My lips are not red, they do not scream for attention. But as you read on, you’ll find that they hold a power greater than any physical beauty. They hold the power to trap your mind, to captivate your thoughts, and to leave you lost in the words I weave. I am not perfect; I do not hold the beauty that society deems desirable. But through my words, I am able to paint a picture of myself that is unique and captivating. I am a woman, different in so many ways, and it is through my writing that I am … Continue reading My lips …

Tell me a story, whispered in the night, of dreams that dance in the shadows, of thoughts that teeter on the edge of sanity. A tale that is partly obscene, raw, and unfiltered, naked, and unafraid. A story of desire, dwindling like a flame in the wind, meant to dissipate into the ether. A love that is eternally brewing, constantly present, wondering when it will ignite, pondering how it will consume. Questions unanswered, seeking themselves in the depths of the soul. Uncertain of heaven and hell, existing inside of all that is, finding wholeness in the fractals of life. A … Continue reading Let it be poetry…

As pessoas podem ser lembradas como santas, mas nem todas merecem esse título. Rui Barbosa, o grande jurista brasileiro, sabiamente nos lembra que até mesmo os canalhas envelhecem. A passagem do tempo não transforma automaticamente alguém em um ser venerável, pois a verdadeira essência de uma pessoa não está simplesmente em sua longevidade, mas sim em suas ações, em seu caráter, em sua contribuição para o mundo. É fácil idealizar aqueles que partiram, pintando-os com pinceladas douradas de perfeição. No entanto, a realidade é que a vida é complexa e as pessoas são imperfeitas. Até mesmo aqueles que são lembrados … Continue reading Os canalhas também envelhecem

In the tender years of youth, I recall the sting of humiliation, a feeling etched deep within my soul. Words, actions, and circumstances conspired to knock me down, leaving me feeling small and insignificant. It seems that children, in their innocence, are constantly subjected to the sharp edges of humiliation in their interactions with adults and with each other. A relentless cycle of hurt and shame seems to permeate our formative years, leaving scars that linger long into adulthood. The weight of humiliation, both given and received, seems to shape our very existence. The journey of education, meant to enlighten … Continue reading Respect …

The concept of human nature has been a subject of philosophical and cultural debate for centuries. One prevailing notion in capitalist societies is the belief that humans are inherently greedy and self-centered, a belief that has been used to justify the pursuit of individual wealth and success. This idea bears a striking resemblance to the feudal Christian construction of humans as inherently sinful, which was used to enforce moral and religious authority in medieval Europe. The capitalist cultural construction of human greed and self-centeredness serves to justify the pursuit of profit and material wealth at the expense of others. It … Continue reading Hot take …

At first, I thought I’d lost my own body, felt it slip with the wind. It was as if I had become untethered, adrift in the currents of uncertainty. But then, I began to practice the faith of bare trees, standing tall and unyielding in the face of adversity. I learned to embrace the stillness of winter, to find solace in the quiet solitude of an empty cathedral. I began to see the nights as dreams, each one a canvas painted in different shades of green, a symphony of hues that danced in the moonlight. I found beauty in the … Continue reading Dreamer

What is this world that stretches beyond our reach? It is a tapestry of dreams woven into the fabric of time, a symphony of possibilities echoing in the vast expanse of the universe. It is the unknown, the unexplored, and the infinite potential that eludes our grasp. What are these words that forever will never speak? They are the whispers of regret, the echoes of unsaid confessions, and the silent screams of unspoken truths. They are the stories left untold, the emotions left unexpressed, and the language of the heart that remains imprisoned within our souls. What are these places … Continue reading Beyond the horizon …

I am a ghost, draped in the beauty of my unseen qualities Invisible to the eyes of the living, but no less beautiful I wander through the fine mists and dense fog seeking out others like me, searching for connection in this ethereal realm. The living is bound by what they can touch, taste, smell, and hear but we, the ghosts, are free from such constraints we find beauty in the intangible, in the unseen and the unspoken We long for connection, for the tender touch of another ghost. But the living fear what they cannot see and so I … Continue reading I am a ghost …

Skin so dark, oh geez! A canvas of rich hues that tell a story of resilience and strength. In the face of those who seek to dim its radiance, it stands proud, a testament to the beauty of diversity. Amidst the whispers of inadequacy, there are those who shout “Hallelujah!” A chorus of voices that celebrate the depth of your melanin, the richness of your heritage. Be proud of your skin color, they say. Let it be a banner of defiance, a symbol of unapologetic self-love. Embrace the beauty of your roots, the history etched in every shade, and wear … Continue reading Skin so dark, oh geez! Hallelujah!

The raindrops were like a symphony, drumming on the window with a steady beat, as if trying to keep time with the clock, tick-ticking away, never missing a beat. Time is a fickle friend, passing quickly when we want it to slow, dragging on when we wish it would fly, testing the limits of our endurance. But amidst the rain and the ticking clock, there was a song that played, a melody that spoke to the heart, making the beauty and sadness almost interchangeable. For in the midst of sorrow, there is often a beauty that shines through, a glimmer … Continue reading Tick-ticking …