a new foundation

Just to give you some insight, and another side of me of which you may not know of, I write poetry, abstract poetry, slash short stories. I’ve been doing this for about 7 years now. And it all started with lyrics resembling hip-hop and transitioned into poetry, If one wants to call it that. I don’t consider, myself, a writer. I feel as if the definition of a writer is one who follows guidelines, structure, punctuation, grammar, etc. I feel as if writers have to filter their work. I don’t follow any guidelines nor have a filter of any sort. Truthfully, I sometimes don’t even understand what I write, but during the course of writing something, a chapter, as I call it, it tends to make sense. So I just write. I am “write”, the simple, no sentence, neither noun nor verb attached word itself, write. I’m (right) write.

This next chapter is called, a new foundation.

The title comes from the separation of my parents roughly 2 years ago. The reason the title being “a new foundation” is because I feel as if my mother was the old foundation. She was the one that kept the family together, in a sense of always reminding us about birthdays of relatives that we may have missed, to bringing together the family on holidays. She was basically the Conductor of the orchestra. And as my parents extracted from each other I felt as if the family collapsed. And here I step in; using the title “a new foundation” as if I’m it. In this chapter, the soil resembles myself, as the seeds resemble my family.

Here we go…

My skin is of a soils texture, redeeming its place along side fabric, which happens to be the seeds masked under it. For I am naked before the sun’s warmth, exposing myself upon the seeds that are buried under me. A family tree left for exile, for its time has come. But through aggression, intellectual depression, and masterfully monitored by intentions to let go, I prevail, and let go. As if tears have been squeezed from a dry sun, onto my seeds so they can feel my emotion. So they can feed off my pain. It is impossible not to love you, so I continue too. Love who you ask? I love you, my poppa and momma, their poppa their momma, my brother, my uncles, my nephews, my cousins, to their future lovers. Please excuse my accent for I am new to these fertilizing duties to further imply to you that I will not fail this time. I am not really sure what this is about, when winds are crashing down, and the surface starts to tremble. But I have been taught well; well enough to engrave each of my heartbeats into your stomachs, so you can grow into the family tree I once remembered. Just the thought of your branches waving, leaves flaming, free from hatred and separation I engage, faithfully into our newfound bond. And we shall grow, through blizzards and snow, through waves of heat, until the earth buries itself. I stand above you my seeds, explaining my mission, so you can breath within with ambition to leave it to me. Just listen…