knows just how it ends red blood...
In The End here i am bleeding from every pore snot and shame and tears cover the face which you ignore still i sing for my supper and i dance for your dimes even as my feet are cracked and broken and my voice is hoarse from whines and...
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