Pills to Swallow

Wow! This is an amazing piece of text. Very important life lesson!!

drafts and spills by isaiah keaton

You can be the best person you can be for someone. You can devote your sacred time to polishing their mundane. You can save them from where the avalanches pelt down like falling ashes, rescue them from where the magma chases like jungle predators; but, you can’t make them forget the way the flash waves blur into headaches, the way the heat strokes at night demand vigilance in the dark, the way the polarizing bolts of anxiety struck a crack in their sculptured image. You cannot be their hero or their shield. The self-hate is already traced over their faded lines and there’s no way to make erasures out of their regret. “To make them happy:” your mind can fixate itself on that goal. Every decision you make, a calculated step towards making them smile and that still won’t make them happy. You may lye on the clouds where the…

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New Video!!! “The Reader”

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Hey all!!

I know it has been a while since I’ve updated this blog–I apologize! But I didn’t go anywhere! As many of you know, I am a college student, after all. This semester has been very busy. Therefore, I was not able to update this platform. Nonetheless, I still update my Instagram page weekly. So definitely check out: https://www.instagram.com/sircharlesthepoet/ to see my new works!

Anyways, I came here to let you all know that I’VE POSTED A NEW VIDEO ON MY YOUTUBE PAGE!!! As You know, I got the great opportunity to perform at a few poetry events over the winter break (how did you spend YOUR Christmas?). I posted one of the videos “The Reader” on my YouTube page, and it is linked below. Please check it out! Also, please let me know what you think!!!

Thank you very much!!! I love you guys!!!!!

 

First Featured Event!

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Hey all!

It is with nothing but excitement, honor and great pleasure that I am saying to you: I WILL BE FEATURING AT MY FIRST POETRY EVENT!!!

The lovely people at Open Mic Renegades have invited me to be a featured poet at their event on January 11th, 2019! I always wanted to be a featured poet, but I never ever saw it happening so soon. Therefore this is a pretty meaningful opportunity for me!

For the event, I’ve prepared some of my favorite (and best) works–some about mass shootings, sexual assault and cultural appropriation. The most amazing thing about these pieces is that I’ve never publicized them before, so can I hear a, “NEW SHIITTT!!!”???

It would mean the entire world to me it you, reading this right now, could come the my first poetry event. And please if you will be in the New York City area, I really encourage you to come to the event, and bring some friends along. I will put all the information that you need below. Thank you very much for the support that I have received from you all, and I hope to see you there!

What: Featured poetry event with Open Mic Renegades

Where: Flower Power Coffee House NYC: 64-02 Myrtle Ave, Ridgewood, NY 11385

When: January 11th, 2019, 7:30 pm

Price: Free.99

 

Jingle Bell

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Sand not born of land
Dust suspend without trust
Cause
Snow might have overran the wind
Or the wind has frozen to powder

Clouds blow
Clouds wave
Knaves dancing
Dances of the saved
The wind sings earnest lullabies

Winter is here
A wonderland
In the air.
The aches can mend
A few tears to spare.
Can’t you hear? The jingles are near.

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

Mushroom

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As I settle into adulthood, I am realizing that I have less room to make mistakes. I am also realizing that instead of living in fear, I should have been more open to making mistakes, while taking as many risks as possible, when I was younger. Therefore, I wrote this poem to express my sentiments towards this realization. Thank you for watching and please comment your thoughts!

Spirit of the River

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Gather on the riverside,
The sand-less seashore
Escaping and rolling your fears away

Gather on the riverside,
And sit on the rocks.
Like a child sitting on the lap of her father;
His mother
“What’s your biggest fear?”
Hisses the Spirit of the River

I want to be remembered.
Like the mountain remembers every footstep along its spine
So I’m afraid.
That the wind will arrive, brush away the prints;
That humans,
Numerous as the rocks on a mountain
Will forget my effect.

The Absence

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Oh, how noise-free
Are the days of annoyance free

My hair no longer itches loudly
Like chewing sugar cane hungrily

The flies no longer have marching bands as they fly up.
Oh! Would you just shut up?!

The car engines no longer have furious discussions
As people in the city find themselves in the same situations

The trumpet is no longer capable of penetrating house walls
Like the screeching of teenagers after seeing sales in malls

The pillows are no longer broken in half like bread
And squeezed on ears like masks around your head

No more aggravating noises and ears claps shut.
Oh bless the day, when noise can just disappear.

IG: Sircharlesthepoet

Above the River

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Don’t listen to music when on the train.
You’ll find different conversations
Between the rails and humans
Or the silent angers,
Slight annoyance by others
That never escape the heart
Until the train escapes the tunnel
And light rushes in through the window,
Giving the rails much reasons to scandal
Rosetta Stone couldn’t understand them.
But they understood us
Leading our way through the serio-us
Escaping the hole of shadows with glee
Above rivers imitating the sea.
Then anger calms down to a blissful cheer
With the river humming, “Home is near”

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

Common Beauty

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In perfect worlds of
Imperfect beings,
Explanations of common beauty
Is long lost
To the subconscious.
So the shape and sizes
Are taped as prizes.

Nature, at times,
Sneaks in,
Tricks sin,
Seeks through vein
Then, attraction is found
In the colors. Their brightness
In the unexplainable. Its art
In the different. Its authenticity

In a world of blinds crossing skies,
And the limped crossing rivers,
Very few take the time.
To see <
Converse ’till it’s late;

Ask clouds of their beauty:
Free falling; filling rivers

But those who do
Are blessed
With a third eye. So skin,
No longer,
Holds pockets-full of lust
It holds beauty: something to map the lost.

Clothes are no longer framed by Finance
To honor chance,
But are
Intertwined simply
Inter the simplicity
Of none other than art—commonly viewed as beauty.

@sircharlesthepoet