atlanta poetry

Lesbians that Receive More than They Give

“Fuck that bitch and she can rot in hell.”
I can’t wait to see the seat ready for her
to burn, and silently scream in, and sit there— like now.
“You ain’t shit” no longer holds any creditability
because I’ve said it every chance and time
she has made me feel small and overlooked.

I’m still hurting because she can’t stop apologizing
for something she did months ago and also continues.
Somebody should have sent reminders to me
about what I want and need, every day.
So whatever she does and says, I would actually
walk or run away from; she’s a cycle waiting for a trigger.

Nobody moved when I said it the first time
and of the most recent, I tried to whisper it.
Because she already knows it’s punctuation
to every missed opportunity to something
ignorantly romantic and tardily said.
So continue to witness her oversimplify my love.

Somebody tell me what to do and how to lie,
through the pain to keep it all together.
I don’t understand how I can be misunderstood
and cherished at the same time—
but I do the same with her and ask for
something different, and in return, she undeniably is still trying, too.

Keep on smilin’ and grin with no teeth,
to hide how your anxiety has eaten away
at your confidence and the warmth liquor courage brought.
She did not notice you had a problem after
you shut down and remained quiet until home;
smile through the hell she put you through and now.

instagram

If my heart could speak,
It would shout for you,
Leaping high for joy,
As you enter into the room,
No idea where I would be,
Without the rhythm of your tune,
My head was clouded with doubt,
My world stunted with gloom,
You are His chosen angel,
His masterpiece on display,
Your presence is a sample of His mercy,
Your life my saving grace
©Legend17
#poetry #poetrycommunity #positivevibes #qwoc #art #artistsoninstagram #boomerang #legendarysmurph #atlanta #poetsofinstagram #artwork #creative #original #love #spiritual #thankful #humpday #relationshipgoals #lesbian #cutecouples #sprung #poem #wcw #wce (at Downtown Atlanta)

Made with Instagram
Words to my Drunken lover

You call me late
Talking as if I was yours to take
You love me
And I love you
But only drunken words hold truth
Your sober thoughts come out to move
My heart to stop
However, your sober words don’t match your sober thoughts and I’m confused
Now you say I do
Do you
And I find myself amused
To all those drunken words
I thought held truth
What a fool
I am to love you
You gave away the only promise you made
Though in end it was yours to take
Foolish and naïve
To believe
Cause drunken words will never hold truth
If sober action doesn’t push you

Luna Bayou 🙄

Wooden Nickels

Before I sell my soul, I want to enjoy it.
I’ve lied more than I have loved
and I played ping pong with too many hearts.
You can feel the tension, it was thicker
than her thighs that summer she gave me all of her.

I can not say I deserve or knew it was coming.
Working from home and all day, in a temple
mostly closed and restrained behind fears.
You gave all day and much of your free time away
thinking about her and living in the past.

Take what you want of what you think happened.
You don’t have much left to pawn or
say you built with her— the spared memories and unrequited energy.
Move on and continue dancing around the bar.

I miss how you smell between your shoulders
and down below your hips, where I fit.
What change caused or contributed to the distance?
We had magic that only we understood;
a joy and love that sets you free.

I am not Afraid of the Dark

I am not afraid of the dark
or of his shadow at night
for I can see in his eyes
a moon-like golden light
and it leads me towards a path 
where king and queen walk side by side 
God be-fore us, no one against us
love between us

And I am at ease in the mold of his melanin
I don’t judge him by another’s sins
I know myself in the folds of his skin
I am not afraid of his dark complexion
In fact, in the dark, is where
I get lost in the mat of his hair
found in the promise
on the soft of his lips 
lost in the tenor of his voice
in the rough of his chest 
found in the roar of his strength
I am anchored in his self-assurance
His embrace, my ballast
I have roots in him, in his veins, thru his blood stream
I am not afraid of our dark 
I will never be afraid of him 
And why should I be, 
I love him

eMinor

instagram

I may never be who you think I am; I already am that I AM.
©JLMurphy2017

#facts #motivation #motivationalquotes #atlanta #spilledink #spilledpoetry #spilledthoughts #creativewriting #twoliners #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #poem #poems #IAM #qwoc #friday #boomerang #tgif (at Atlanta, Georgia)

Made with Instagram
The Places That Have Housed Me

I come from many places.
I come from Atlanta, Georgia
A quiet place where I made my first memories
Where white Christmas’ were normal
I come from Pass Christian, Mississippi
A place where I made my first real friends
But also where I experienced death for the first time
I come from Ocean Springs, Mississippi
A little town where I met my best friend
But also where I lost someone who I thought would never leave
I come from St. Martin, Mississippi
Where I learned to deal with all the change
But also where I learned true independence
I come from Mobile, Alabama
Where I have lived to receive my education
And where I strive to make everyone proud.

Forget What You Don’t Accept

All the love I needed was bundled in this bitterness
I held unto, when I let go of the hopes for us.
The hate was comforting but not enough
to stop fucking new women and wasting their times.

Closed my eyes and slept through the night
but up the first of the morning, and too ready
to defend intentions, instead of a heart—
Distractions will help pass the time, and this too.

Buying your poetry and pretending to feel lost
with references and motives she hid, in her heart.
I wanted to be there, for you and the ride yet
you wanted a sensation and not satisfaction.

Go-go music on the way to work,
Teedra Moses on the train, and way, home and
ignoring trees that remind me of a college sweetheart,
and loses we forget to wholeheartedly release.

Decadent music accompanying a bitterness that
fuels the fire to a Steel Wooly Heart.
The last choices before becoming like the
ones that burn us—
The Audacity of Hope to prevent the enjoyment of the warmth.

It’s easier to follow the distractions out the train’s window
and pretend the music drowning the noise,
or triggers of her tone, even if you seek
her in new women and times.

instagram

©JLMurphy2017

#poetry #poetrycommunity #poetryclub #poetryslam #poetryporn #poetryofig #spilledink #spilledpoetry #spilledthoughts #spilledpoetry #spilledwords #tbt #tbthursday #throwbackthursday #atlanta #poetsofinstagram #poem #motivation

Made with Instagram

Warm Sugar Cookies and Flat Champagne

“That’s that shit that I like—” turning me away only
to keep me coming back and for more,
of what is not mine or ever was.
She doesn’t mind wasting my time
to figure out what she wants, even now.

What are you doing, and why—
You pushed everyone else away to be alone
without explanations or any accusations.
You know what you were doing and
asked the questions later, and kept all the secrets.

There’s a woman I know, that kept
more than she earned, and paraded the rest.
She lassoed my heart and drug it to a finish line
with another, from before, losing control even now.
I perceived I was dreaming but awake to the piss-poor reality.

There still is a life inside and awake;
she’s got eyes, on me, but not the heart.
She never wholeheartedly wanted mine and the strings attached;
moving too fast and losing it, before the unreciprocated.
Let go before you lose more than control and devotion.

You spent nights rationalizing why you stayed
and defended her heart, and the past.
Falling in love with your spirit after the club
and the liquor instigating a forever, and always more permanent in memories.
You measured forever by temporary memories, and gestures.

Take your guilt,of wanting more and, anxiety of moving on
and love another, without becoming the heartbreak—
You let go of her and the pain, soon after.
Taking your own advice and allowing her more
control than she has earned— let her and it go.

Artificial Truths

You ain’t tryin’ to invest or put in more time
and I knew what you were before you showed me.
The best part of loving you is from a distance
because you value the art and not me, in the room.

What change would be enough to satisfy you?
What is ever enough, to show you I’m present?
Does this love and attention not make you feel free;
is it me you think of when you need to be held?

Make all my days dark and cloudy when we don’t speak
and I don’t hear your tone or heart thump near my cheek.
I need you closer than I want and presumed
because I still, and wholly, need you.

You’re the moon in my sky and I hope to be all your ‘good’ days.
Taking turns making each other’s night.
I miss you from the cracks on the bottom of your feet
to the jokes that fly right over your head.

“You don’t have to apologize anymore”
you’ve given me enough hollow ones
to carve out and create bowls to hold the rest.
Give me something that can not be challenged.

instagram

Happy wednesday #wednesdaywisdom #aheartsgarden #ThePricelessDiamond #TheTearsofMyInspirations #Life #Love #Relationships #Poetry #PoetryChypher #poetrycommunity #Peace #wordsfromheart #SpokenWord #deep #MaconArtist #MaconGA #KingBiggDogg #Atlanta #AtlantaArtist #ILoveYou #oneheart #onemind #onelove #Dreams #Dreamers #HustleGang @oprah #oprah #BlackPoets #BlackArt @iamsteveharveytv
#willsmith

Made with Instagram

Different Time and Friend Zones

I’ve always treated and seen you as a lady
but you know I enjoy the lace and rhinestones
around your thighs, too, and gripping your head back.
You can’t tell me I don’t own some part of you
and when I get, and become, like this I can’t stay long.

I heard no one has heard or knows of you
and I like that— and ready to make ‘em mad, too.
Running miles with the inches you give;
sending photos of trouble, instead of threats
and running out of excuses to want more than this.

There’s nothing I can’t handle, including you—
even tired of simply being your 'best friend.’
I’m holding on and to something greater
than these feelings, that are also in vain.
“When have I not been there?”

But nothing changes the way I want to hold
your heart and you— and what you allowed.
Hiding yourself when you undress and
naked, dripping with tears, when I’m “not present.”
Possibly the past is easy to accept or hold unto.

What is it today— a few months ago I had your attention
and this month we hardly share memories or orgasms?
Who do think I have been with you, this far?
I could not give up; I wanted to be here—
but did you want me, and truly, there?

Do you, too, feel how hard it is to keep your arms to yourself?
I’m used to pouring myself all on you
and listening to you pour your day into mine.
What am I to do— listening to you speak
with a heart, aimlessly dangling, in front of me?