This is to all the all-nighters and the late nights spent “studying”.
In a land full of chameleons
Will you stay true to your color?
Release your own vibrations
Turn your head, follow your path
Quiet your mind, follow your heart
Are you willing to repeat the art?
But flick your brush slightly
Give your stroke a different meaning
Like the one on the ceiling?
In a world filled with anchors to drown you
Close ties to friends and family restraining your will
Will your adventurous mind be bold?
When success is whispered in the dead wind of the night
And failures echoing from mountaintops, on the back of eagles
Where do we find courage?
How does a spark burst into a blaze of glory?
Such story, the sun seldom tells.
As the goal approaches clarity, the path pursues alignment.
But as your path reaches alignment,
Comrades stray with the world
Into the woods; the gleaming fields of proven promises and fortune-telling.
So, are you lost?
Or have you found a calling among responses gone astray?
Have you found your way? When all around are losing theirs?
Hold on to your glimpse of light
Strive with every effort.
Cause realities might change, but your Destiny Remains.
I mean, I did drop out of engineering school
So maybe something changed. Although, the laws of the universe are constant.
This field of darkness that sometimes escapes
From these small spots floating on your face
Are the reasons for the tears.
Darkness in this universe is taking over.
Starting with your feature
But, darling, I know, these lights
Do a rather fine job of drying tears
So, when you spread the glowing blade of your cheeks,
Beam, gloss reflecting off of your lips,
You defy science. Rip black holes apart!
Show that the laws of science are not constant;
Rules and limitations are not constant.
You can read the full poem through the link below by the way!
Every day, I give up on my dream.
So I tell myself, I shall
Try again tomorrow.
But tomorrow comes. Tomorrow always comes,
And, that’s the problem.
Every day, I give up on my dreams.
My dedication flares; my ambition enlightens; my legs ripen
And, into another world, I depart.
But this path. This path only prolongs
As I can no longer hear the song
Of my Will.
So, by the end of the day, I give up on my dream.
I can no longer spin that wheel.
Then a day passes,
Regret buries itself in me,
I peel myself off of the battlefield,
I refrain from thinking of my shameful past
But regret already buried itself in me!
And after day after day comes and goes,
Regret is reincarnated in me
Because—you see—I try, I try
I really do. But somehow
Every day, I give up on my dreams.
Some say it’s human.
Some say it’s okay.
But, I think that’s the problem.
I found this picture in a dark hole on the interwebs. If it’s yours and you’re hurt that I’m using it, let a poet know.
I’m starting to realize that confessing your love is more selfish than effective.
We see someone. We like someone.
Then give them our feelings to deal with.
And then what? What are they to do with it? What do you expect?
Imagine waking up, fresh and well experienced in your young age.
Then, upon stepping outside to in-take a breath of fresh air, you find a baby.
In waiting. In a basket. On your doorstep. What then?
Foster care? Cops? I guess I’m a parent now? Hit up grandma or mom?
It’s not so simple.
The other day, I talked to a lady who is from Haiti.
Being Haitian in foreign land, we shared what glued us together.
She told me I left my country too early. So I don’t know anything
I feel cheated each time I remember
Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’ve given up my country for foreign soil
But, how can I lose something that I never had?
Lately, I’ve been struggling and trying to, once again, have a firm grip on my culture–starting with the language. So I’ve been listening to a lot of Haitian music and reaching out to friends and family back in Haiti to practice my Creole. The language has changed a lot, but the worst part is I’ll never know how much it has changed because I was only 11 when I left the country. It’s mighty young and I was pretty oblivious to most.
If any of you are into learning about cultures or are multilingual, you would understand that learning a language is not just about learning grammar rules. It goes as far as having knowledge of the culture, to learn the language. In Haitian Creole, very strong emphasis is put on knowing the culture to fully get the language.
At 11 years old, I barely knew the culture. Yeah, I spoke the language–as far as what was required of me is concerned–and I had lived in the country for 11 years, but as you get older, more sophisticated thoughts and eloquence are required. And I will argue that it’s only then you really get a language.
After being in the states, scrambling to figure out this lifestyle and fit in, for the past 11 years, sometimes it feels like I’m losing my culture. Starting with the language.
Tonight, like a regular Monday night, I pulled up at the Bowery Poetry Club to warm my soul with some Poetry. While observing the crowd, I saw her. Looking at her, I thought, “ummmmmm (x1000000), she looks familiar 🤔” then, “ummmmmm, she looks like Rupi Kaur”. I pondered on it some more then concluded, “naahhh, Rupi Kaur is taller than that”…but man, moments passed and I just couldn’t shake the thought. So I turned to the Bowery Poetry interns and manager, and whispered, “y’all, is that Rupi Kaur???” Confused, the manager responds, “nnoooo” with certainty. I replied, “but she looks sssssooooo much like Rupi!!” At that, he said, “well, go ask her, man”. So, collecting all the courage and strength in my youthful body, I pulled up on her with a, “hey, you look A LOT like Rupi Kaur”. At that, she replied with a smile, “I am Rupi Kaur.” I froze. Then exploded with, “omg! You’re Rupi Kaur!!! Wait, YOU DO KNOW YOU’RE RUPI KAUR, RIGHT?? Like you’re famous-famous!” Then I blabbered and fanboyed some more, and we took a quadrillion selfies!
Tis was a good night, y’all.
To start off, no poetry today! (tears) (or maybe you might get a little something-something later (wink! wink!) but we’ll have to see!!! Nonetheless, I wanted to make an announcement (which I have no clue why I did not make it earlier). As the title reads, I do a live poetry reading EVERY WEDNESDAY!
“Well, Mr. Sircharlesthepoet,” you might say, “where does such live reading take place?”
If you’ve been keeping up with my posts, then you might have noticed that I end each post with “Sircharlesthepoet“–a hyperlink that takes you directly to my Instagram page! That page is where I do the live readings. That Instagram page (hint-hint: check it out and even follow me, if you have an account!) is where I do the live readings. I don’t know if WordPress has a feature like so, but Instagram has a feature that allows you to do a live video. I use that feature to have a weekly poetry reading.
So every week, I find a poem and read it on Instagram live, where followers from all over the world can swing by and watch me read! Although the live reading is on Wednesday, the time of it during that day often changes, due to the nature of my job and way of life. Nonetheless, I try to do the readings in the afternoon (when everyone is home from work/school). Additionally, on the day before or as the day progresses, I post updates on my Instagram story of when the live reading will happen. To summarize, if any of you have an Instagram page, FOLLOW ME! I post poetry on there and I am very active on there as well. And as a bonus to following me, you will be able to join me in my weekly live readings!
Thank you all very much for all of the support that I have been getting so far! And I hope to see you in next week’s live poetry reading!
the sun is an opinion, the world is just a myth, the heart’s a phony tower, a phantom monolith — the day is an illusion, the night, a vain ideal — the hope of dawn is empty, but the ache is real
They say one person can’t ACTUALLY move mountains,
But that smile…
Gosh! That smile could beam n’ blow a hole
Through a mountain
So tell me, ain’t that the same thing?
What’s the point of moving a mountain when a laughter
Can show your path through it?
That smile transforms your face into a body–a beauty
That is ready to rise to be heavenly
A form that’s so fitting;
A look so natural.
Makes me wonder if your sad face be a mask?