Truth is my Compass, & Wisdom my Helm.

once you know, you cannot un-know. once you have seen, you can never un-see. once you have allowed yourself to feel, you are freed from silence; for the submergence of one's truth only births havoc within the self.

Unsacred

I fed a woman heart,
as a man grinded her mind

with him, she shared our meal;
never did she ask how it was cooked

nor did she admit she was in a kitchen,
because in him she wanted her home

“High-Functioning”

That’s what these medical professionals be calling me;
Like if I were any less I would’ve wedded death before puberty  

But I got a degree and copped me some cultural capital
I hide the wobble of my gait, muffle my stutter, but I battle

Cracked a 2nd floor window, had a conversation with the sun, and almost fell out;
Never violent, but I have intrusive thoughts that I swat like gnats, as I walkabout

I have an internal earthquake alert system that rivals that of Japan
Because can’t no one predict when my mind and body shift, or how long the span

I ain’t a neurotypical but I do assimilate, and now my truth is up for debate 
If we all had brain lesions, we’d appreciate that a single day has many seasons

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Russia, Our Frenemy

We stay playing dice,
As long as the game be nice

Why we acting like we don’t know;
For the world, we put on a show

To The Gods

I will be your parrot,
If you are my shepherd

Hold On To Your Dreams

Like a deep sea diver does their oxygen tank, or an astronaut does their suit, or a sky diver does their parachute. The very moment when you let go of the profound possibilities of infinity, you welcome the tiptoe stroll of despair to reside within you. It would behoove you to practice discernment when lusting after fantasies that you confuse for dreams—that do not serve your highest self; for they are holographs imitating and displacing the greatest truths you wish to manifest.

We are resisting ourselves into unmarked graves of psychic annihilation because we are unable to renounce our addiction to pride.

Zisa Aziza

Spirit Swag

be a woman who gives space before you ask for it;
a folk who sees through you and speaks to you

is that swerve of self that words can’t capture

put a spell on a poet—have her forget her mother tongue;
spirit swag be the iris, when soulful is mascara

Create borders for your mind and protect it, as though your thoughts were the last vestige of sovereignty on this planet.

Zisa Aziza

Hypnotic Rhetoric

Africans sold their own folk into slavery,
Citizens enlist in the army out of bravery

No matter the day, we chasing an economy;
The coin alters the colony and chronology

But the disharmony is a commodity

We now mythologize the continuity of our history,
Reframe the lens and alter the subtext for mockery

With such eager deliberation for falsification,
Who is entertained by this imperiled speculation? 

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Enchantment

The moon and I make love,
and birth seas

We tease the wind,
to beckon suns

Maya

I will neither egress, nor acquiesce
The precondition for contrition

I will transgress this distress,
For disillusion is a healthy obtrusion

If oration is my sole act of deviation;
Silence will confound, as words expound