30/11/11

i've had alot of phonoe poetry lately,

but there's something about putting your pen to a page and letting yourself explode onto there.

there's something about it

there's something about scribbling quickly across your canvas trying to capture the language of your pen.

and something about feeling filled when words have filled the page

there's something about the way your fullstops and commas stop and pause with a yearning for continual

and you know this poem is going to be residual

because you pen and your fingers have written this one perfectly 

and it doesn't matter if the words at the end of each line rhymes of doh rhyme because your poem rhymes

and a thing about the way your words stare up at you and seem pleased with their perfect selves

there's something about the way your handwritting says to you that your language isn't forbidden

and looking at your words knowing they've already scored themselves

there's something about it

yeah

but now and again the perfect penmanship in the lettering of the letters cant give a poet the release he needs like his own handwritting does

like unperfect perfect letters on an offering page can

Copyright ©2011

 

--Love and Freedom

---Kerry-Ann Davis

What Can You Call Your Own?

Being out of touch is not delightful. It is indeed not delightful when it becomes easy to vacillate, swaying from side to side, each side being a view of what someone else has presented to you. There is no fun in not having concrete opinions. How do you begin to define your life then, if there is no substance adequate for definition of self? How are your footsteps and fingerprints traced back to you when it’s so easy to brand them onto someone else? What type of resistance is necessary when somebody can grab convictions right out of you arms and rightfully call it theirs? What resistance is necessary for that? And how do we begin to vindicate ourselves of the charges?

This is literally the story of our lives. But there’s a hole in us waiting to be filled with convictions of our own, to fill that hole in the world that is beginning to swallow us whole and until this message is spread and received openly by recipients, we’ll forever be at an impasse to progress.

--Love and Freedom

---Kerry-Ann Davis

Poet: Carvens Lissaint

Poet:: Kai Davis

i look like

25/11/11

Funny how time can cause wars to dissolve and disappear

And creates new structures that concretely hold up relationships

 And how it propounds space for security

Palms are suddenly able to fit perfectly together were it once was awkward to be placed

Funny how a primary school associate can easily become a friend with time 

To know self is to know others

Copyright ©2011

 

--Love and Freedom

---Kerry-Ann Davis

24.11.11

Lost in the forest of himself

And there isn’t any beauty to explore there anymore

Only memories of emptiness in the presence of mourning trees those that never seem to brighten with morning

And pagan flowers that cant decipher through right and wrong, love and hate

And it’s hard not to hate

It’s hard not to hate when the rain doesn’t cleanse the pain anymore

Sole occupation and intention being to feed death to the already saturated forest trees

There’s no north star to guide one away from this perilous place

Nothing that gives proximity to ease or peace

There’s nothing that’s concordant with self unity and direction here

Only paths that lead to self destruction

……..He’s in need of some sort of conflagration to burn everything away

As drugs don't give him the high he needs anymore to get up up and away

Out of here, since he’s just so low

Arms suddenly immobile restricting him from embracing self

His heart doesn’t supply the love he needs for himself

 Sleep can’t heal the pain anymore

And death seems more appealing than life

….He’s in need of some sort of conflagration

Copyright ©2011

 

[clearly i'm horrible with deadlines, but i'll keep trying ;)]

 

--Love and Freedom

--Kerry-Ann Davis

(really love this poem)

November 20th

I love my two brethrens and the way they vibe to the pulse of their souls,

Pulsating them into purifying characters that we’ve been told could only exist within bible stories and fairy tales.

I love the way their vibe permeates the air,

And sprinkles droplets of positivity onto vessels standing nearby.

I love the way they hate each other out of love.

And I love the way their heartbeats sound louder than the war drums circulating the area.

I love the way their lips are never silent with truth.

And that their honesty isn’t always pretty.

I love how they allow their music to heal them.

And I love how they allow their music to heal others.

And I love how they provide us with buoyancy while we’re standing in an empty church yard with biases so thick and heavy you can smell it in the air and it weighs down your shoulders

I love the way they love the way they are

Untouched, simple and sacred… at least to a girl who sees them through lenses that have been wiped clean with realities

I love the way they love the way they are

I love my two brethrens

Copyright ©2011

 

--Love and Freedom

--Kerry-Ann Davis

November 18th

Sometimes you have to step outside of the confines of concrete walls to be able to write a poem.

Sometimes we need the scent of roses to remind our nostrils of how sweet breath can be.

Sometimes you need to see the blue sky in all its gargantuan-ity to remember that beauty can’t be amassed into a sole entity or identity.

Sometimes the rocks need to remind us of how to remain grounded.

Sometimes those rocks need to remind us that when we’re pushed around, we aren’t just rocks.

Sometimes chained puppies barking loudly, misbehaving, have to remind us that we weren’t created for chains,

Even though those whom we love and who claim to love us claim they’re only trying to protect us.

Sometimes we need to be reminded by the way the leaves fall off of trees that we aren’t meant to stay in one place forever.

Sometimes we need the honey bees and the way they suck on the nectar of the flowers to remind us that we need each other,

And sometimes we need them to remind us that all flowers aren’t good, despite their appearance.

Sometimes we need to see the trees and the way they dance to the evening wind and to the rhythm of the tweeting birds to remember that the world isn’t beautiful,

But that it can be if we tried to make it.

From time to time we need to see that sometimes even though the rain falls the sun still shines.

And, that’s inspiring.

That’s indeed inspiring.

Sometimes being inside of concrete walls just isn't that inspiring. 

Copyright ©2011

 

--Love and Freedom

--Kerry-Ann Davis

Thursday 17th November

She can no longer put her feelings into words

For they have moved past the ordinary violent ups and downs ups and downs of the waves

And into a place where the sea has calmed, giving peace that she hadn’t felt in a while

A veil has been lifted and her eyes are crying blood, all that she suppressed in those tight small veins that was her slavery

Her heart is overflowing with the purest water

She hears clearly now.

She’s standing, feet bare on the earth, and she’s beginning to feel again.

Herself, back inside of her self now and her body wants to scream the question “Where have you been?!” to her

But instead it welcomes her quietly and solemnly ignoring all her ignorance,

Because it is just thankful that she’s back.

She hugs herself, rocking back and forth, back and forth in introspection

She recognizes that she misunderstood so much and not so much that she was misunderstood.

She knows now that the world is not some grand fountain of beauty and of pretty

But it’s impossible for some souls to enter into a space and not flood that space with its light, righteousness,inspiration and freedom.

She drowned in that flood last night, the baptism was more sacred than anything she ever knew.

And she’s grateful that they took hold of her soul

Palms of truth real and raw

They’re guiding her to the path of freedom and when she gets there, she’ll figure out how to be free.

Copyright ©2011

--Love and Freedom

--Kerry-Ann Davis

One of the most beautiful videos I've seen in a while

--SELAH

Tuesday November 15th

Music can no longer match the feelings that are stirring within me

They’re too incorrect and too insufficient

My story is suddenly not synonymous with the everyday truths and lies

And it’s okay

I feel okay

My story wraps itself around me and its amazingly always warm there

Its cloth is impenetrable

These sheets make me whole

Copyright ©2011

 

--Love and Freedom

--Mandy

November 14th 2011

Hearts break easily with pain

But they also mend easily with light and love.

Sometimes it’s not okay to not be okay.

So when you notice the light, be sure to walk towards it and not away from it

Eyes adjusting,

Always remember that it’s okay to walk into love

Copyright ©2011

 

--Love and Freedom

--Mandy