'Desire' 'to' ' Inspire' 'Scholarship' 'Slam'
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I wanna grasp tight
I losing sight...
Prolonging aches,
Unsettling hype....!
I wanna fly high
My burning sigh...
Now, awaits none
Not even strive...!
Her next challenge is flooding right in front of her
And the rough stones tremble underneath her feet
I wake up the next morning with tear stains down my cheek.
Puffy eyes, still can barely breathe. Can't comprehend...
Without you here.
"What inspires you?"
"What inspires me?"
"Yeah what makes you do what you do?"
I took a breath to think of what I'm about to say,
"Music inspires my creativity and let's me confide,
Through the darkest valley
these soldiers do go,
weaving 'round the allies,
through fire and snow.
Tired of bullshit
coming from perves,
from misogynists,
from male "leaders."
The sounds of chords, bass, and drums in a beat.
Puts a scorching fire in me, and keeps me up my feet.
Kendrick Lamar, Tyler the Creator, and J.Cole (sounds like coal)
When I hear a line in a song that sends shivers down my spine –
When I see a painting that dazzles my eyes –
When I see a scientist speak of the Voyager spacecraft,
Wildly, exuberantly –
Four
Witty Jokes, thought-provoking questions, meaningful discussions
Happiness lingers in our presence, never a moment without excitement
One falls. Jealousy.
Three
War, a Young Man's game
For he speaks with Young Man's voice.
And his wild wolfish words a cause for young men to rejoice.
The old men pass him by, ears deaf with thunder lead
I have a fire within me
An inferno barely contained
within the crevices of my soul
It creeps upwards, upwards, ready to come out
Ready to scream out
And I try to retain it
This time I'm alone
In familiar surroundings
I am able to tune it out
While the radio is still tuned in,
And I can hear the TV from the living room
And I look up to the sky
And I say Wow
We were nurtured in orchards. Day and night, our cultivator painstakingly
harrowed hard dirt until the earth was tilled into something more habitable.
Leaving,
Evening is upon, so I leave,
Push through the crowds and arrive to my secret house,
And I enter.
Soft lyrics, a simple beat --
vibrations within the air --
lo-fi music to soothe me;
bouyant sounds to inspire.
Musical inspiration
allows me to write stories.
Who knew that sounds and voices
I find poetry playing in your sweet smile,
Passion reflected in the universe of your eyes,
Music that twists and shimmers in your voice.
When I wish to create beauty,
I take my pen and sketch you
In words.
You, my snowstorm mother—gray lady
of winter destined to suffer, wailing
like one of the damned as death shudders
through you with an echo. An echo
of the hollow girl stolen away by the sun;
Inspiration
I find it in anything
And everything
I find it scattered among my senses
The stinging feeling of winter's frozen bite
The hush sound of the ocean waves as they fall and rise
We’re in a state of constant clapotis—
reaching chaotic spikes that look like progress,
but never really moving at all.
Simulated punctuated equilibrium.
The sound of many noises.
The placement of many voices.
Voices of those who create melodies.
Voices that can become remedies.
Remedies for pain unseen.
Remedies of hapiness redeemed.
Everyone has a desire to inspire.
Everyone can inspire through fire.
Everyone has a fire that burns inside.
Everyone keeps that fire hidden, until someone opens it.
Everyone needs to let their fire run free.
What comes from the darkness,
But an opportunity for light.
Faced with the world's starkness,
There's only left to fight.
For problems breed solutions,
And corruption breeds reform,
Born through the thick flesh
placed in the hands of a stranger,
into which I could not see.
Though once I opened my eyes
I saw them, the ones who loved me.
Years and years go by
Late at night
Looking through the windows
of the second story bedroom,
a couple hours after bedtime,
After reading her favorite books
When I'm feeling tired And uninspired I turn on my location And look for motivation. But the road to success and the address To Happiness is a journey Not a destination.
When I'm feeling tired And uninspired I turn on my location And look for motivation. But the road to success and the address To Happiness is a journey Not a destination.
The warm, salty air assualted my nose as I hopped onto the aging dock just outside my house.
I looked out at the reflections in the water.
I could see the bridge, the seagulls, and me.
there are words in my mouth disguised as sugar and honey.
they roll off my tongue in a delicate routine i’ve preformed my whole life
tasting like arsenic as they burn my tongue and throat.
To the woman who lived in the face of borders
The first a country whose language she did not know
To marry her love and only know the meaning of the word "wife" and move
thousands of miles away from home
Addiction. It was always there growing up with you.
You taught me to walk, talk, and ride a bike. Dad, look at me! I’m doing it!
You would leave and I would stay laying and crying.
Daddy’s little girl, you would say.
Inspiration.
The lady in red, all dressed to impress
she's going out tonight.
3rd date, that's when you know you've made it.
When I joined I felt so weak
Looking at myself made me reek
I was so fat
I couldn't get up when I sat
It was so hard in the beginning that I almost quit
I knew if I stopped I would't get fit
Expecting me to be a doctor
Xeroxing me to be like my brother
Persuading me with her indoctrination
Even when I have my own ambitions
Can you see I want to be more than a physician
Tell me what can and can't
Five to seven weeks
I’m hoping for past 80 years for me
Designed with a purposed
I had to find my own
Five to seven weeks
I used to look to the stars
Back before I understood the cosmos
I, the lizard in need of affirmation
Only drew light from a dead source
I attended an emotional burial
In the carpeted room designed
Little girl picked up a stick, not knowing how long it would be
A journey began, she found in herself what she needed to see
Confidence and self-love rose above, higher than she could know
They are warriors for a just cause,
Their great character deserves applause,
While the memory of them is bittersweet,
In our hearts they will never be obsolete.
a canvas that’s not white when empty, but Blue:
Maya Blue, Royal Blue, Sapphire Blue.
Time slipping through the fingers
like molten glass, stopping Memories
I see a green tree
I think of her
I see a green Starbucks straw
I think of her
I see a green road sign
I think of her
A Beautiful Place
We walk these halls and only see the surface
But little do we know how much is buried inside
We look at these faces without seeing the wounds
Here’s to the mavericks!
What a bunch of assholes.
To imagine a better world,
They have the gall to challenge the status quo,
By spinning thin air into gold!
I’m a snowflake drifting through the air
It’s below freezing and no one seems to care
I criticize my crystal eyes, on my route to the ground
The wind blows hard against my scars,
Love is a trap.
Love gets a bad rap.
But why not?
You do what you don’t ought.
Just like me, you’ll see.
I met someone by accident.
I quickly thought it was meant
to be. That we were destined.
There are lots of other weavers,
They sit at their looms and flow into the string.
Most of them sit above me.
I watch their work flood into the streets,
For the world to see.
It overwhelms me.
I prefer my words to live along my pia mater and not on paper
Somehow, they are more vivid there
More true
Yet something is compelling me so strongly to write them
Type them
Down
My thoughts of you
His luminescent skin
To the fine hairs beneath his chin
The faint sparkle in his eyes
Pushes me every morning to rise
The intensity in his movements
Excites me to make improvements
I was so wrong, hewas the one was supposed to love me. Instead, he strippedthe life right out of me. He took awaymy burning passion for life, mywant to do anything but make him my world. Self-worth,
I believe my life started when I hopped in a treehouse and saw the world
Or possibly a little later with a trio who couldn’t stray from trouble,
whether that be a camp of gods or a magical school
The cold, the pressure, it excites me.
Seeing others in, it motivates me.
Without it, I am a snake,
Within it, I am a fish.
It is my life,
Softly spoken words tickle my conscience
A wisdom that only a grandmother could know
Words that inspire me
Words that help me grow
“Can’t let nobody kill my soul and bring me down…”
As her sweet voice escaped from my earphones,
one by one,
the frozen twigs transformed into enormous palm trees, each swaying with life
I am inspired by those who Love
unconditionally
always
everyone
Those who view their love not as something to be earned, but as something given freely
I am inspired by those who hurt
As time continues forward there’s always been this lonesome thought floating in my mind ever since I was a child: “Why good people let themselves get treated so badly”. This phrase was the root of my insperation that my mind had graced me with.
My life clock strikes twelve years.
I can’t help but hold back the tears.
My mother must go to a home that is no longer hers.
Leaving behind only a curse.
All the time I wonder how she has the time.
Mama how did you sit and listen to me whine.
Long brown hair with whisps of grey,
my mama inspires me everyday.
She holds my hand and helps me stand tall.
The timbre of a breeze induced whisper
fills my head with the buzz of nature,
the crispness of shadows,
stark, against the radiance of light,
flirts with the spectrum
of wilderness shades.
Love
You never realize it but
Love
Is everywhere
All pink and rosy
In my hair, under my nails, beneath my feet
I’m commended and cast out for my old soul,
For my preference of a paperback between my fingertips,
For my hips swaying to the soul of the sixties,
Chats with friends.
A song on the radio.
A YouTube video or TV show.
A play.
I can find all the inspiration I need.
It flourishes naturally, no effort required.
Inspiration comes in exotic waves.
The biggest wave that crashes onto me is how people admit to their flaws.
Tears may fall,
and bodies might shake.
But being brave is what is most inspiring.
Inspiration
What is it ?
It's that feeling of having a great idea
We all get inspiration from many things
Music, books, and even stains on the ground
When it comes to my inspiration what is the key?
That is a marvelous question to contemplate you see.
It all starts with listening to an upbeat tune
Here I am today
Standing tall and mighty
waiting for graduation
the succcessful ending I've been waiting for.
I couldve gave up
but im still pushing through
to make my momma proud
Dear Old Self,
How are you?
It’s been a while, hasn’t it?
I would be lying if I said I missed you.
If I can recall, it took a while to erase away the bad memories of you, and now you want back in?
WHY
Look up
Look around, Dear friend,
the answer to the question you seek is why.
Why does the sun set and rise
Take a breath as the sun begins to rise.
Like a child, your imagination soars.
Breaching with potential-- eyes on the prize,
Your savor this and move on seeking more.
All you have to do is believe
I wake to a sea of golden rays falling upon my face
This is the day I start my new path
I was born again like a new born seeing the world for the first time
What was once a set of lines
Is now a dance of chords
Is now a song of emotion
Is now a breath of air
Music has only been heard
Through the instrument that plays them
I look and see,
But no one really struggled like me.
In this open book,
The words have me shook.
Trying to study
Once the dust of sleep is relieved from my eyes, my first thought is green
This gets me out of the warm, comfortable area where I sleep
I think I could stare into the sky forever
No matter what colors it contains in its depths
Sophomore year marching band practice
caught marveling over a dance of
burnt oranges and pastel pinks
914 days, 8 hours, and 15 minutes
Since I began this long journey of higher education
Since I decided that I will be more not only for me but for you:
The woman who has let me see what some of this world has to offer
My eyes were opened
I saw her pain
Though she smiled
Though she laughed
Her heart was tired
It hit me hard to see her hurt
Culture is a loaded word.
It conjures different images for different people.
For me, it brings me to a faraway land.
Taiwan:
Bustling streets of busy people
Motorcycles and angry drivers
Inspiration, for me
comes from the ink carved squiggles
of the written word.
Never before has anything
been more beautiful
What if my twin sister wasn't gay? Would the people actually care? Would they let her breathe in the same air?
What if her girlfriend wasn't gay? Could he walk to school without these little boys being so cruel?
A titter tatter in the morning hours wakes me
A simple thing
One heard by all every morning
Yet a treasure to me
I can’t remember how it feels to feel
Something,
Anything.
I want to feel again.
Anger, sadness,
Even hatred.
Tiny paws, reaching up so high
Grasping my fingers with tiny claws
Little mewls, screwed-shut eyes
The mother's patience made me pause
Watching her, kind as can be
Nursing her little ones, softly purring
It is not easy to follow the path of another or to find your own
But which will leave you stranded in a shadow
And which will lead you into the light of day
Click, the sound of my camera goes off.
Smiling faces gliming towards me.
What more could I ask for?
Familar faces surrounding me and my hope and dreams standing right by me.
My thoughts taking hold in my journal,
I've said goodbyes and had close calls
My grandparents and aunts, I lost them all
My mom's stroke could have been much worse
My dad's illness is still running its course
All the pain takes its toll
Im at the start of a journey
One that is harder than it is long
that journey will toss me around
and it will sure try to buck me off
but I'll stay on.
Many people wont approach that bucking bull
it struck me in the veil of night
in a silence so quiet, it seemed to scream out to me
in the deep breaths and the tears on my pillow
nighttime itself was tangible, definite
Kids dive into their imagination
To look and seek for inspiration
They find ideas for games, stories and art
But that kind of inspiration doesn’t come from the heart
How can we drive with no direction ? How can me live with no passion ?
To inspire means to do something creative the ability fill someone
Motivation is the way but having the ability to move, jump, shake,
I've come to you from the dark corners
with nothing
but a candle and a star
I have not much to give
with my empty palms
but I am capable of love, happiness, and dreams
This is the story of my battle with depression. This is the account of my life before I overcame chronic anxiety and constant dejection.
The muse.
It stems from the inside
When searched for outside.
The muse.
It is in the form
Not in the function.
The muse.
It is in the fancy
Rather than the facts.
Little wandering human,
Don’t lose yourself in this world.
Remember who you are,
Don’t lose yourself in shiny things and a fancy car.
Remember why you’re here,
A blade of grass in a field
Bending in the breeze.
Closer,
Dew shines,
Each tiny droplet shining against the
Fantastically green blade, reflecting the
Gaze of the sun.
How is it that
For the love of humans
earth is falling apart
Insects fry by the kiss of the sun,
animals drown in their own sweat
For the love of humans
Legs aching, hot sun parching the tongue and skin
rag tag garments only barely perserving modestly
deep in the heart of Nairobi Kenya
making the daily trip for water
In Abuela's arms
I am safe and home.
My nose is burried
in her black silk hair
With the smell of lavender
And vanilla near.
Her arms will wrap me
In an embrace cloth with memories.
I gave up writing years ago.
When I was told I wasn’t worth teachers’ time,
When the pen was ripped from my hand
I am what I am but
I’m inspired by what I could be —
the smoldering bit of coal named
A raindrop on a car window
A lightbulb flickering across the room
A shuffle to reach the cold side of a pillow
And a tear falling from the eyes of a happy groom
The way he smiles in my direction
Inspire
Something that people strive to do in the knick of time
Leave a footprint on our brittle soil of Earth once they leave
And some day it may or not be me
They say Where are you from? you look like a Brooklyn girl
I say yeah straight out the Bush the heart of Brooklyn yeah that’s where I’m from
Light a fire of desire
Inside a home with no walls;
The warmth of your words
Cascading to inspire—
All my future hopes to hold
The best things come in two
The flowers with spring
The stars and moon
Mother oh mother, how she would sing
Big strong father, who calls my name
The best things come in two
The flowers with spring
The stars and moon
Mother oh mother, how she would sing
Big strong father, who calls my name
1995, the war has ended, a family with a three year old little girl
A family that looks as it has seen dark nights and even darker days
A family that had survived a genocide in the 19th century
Voices
Voice of the child, babbling and happy
Voice of the woman, soft and warm
Voice of the man, husky and strong
Voices together in song
Pictures of heaven
Goosbumps on arms
Voices
In a sunny day, I pass the streets of the city, cars zoom by, people on their phones.
If you look closely at the shadows, the corners full of grime and dirt, you see the reality of the city.
Inspiration is hard to describe.
There may be time where it just randomly hits.
There may be times it won't come at all.
For me inspiration comes in different forms.
There's a little light in me
A spark you may say
It keeps me moving forward
Even through the rough days
It tells me to keep going
It tells me to stay strong
The hardest thing to understand is
Why and when and how?
Where is it that we start our lives?
The answer isn’t now.
The answer is you’re always living
Each action and each step
They told you life was full of dreams
so I buckled in and got secure
they forgot to mention what it means
the bumps and turns you'll endure.
It's not always about the gold
I look into their eyes
and I know they are watching me.
I see their smiles
and I know they have been expecting me.
I hear their words
and I know they are telling me they need me.
I feel their hearts
So many things can be inspiring,
the birth of a newborn baby or even Jesus dying.
People choose their inspirations so easily,
its almost as natural as a family.
People get inspired by a good, happy event,
September 16, 1997
His first little child came on down from heaven.
He got mad, threw a fit and told the doctors,
"You better save both my wife and my daughter!"
What is time ?
A thing we created
Time is Timeless
Or Can time really run us short ?
They say Time heals all
Well time will tell
Time is a virtue
Time is a Spell
Casted out to us all
When we were all born,
we had a simple beat in our chest.
Our hearts keeping rhythem,
growing into something I do best.
Tapping my foot
to the sound I hear.
The symphonic simplicity
When we were all born,
we had a simple beat in our chest.
Our hearts keeping rhythem,
growing into something I do best.
Tapping my foot
to the sound I hear.
The symphonic simplicity
The wall is white.
Everything that was part of the room is white.
The objects we own defines difference.
No matter where we move these objects
What inspires me?
I find it when I look into those piercing emerald eyes
And those cheekbones that could win a prize.
Or the curly hair that we both share.
At times I feel like the world is on my shoulders
My life follows a repetition each day
Everything seems to revolve around time
At one point in life everyone feels down
They feel like there may not be any hope left
They might even have some sorrows they would like to drown
Because they feel like a wreck
