so you can relate
No one said you’re immortal.
Such beliefs grow from within,
clouding reason
to stretch you thin
to a point where in the rain,
October makes cocktails with your tears
‘Help me please
I can’t do it alone’
a mistake to believe so in the first place,
And such is your shame.
Good luck relying on self – sufficient sources
and gathering your frame when you fall.
For pride will sprout from perceived immortality
casting you down in vain,
appeasing walls.
Clichés are annoying and cheesy, but no one has died from hearing such truths.
I place these phrases in the same category:
– Self-belief
– Hard work
– Team work
They are tiring, cliché topics of motivation. However, clichés are just the common denominators of thought and discovery. Despite going through various experiences, people have arrived at the same conclusions; as a result, these conclusions have become annoying clichés. Yet, they mean something.
Yes, sometimes it’s good to go against the grain and do your own thing, avoiding clichés as best as you can.
However, as it says in Proverbs 12:15, it’s the wise that listen to counsel. And counsel from credible sources often suggests that you should believe in yourself, work hard and embrace team work.
Let’s try and explore the following:
“Self-belief is the only belief.”
Sometimes you don’t believe in yourself because you think that you aren’t good enough; in this moment, you don’t have the skills or capabilities that make what you do worth believing in.
But you want to believe in yourself. And when you become good enough, it will be easy to do so. So, you just have to make yourself good enough.
This will happen when you work hard on what you feel like you aren’t completely capable of right now. As you do so, you will get better at what you do and the self-belief concerning your capabilities will grow.
Hard work is the key to self-belief.
“No growth comes from the comfort zone.”
We fail to work hard because we fear pain and discomfort. Yet we need to seek our capabilities in the realm of discomfort:
Putting your back into your craft is painful, but ultimately worth it as you break past the glass ceiling that you have created for yourself in the vein of laziness and lack of effort.
This is the kind of pain you bounce back from, like giving birth. As you look at the fruit of your labour, the pain becomes worth it.
In relation to self-belief, you work hard in order to become so good at your craft, that your self-belief becomes irrefutable.
“Team work makes the dream work.”
You can perfect your craft with your own abilities, and often in conjunction with the abilities of others. As you work hard as a team, your collective self-belief blooms: Everybody eats.
Shared responsibility = net growth. We all get a slice and with hard work and focus, this won’t take away from the value of your own endeavours.
Clichés are annoying and cheesy, but no one has died from hearing such truths. Work towards self-belief as an individual, and with the help of others. There is great value in the undeniability of capability.
Hypocrisy is a weed
inspiring fingers
to point at flaws
and cast stones at our form.
thanks to stress
we wrestle to reason
so dead and gone weeds
return with aggression
“Pay attention to how I feel.”
There’s a reason why I reappear
and you bloom on top of me,
tangling ourselves as hypocritical gardens
“You should understand my pain.”
And The Butterfly Effect,
the Bane of our existence
succeeds in making things harder,
thorns sharper and stalks stronger.
Angry tears water abandoned plants
growing in our gardens:
“I wish we understood each other,
and withheld the blame.”
We are creation after all.
Truly that patience is deep inside
below the root of those weeds
And if only we reached down,
spiteful plants would wither away.
I hope they care when I’m vulnerable
with my 100% heart
As it gave me strength,
remembering that I have you
I’m coming out of something bad
where I took the blame.
though I was half right doing so,
I found it wasn’t all me
It’s taken two weeks to find me again
where I wasn’t immune to truth,
which appeared in unfiltered glory
making me so weak
and I often birth a desire to grow
yet struggle to fulfil it
But I said so:
I’m roots before shoots
And here underground
I sense a finish line
So there’s no timer on this,
just patience and stillness.
And now that I’m being still,
I hear you through myself.
It’s true that it Must Be Nice
to want and receive
and try and succeed-
it Must Be Nice to be happy,
and to be content.
good to be in love
and for once afford life’s rent.
So strength to myself in cramped time frames,
restlessness and absent priority:
my incompletion
and unfulfilled potential.
and strength to my family above the equator
Children of oil, tears and palm wine.
Strength to God who neither sleeps nor slumbers
and knows he’s my base although my heart wanders,
Yes, it Must Be Nice.
but this beckons desire, not reality
Because life grants a vacuum
and nothing more,
“Must Be Nice” is my vanity
and God is my cure.
When heartbeats sway still bodies to sleep,
You follow the wind and fall down with the rain.
In a search for love, life gifts you pain-
Time has no choice in its passing.
So patience lies deep inside, I know it’s in you
Here I move to discordant rhythm.
As I’m pretty for a black girl
I pride in leaning on walls,
striding down strips,
defying given scripts,
a part of me, not all.
Three shades above don’t need physique
but what is seen first-hand,
While commending the way I speak
molasses no match with sand.
He doesn’t like dark gals,
Despite his palms’ flip side
He should know he’s in denial –
what does the avenue hear of me?
How much better should I be, more?
to show splendour in the dark,
An open letter from my heart I pour
“Pretty and, not pretty for?”
Chameleon street questioned
beauties like me,
Pure teachings from Def and Kweli
Not particularly light,
but I move so that’s alright
–
She’s American fine.
I, UK average,
Fenty 498
But I like what’s on my plate,
so I’ll make it plain:
Here lies no sob story
we know how it goes
I’m more than Nubia
it’s something that shows
I brought myself up right,
a scene of innate beauty
So I found that it’s my duty,
to waltz dark avenues, full flight.
I live everywhere,
I’m not dead yet.
But when I am,
I won’t be held down
My essence will escape
and though my body will remain
all that matters
would have slipped away.
I’m glad.
It just means,
that I was born to move
and even after life,
I’ll have to go.
Come and pin me down,
I’ll smile when you try.
If you fixed it last night
You wouldn’t have to this morning,
if you spoke to who you were meant to
and read what you should have.
You’d be free if you said things aloud
So now it’s here, you lack solution.
Set for 8, it’s half 11 and you lie down
studying the ceiling,
deep inside space
Listless as said before,
Morning blues
You’ll find a way out:
Turn to your phone
Scroll here and there
Plan your day,
Look at what you should have done
Morning blues.
Some Variables 