Monday, June 4, 2018

she's pretty for a lightskin

"except She is dark. wrong color but the right shade makes Her stand apart. Her beauty a question mark. beholder, why take Her being as lark?! what isn't funny is how much She has been cast down for Her bark. left to answer as to why Her skin in social statuses is stark. or the definition of what is pretty from the start. She is despised inspite Her ability to allow the other woman an opportunity at creating a spark. a chance at being the subject of beauty, an attachment of perpetuity in every man's heart. at this, i know She laughs. comedy at the sight of men whenever a light-skinned harps. she often gathers them like noah's arks. her life an amusement park. good to look at but engineered to be a shark. if layers were to be peeled like an onion, it is her getting darker while the Juicier Berry remains intact. she is pretty, but make sure the heart is not dark."

mitishamba ~ Berry sweet
"dark green"

Monday, June 5, 2017

"in the name of the farmer.....

......the oxen and the whole field filled with grains grown as its ability dictates. means there's a path. let the animal prove its able. no use to cane or alter what's stable without graves as decals. never seen a wild cemetery. nor do these creatures ponder until they are senile. creators free to feel dirt mold plants according to the journey water takes to be tapped. self-contained, these beings strut partly because it is they a tree loves. not those in a hurry to give the heart logic. it is akin putting a period where a comma's got it. stopping an animal living life full to give it a piece of what's primarily halved. your thoughts. or anything anyone's throat sees. words. uniform sound constructed. however, an ox doesn't need an opinion to confirm its initials. just food. not word. it already has its hide. beautiful, bound instructions. freedom of silence. only displaying it's journey with spine. and not with counting down. simply a kiss, chew, a bite of its ground. this then leaves those reading at a distance as far as leaves are to their breading. roots. but an ox keeps touch of what it surrounds. no thoughts of bounds. endless measures of it's existence in the absence of? what is write. daily, a double conscious jeopardizes the game of life. unlike the ox, most time is ate though all are stuck in a hungry state of wanting what at first failed. considered bait. a clever contraption allowing one to become oblivious of their gait. stepping to the written command keeps none walking. talking is the only spate that maintains these pathless landscapes. no direction. freedom of speak has most saying but afraid to place faith in their own mouths. saying it without their chest. Hart's shouts. an ox needs not be written for to plow.'

mitishamba ~ a wild word
'the green animal'

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

God, the lonely ONE

i don't know you God, but as i write this, you do.

'so She sat there. alone. thoughts. adorn. surroundings so beautiful that She decided to keep a record of things. a store. a dire need for space. what for? She just couldn't understand where to lay all of what the earth bore. bare existence yet full to the brim. fully filled but empty of a seal. endless. nothing trim. rather, disorder. a concortion lacking nothing but a theme. even in wind She found a rhythm. a scheme. ventured outside Herself to hear what was within. faced Her desires, the sight of what went beyond eat. food. taking all pleasures in. aquisition, though it required the first sin. a bite that made time the bullet of magic. as constant as earth's spins. She stepped out and saw in, but all She could do is speak. say of outcomes. upcoming highs and pits. She is the first to contact life as it hills. pronounced bellies telling of pregnancies succumbed with ease. so who's the lead?! ergo, the word, the written word is Eve's.'

mitishamba ~ She talks too much, in writing
'follow my green'