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Self-Love Is Key

A poem of understanding and unwillingess to be defined as one. Inspired by a quote from a friend of mine.

"What do you want to be in the future?"

Do I have to be something that suits you?

Tell me, Mama

Why can’t I be everything?

You gave me all this intelligence,

Your glorious gifts

Now you want me to be one?

No, Mama. 

I am one in many:

I'm a poet

I'm an artist

I'm a dreamer

I’m a future leader

I’m a truth speaker

I can’t be high, Mama

Because you didn’t tell me I was medium

Cursed and blessed with seven gates that never close

Through which the Spirit once phased, yelling in my temple

Hoping I would listen.


I’m a dream walker

Through the nights, treading the astral plane

Floating... Watching over others

I'm this blank canvas with shades of black tainted

A masterpiece never fully painted

I'm a technician

I'm a hound hugger

I'm a hopeless lover

I wear my heart on my sleeve

Then tie it neat, like a basket well woven

I'm broken

I'm a beautiful liar

I'm a tree under the cover of human skin

I am the Sun,

The cursed reflection of the faceless Moon

That lifted my heels and threw me into a vacuum

The lifeless, empty void of psychic limbo

Where our thoughts crossed

In night terrors and empathic agony.


I'm gentle

I'm intense

In every sense, Mama

Sensual to spiritual

A consuming heart, acidic to the valueless

I swallow every soul

And spit it out cleansed

I live at the mercy of Him

Who saved my soul from this consuming power

With a punch of humility

I'm the face that the Crow kissed and said:

"How easily you came and left

Did you not enjoy the forbidden Truth, my love?

I knew you were coming to see me

It was your destiny

Now take your return ticket and this paintbrush

You will be renewed in the morning

Farewell now,

I never want to see you here again

This is your final warning."


I'm a student above all

I'm the face that turns heads in a room

I'm different... yet

Mama, I'm still the same

I'm a Truth seeker

I'm twisted by grace

I've seen tears on every face

I'm the voice speaking for the mute

The Pearl beats drums in my roots

Still I count these rosaries

To obscure shamanistic tendencies

I'm one with my shadow

Never a victim, always a victor

I'm a writer

I'm a fighter

I'm a friend for hire

Love is my purpose

Listening, my essence

I walk lightly on the heavenly wire

Tested by fire

I'm an entrepreneur

A natural born meme connoisseur

I escaped from the circus

To avoid dealing with clowns 

Who dared touch my crown with venomous lip service.


I'm the Chef you raised

The immaculate, humbled man Baba raised

From the midst of mindless sheep

And corrupt whisperers

To the pedestal of an imperfect Bull

Carrying all it's failures like trophies

I'm an open book

With never ending pages

Coded with no codex in sight

Written in an ancient language none but You can read

Can't you see it, Mama?

Can't you tell?

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Self-Love Is Key
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