I know it’s only by God’s hands, a ton of ambition and lots of good loving that we haven’t dropped dead from a fatal dose of exhaustion. Life is constantly on a senior year final’s week dopamine roller coaster of a ride. Some days I don’t even want to see or touch our bedroom floor . . . *extended sigh* and believe it or not it has nothing to do with the mountains of clean, unfolded clothes populating the 5 foot drop cloth in the farthest corner of our bedroom. The clean clothes pile up in your space. We’re tired
He’s waited on me hand and foot what more could I ask of Him? but that look. The look in His eyes when he sees me cringe. I’m strong. I fear no pain, but I believe He hates me in agony, and this has been nothing less. I’ve lost all control of when and where i go and worst, what I am able to do for myself. The messes we’ve made He cleans them up. the messes I’ve made He clears those too. When I can barely move— stand, take one step—he
I can never really understand how people, humans, can be relentlessly mean, rude, hateful, unjust, neglectful, oppressive to other beings who share their likenesses—with no prior aggravated cause—seriously, could someone please explain what sort of evil must possess your spirit to warrant you to live so heartless? How can you walk among the breathing and act as if they are dead . . . even worst, invisible. How can you act with such disregard for your fellow woman, man, boy or girl? What is it that you fear so much that you’d live so cross—so guarded?
Act 1, Scene 1 Who prays for your water droplets? Alarm clocks blaring—our sightless hands search the nightstand and windowsill trying to dismiss the inevitable arrival of morning. Still despite our success of stopping the noises, sunlight casually makes its way through our blinds, lighting our four walls. We drag ourselves from our disheveled bed like zombies most days, only to be fully awoken by the beads of water which commit suicide dawn after dawn against our tired and fragile bodies. By the time we’ve secured the doors to our home, our late rising has caught up to us. Yet, we proceed
The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane. -Marcus Aurelius I fumbled on my hands and knees searching. My ears could hear the frantic scuffling of my fingers to the ground behind me, and my eyes could see the world– a side-view –turning dark before me. I felt a feeling deep within my gut and my entire world collapsed, because my body
All that we are is a result of what we have thought. – Buddha What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them. – Mark 11:24
The Muses in Order by Appearance Tru Bey: The Scientist Nahdee Shula (Nadie): The Gypsy Queen Nadira: Universe E. English (Egypt English aka E²): The Master Painter Seaera Marie: The Flower Child (Does not appear in Scene One) Act I, Scene I — I AM Tru yellin’ from the roof top: Yo, where the fxck ish E? Nahdee in the penthouse suite screaming through the ceiling: “Last I heard She was up there plotting with you.” Aye, don’t worry about where I’m at, or who I’m with, just know I’m busy doing me —thunders Egypt’s voice from everywhere… Peace God,
At one point I held you high above my mental capabilities–I am sorry. And I am aware now, for the first time in my life, of the sound a body makes as it hits concrete. I know now how quiet it becomes directly following the impact. I could hear the stillness of your heart in the silence–and it was agony watching your eyes bleed out. It was then my heart pounded hard in my chest, harder than it’s ever done. Vowing forever one beat for me, and three to revive and sustain you. E. English Poetry © 2015 E. English Publishing
My legs are swift, and all that I know of jukin’ is in full effect, but still the hairs on my arm singe amidst the rising falling heat. Pride won’t allow my lips to be parted—I will not, cannot allow my pain to show. I’ll be cinders before my feet stop running. Never would I have guessed, I would see the day that I’d accept a marathon through hell again. Signed, E. English ♥
You have to learn how to move your shit around. A lot. And how to toss the shit you don’t need today outta mind ‘though never really out of sight… I’ve spent a lot of priceless time tripping over things -a ton of unnecessary expenses. just shit all over the floor, all in my mental. I had to learn to keep my balance even while falling because living with what you have, and what you don’t will show you exactly what you need that’s not much. Egypt English 2015 © E. English Publishing