Pick yourself up.
Pull yourself together.
You are not defined by the pieces you’ve been left in.
—  Frankie Ryott, deardeceiver.
We built our love out of sugar cubes.
Brick by tiny brick, until we had four walls and a gable roof.
It sounded so innocent at the time,
I could lick my finger and drag it down the walls.
A kiss never tasted as sweet as when it was your lips against mine.
But sugar does not fare well in the rain, does it darling,
and neither do you.
—  “Untitled” | E. Day, 2017

Things I learned from Dad and lovers

How to lie well

Condoms are cheaper than plan B

If you don’t want more children, follow the vasectomy guidelines

If you don’t want your children, get a divorce

If you’re going to be stupid, you better be tough

If you’re going to be tough, sometimes you can be stupid

Spankings get your point acrossed

Channel catfish prefer peanut butter to designer bait

Catfish prefer you butter them up before the first date

I love you doesn’t mean I’ll sacrifice

I love you doesn’t mean I need you

I love you does not mean I’ll stay


Stop sending text messages after the fifth with no reply

Stop drinking whiskey after a fifth with no reply

Pay your rent before the fifth, or the fees get kinda high

A strong man doesn’t need to fight

A strong mans fights should be short enough to leave before the cops arrive

A strong man will not cry

A strong man will not cry

I am not a strong man

A quiet man should not be angered, nor interrupted, rather valued, and respected

How to talk my way out of a ticket

How to talk my way out of any sort of meaningful relationship

I am not a quiet man, either

The Nazis killed a flying fuckload of the Polish and that’s basically why I exist, the halflife of hope is approximately three dead dreams, and there’s no coming back from an unrequited “I miss you”

I’m sorry I broke your heart. Your love is a storm I can no longer partake in. As you nurse the heart I broke ; you will see it sing again. And slowly your heart will realize that it was better off without me. And I apologize for holding it in the first place.
—  Sorry // Conee Berdera

I often think of you in the early morning
Before the light peaks through my blinds
Before the world is awake and vibrant
It is these early morning memories that seem to drown me

I lay in bed naked except for the blankets covering my body
Feet twisting and turning, searching for the cold parts of the bed where my body has not lain

It amazes me how a bed can be warm with only one body
The thought of being alone would plague me
The thought fills every crack and crevasse of my mind
How can I be complete as only one person?

I think of you
And her
I replay old conversations between us only it is her voice I imagine, not mine
I think you brush her hair out of her face the same way
Call her baby the same way
Dance terribly to make her laugh the same way

See, that’s your problem baby
You never grow up
You let yourself fall into the same circle of madness over and over again and call it love

You left me looking for freedom,
Instead you gave it to me

“Untitled” This morning, over a cup of coffee, realizing I am complete without you. | E. Day, 2017


My lover looks like stardust

That is to say when you took your first breath fifteen red giants felt compelled to go supernova

That is to say, you tipped the balance of beauty in this universe so much that some pretty things had to die

That is to say, sometimes when I look at you, I can feel my pulse screaming cosmic dust through my body

I can feel my brain lose its sense of color

I can feel these lover-tinted glasses turn my room into a cathedral

Stained glass everywhere and I have not yet begun to worship

You look like church and icecream dates and marigolds the size of my heart

You taste like springtime and tangerines and shitty tobacco

You smell like comforters and home and everywhere I’ve ever wanted to be

See, nothing ever prepared me for this

Nothing ever prepared me for wanting to beat your inconveniences to pulp

Nothing ever prepared me to see gold in someone’s eyes or to have my ribs rendered useless at protecting my heart

Nothing ever prepared me for softness at three in the morning creeping into my soul the way birds invade the morning quiet

How could it?

I am softer now

My lover looks like stardust

Sprinkled through my nights.


Woh saamney waalon ki larki hai na, Zoya? Raat ko gaari main beththi hai, waapis hi nahin aati.

Barri beghairat hai, Allah maaf karey, barri beghairat hai.

When I was 17, my best friend told me to not wear my Lady Gaga t-shirt to a chota sa get together.

Merey bhai or uskey dost hon gey, awaien tumhari bund maarein gey.

Baat toh uski bilkul sahi thi magar meri samajh sey thori baahir;

Bund kyun maarein gey? Lun pey nahi charhthay?

It’s a Lady Gaga shirt, I’lll wear it fucking everyday.

But kher I didn’t wear it that Wednesday and forgot about it, muted my gay

Made chummy with the big boys to smoke a few Js,

I smoked a few Js, confused purrey dil sey keh

This is the entirety of fun promised? the Falcon main cruising, the boys beer boozing,

I was taught to straighten back, heavy my voice and yes, still subtly, to mute my little gay

Because have you heard about the gashtiyan and the kanjariyan, these Lahoris would say.

Aitchisonian friendships are all boys, the girls are nothing but our toys —

You take one out at a farewell afterparty, I’ll take one on the drunk ride back and phir

Issey pehlay keh gets attached, I’ll tell all my boys her pussy trash:

I sound like Post Malone or Eminem at best, don’t know how big is yey taste test

She’s an ugly gashti yaar, buhat time waste.

Beghairati hai.

Which LAS boy killed which bitch driving drunk after a Model Town shindig?

Which of them escaped and which of them stayed? Beghairati hai.

Which new boy says that loose moral larki raped them yesterday?

I was so fucked man, woh charh gayee merey pay. Beghairati hai.

Barra bhai is studying at Queen Mary and chota wants McGill,

No one fought for the distinction scoring bhehan, larkion key liye LUMS fits the bill.

Tum 30 saala kojay ban jao toh business aur bachi tumhari,

Hashtagged wedding with the 16 saala “heard she’s a beghairat” kawaari.

Boy key saath barra hand hua, woh rave pey jaa key puking galore

Bachi dying on a roofied drink, what a fucking stupid whore

He cheated on her for two whole years, boy was horny but so in love

She made out with that loser once, dirty filthy ugly slut

Ammi I’m going to stay the night, drunk drive all over the streets

Don’t you think it’s dangerous for aapa to drive home alone as a 2AM feat?

Feminism’s a joke, yaar, like everything else these so called women condone

Humari maa ko dekho, sacrificed everything for the home.

Crop top pehna, what a chutiya!

Ghar late aayi, how ghatiya?

Make up sey randi full obsessed, look at me i was my gym’s most overdressed.

But kher, buhat hogaya. Mera tumhara phadda nahi hai.

Don’t you dare tell me what the rules are, call me a chakka or whatever you’ve got

Meri jaan merey boy we don’t play the same game a lot, maybe bhenchod not at all.

Toh party pey toh jaana hai, dance bhi maachod karna hai

Gaana mainey bajana hai, naach bhi dekhana hai

If I need your brawn to hold the flicker light,

I’ll counsel you how to hold your liquor right.

Mesh wali crop top toh meri dost pehan rahi hai,

Highlighter toh main laga raha hoon.

Just like you, she might slut it out

If you’ve got a chull, shut it out.

Saari baajiyon ko bata doh key unki sharafat nahi maang rahay hum;

Hongay hoe, hongay gashti but tumhari zaat ko honi nahi chahiye problem.

Kurrion ki tarhan tumhari izzat utaroon ga, haan merey jigger:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Saarey boyz ka naam mitti main mila doon gah, yes my champ:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Saarey raaz tumharay khulwa doon ga:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Aitchison main rape kar key dikah, apni history bana keh dekha,

Yain machani hai toh yain hai, embarassing details hazaar hain, sun merey naraaz dost:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Meri dost Zoya hai na, she just likes to have fun. She also likes to write, roam the raat.

Her interests and wants were probably never a feminist propaganda, more so dil ki baat.

Woh apni Uber khud bulati hai, harr party pey puhanch jaati hai.

Holds for me my flicker light, teaches me how to hold my liquor right.

Taught me how to Kanye rap and mix magic with my own two hands.

Hates when she has to tell her friends to cover up cause the men around won’t do the same with their lies,

But I’ve seen her scare the launda type with the bat of her loving eyes

Meri dost Zoya hai na, gaari main bheththi hai, kabhi waapis nahi aati:

Jee haan beghairait hai, toh beghairati hai.

Nahi boloon ga main deeper, nahi ugaa raha main daari,

Watch me fucking fight this city driving in my gaari.

Phel dena hai, tey, phel dai! Phir, uth jayein gey.

Thappar maaray ga, teh maar ley. Phir, beghairat bunn jayein gey.

Baad main jo bhi hona hogay, woh merey pey chorr dey tu.

Tub tuk main awaara and this has nothing to fucking do with you.


Hey y'all! Check out my Black Girl Magic short film! Link in bio!! #blackgirlmagic #poetry #shortfilm #spokenword #magic #love #blackbeauty

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today i noticed that the river will always flow. white clouds will always turn grey. flowers will always bloom and the sun will shine after the rain. that life can’t be the same. it will change and shift. the days won’t ever be the same. some better then others. and that’s okay. life would be so mundane if it was the same. if we were the same. wouldn’t it be? if you and i liked the same things, spoke the same way. if you and i dressed the same and ate the same things. life will always be a wonderland full of surprises and that’s the best part. we can learn so much from nature and animals about how staying still. being still. can be the worst thing we can do to ourselves.
—  S.Bashir

I cannot think about the way your lips would feel against mine. Your hands tracing their way up my back, the nape of my neck and into my hair. What your voice would sound like - just before dawn has cracked and you are on the cusp of sleep and reality. You have worked your way into every aspect of my life, and I am afraid I have fallen for you in every sense.

Why Do You Write Poetry
Lonesome Big Mike

Why Do You Write Poetry

By: LonesomeBigMike

Because football was kinda dumb.
Because people thought I’d be bad at it.
Because the little broken boy I used to be would’ve liked it.
Because my sister laughed at me when I told her.
Because my mother taught me to not give a single flying fuck about what anyone I do not love thinks of me.
Because dad called it gay, and my gay friends are pretty chill
Because this way when I bitch about her it’s art.
Because there is a crying old man in my chest with an axe made of ink, and he’s only half way done cutting down the tree I hung the boy in me from.
Because I’ve forgotten to say I love you.
Because my best friend died and the last words I said to him were the least poetic I’ve ever spoken.
Because I didn’t go to his funeral.
Because I didn’t give a gun a blowjob last year.
Because I didn’t have a dad until I didn’t want a dad anymore.
Because it’s more therapeutic than drugs, and drugs are more therapeutic than therapy
Because two months ago I called my stepfather dad and he didn’t realize I didn’t call him by name.
Because I am an oak tree covered in burnscars and pixiedust and thick ass black body hair that just refuses to fall the fuck over.
Because yesterday I watched the most gandalf looking motherfucker on this planet wake up from a coma and growl at me for a cigarette and a beer.
Because if I get famous Morgan Freeman will read my shit.
Because in 25 years my kids might feel like this.
Because in 25 years I might be dead.
Because in 25 years I want to look back at my youth and know that I was heard.