society of alcoholics
accustomed to numbness
we fear our genuine entity
seeking boldness
at the bottom of the bottle
seeking elevation
we are tired of rock bottom
bottled emotions flow
we go from liquor to lick her
society of alcoholics
accustomed to pain
we fear brutal honesty
seeking shelter
within the walls of a shot glass
seeking forgiveness
we are tired of the past
that seaps into the presents
so we sip to the future
society of alcoholics
unaccustomed to self
Our obsession with vanity is insanity
Our self perception, distorted
Designer brands, can’t afford it
Chasing the dragon of self-acceptance
Hoping not to get incinerated by the harsh reality
Material possessions ain’t worth shit
If your soul is a stranger
Victoria can’t keep your deep dark secrets and
Jacob can’t erase those marks on your arm
This pain you feel in your core, Michael can’t remedy
Your goal is to lose ’bout 10 so you can rock Louboutins.
Our obsession with vanity is insanity
Put your soul on a record and play it for me
Let me listen to your essence
Every vibration a portal to your being
Allow me the privilege to hear you
So put your soul on a record and let it play
I’m lonely whenever you are around
You draw out my alone
Your presence seems mandated
Done to appease society’s expectations
We paint masterpieces of happiness
Every stroke, a stroke to my solitude
Clotting, suffocating my solace
I’m lonely whenever you are around
If a woman hates another woman, she hates herself
If a woman criticizes another woman, she criticizes herself
Now imagine…
If a women uplifts another woman, she uplifts herself
If a woman praises another woman, she praises herself
Imagine now…
Self, Sisterhood and Solidarity
This short poem came about from a post I saw on tumblr and this part stood out to me: “Women love to tear each other down… correction, insecure women love to tear other women down. “
By: Phalande Jean
I want to briefly talk about the twilight zone, that space in your life where you keep in contact with your ex. In this zone you are at a standstill, because you are neither moving back nor are you moving forward. When they are not around you gather the courage to proclaim your singleness and exclaim that you are moving on. Then they show up at your house, pop up at your job or you run into each other at an event. The sight of them leaves your mouth dry, your knees buckle, your heart crumbles and all the good times replay like a mental movie reel. Those affirmations that you have moved on become a lie you told yourself in a moment of presumed strength. How can you move on when your heart says otherwise? These are the casualties of the heart.
There becomes this mass destruction of self esteem when you have been broken up for several years and you haven’t been able to meet someone new, fall in love or simply date. The obliteration of your womanhood, your manhood because you no longer have someone to reaffirm every single day that you are appreciated, needed, wanted. An attempt to date becomes a game of comparison. That ex becomes the blueprint for your next catch and you cannot control that. What if that’s the only person that you have ever been in a relationship with? The only love you’ve known, who knew what to do. Made it do what it do. These are the casualties of the heart.
Let’s talk about that ache that no Advil can relieve, only the touch of your previous soul tie can begin to alleviate the ailment of this brokenhearted-ness. How easy it is to remember how they injected your life with so much joy, massaged out the knots of negativity and loneliness. They were the well that seemed like it would never run dry. Except presently you are parched for touch, for attention, for love. This twilight zone is a dessert of heated emotions, and cold nights of you alone with your thoughts. Your ex randomly texts, calls or sends flowers and you induce a mirage of a well that will quench your thirst. What if the consideration to allow your ex back into your life is only a mirage…a beautiful, beautiful mirage? These are the casualties of the heart.
I want that mind blown, soul ties kinda love
Nibbling, caressing, possessing kindly love
Blood rushing, skin flushing, Physiologically insync
His sax hums my melodies, she sings
Reverb on my genitals, reverse to that ecstasy
Rehearse the tender strokes, rebirth of my sensuality
“Writing captures the essence of the present just as a photograph captures the quiddity of a moment.”
-phalasophy
By: Phalande Jean
In every facet of society when there seems to be a progression toward positivity and acceptance, we are thrown off course by the need to categorize. A prime example is the natural hair movement. It started out as women of color defying standards of oppression in the beauty industry and the media. Soon it turned out to be a way of dividing women into boxes that identified with a certain curl pattern. The looser the curl the better your hair was, hence the term good hair.
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“You spend time trying to get others to like you
but do you even like yourself?”
-phalasophy
phalasophy 