She wanted to protect my heart from the world
Saying no one deserved it
And maybe I liked it
It felt weird being guarded.
Protect my heart from the reality
Because I was never that type
But I shattered my heart before a
Falling for the wrong side
So to protect it
She said ‘with my life’.
I never want to be afraid to love
So protect my heart from the universe
Safe with the stars
She healed the scars
She held on
Wherever my heart went, she wasn’t too far.
Protect my heart
More from this poet.
Make sure to visit my Instagram page for more photos. @librajamy
More from this writer here.
Couple years ago I decided to find writers who were interested in writing to my photos. Either I choose a piece from them for inspiration or they would right a personal piece. Years later and I’ve still be able to find some great writers to connect with. Most of them, I’ve never met.
This writer is no stranger to the blog. Make sure to check him out on IG @remythewriter
Read Cracks here
Read You and I here
Photo Speaks Photography started in early 2014. Now I have a wonderful team of artist. Photo Speaks handles all your photography needs and Speaks Visuals Production will create the visual you need.
This is what happens when a poet meets a photographer and they connect on every level you can think of. This short film is a prequel to a mini series we will be airing January of 2018.
Each month until January, we will post a new short film. Subscribe to our YouTube channel to view more videos from various artist.
We appreciate all the love and support.
They say a storm is coming…
That soon the sea will open the doors of its eyes to tears and the oceans the windows of its mouth to wail because its home has been plundered.
They say a storm is coming… That tomorrow I will wake up in the remnant of what my kind has done to our world and I will hear the foot steps of rivers running to safety.
They say a storm is coming… That I should pack hope in a duffle bag and my dreams, well, my dreams I should leave for the storm to wash clean.
They say a storm is coming, like I wasn’t here all along.
Written by: Adewumi Godwin.
The room was completely silent.
I hadn’t even noticed
I was having over a 100 conversations with no one.
Travelling to many places without leaving this chair.
10 people in the room and no one spoke a word.
It was quiet
but so loud.
Or at least in my head
it was louder than 808 beats
I’ve been having a full conversation with your emotions
while you sat having your own thoughts.
Where am I?
I don’t even know anymore.
Do you care?
Of course not.
But you’ll say you do.
To make me feel better.
It’s ok though.
I’m already in a new place.
Creating a new story.
Pushing my demons further into the darkness.
I like to get lost.
I’ll find my way back.
I usually do.
Then I’ll create another story
Share it with the next person
with a listening ear.
Fearing you will never hear these words I speak
For each story created comes from demons we share.
What corroded your mind and made you stop thinking about me?
What consumed your heart and took away your reasoning that made you forget to reach out for help when you needed it?
You’re not without hope,
but your bones will rot inside-out with discontent.
Fix your gaze on my love for you,
let me be the meditation of your heart.
I know where you need to be and I will take you there.
Did you know beard gangs don’t use guns!? I mean, their greatest weapon is a bottle of coconut oil, the content not the container, God forbid the bottle breaks or they break it in an argument over texture, tears will flow and mucous even more –
little wonder this spineless generation wants in on all the inactions.
Real men shave, real men face the blade and conquer.
Have you ever had a hot towel shave?, bearing your future in the hands of a conflicted soul, knowing that a moment of insanity could be your last.
So what if he had crack for lunch, real men surrender their lives to the blade and the wielder alike.
These days we no longer subscribe to dick measuring contests, show me your beard and I’ll tell you who you are- a bitch. A privileged bitch with the genetic make up of a beast.
Call it bitterness, call it rage;
call it jealousy if you will-
because you can grow a fuller beard than I can doesn’t make you superior or more of a ‘man’.
Truth is I no longer know what makes a man and I don’t think I ever did.
When will I ever be enough to be called a man?,
Apparently age doesn’t count, teenagers are ‘manning’ up these days. Again I don’t know what makes a man, penis enlargement perhaps or those who the heavens smiled on like me, I simply need to use it more; to remind myself what it feels like to be a man. Maybe I was born as one. We all know a man, why not tell me, what makes them so.