Sight the pain is unbearable

I want to stop and I will

There's no glow and no thrill

My emptiness calls

And I answer in return

It's my time and I'm just DONE

It was nice and fun

But let me be just one

No smiles in my rain

No feelings to my pain

So let me spit it out

That clump of flesh that beats

I'm not the first but it's a feat

I'm given my all and my best

But I've failed this time

Now let isolation be my rest

By: The Soulistic Chyld

The only son of a Man from June

The 3rd for a Queen gone too soon

Blessed with 6 siblings

My story is a hard thing

13 is my number, yes the left I bring

I've lost a lot but I've found more

Thank God I'm almost 3 plus 0 yeh score

My mind is my place of refuge

Thoughts and deeds can be misused

I'm a yute that was never abused

A pencil in my hand that's how I cruise

Crossover and your left with no clue

Music in my veins

A hole in my heart left by a stain

I'm the happiest walking in the down pouring rain

A son of West yes I left then I came

Campbell to the last breathe

Remember my name

By: The Soulistic Chyld

No degrees but a doc in his own right

No CAPEs but he's my Hero

No CXCs but he's tired of overseas

Let me put it into context

My number one fan lol no contest

We aint father and son

You see him and you see me, we are ONE

I don't say I love you

Cause you know I do

Won't wait until 6 ft by 6 ft to tell you

There's no me without you

We aint family you grew us like a crew

Your musical skills are so sick it has the flu

You aged but your SWAG stays true

My role model and the man I follow

The biggest heart pops you neva shallow

By: The Soulistic Chyld

My favorite memory at the movie theater happened when I was still in elementary school; I had gone out with my childhood friends - a band of brothers, four out of six back then - to see some PG rated film popular that summer. Per custom, we all wore big, bulky jackets despite the heat in order to better hide our contraband candy and soda bottles to sneak past the attendants.

What I did not know was that the second youngest of the brothers (maybe six at the time? the rest of us varied between seven and nine) had decided to smuggle his own popcorn...and had decided the original bag of kernels fit better in his pocket than the final popped product.

His older brothers, of course, had watched him pack without saying a word or even questioning exactly how he intended to pop the kernels once he got them inside. As we walked towards our screen in the megaplex, the eldest brother very carefully tripped the poor lad. As he fell his bag of kernels burst open, spilling un-popped pieces of smuggled popcorn everywhere.

The attendant quickly came over and caught us all red handed, sending us back out to our parent's car to discard our illegal booty including the remaining handfuls of kernels left in the bag. The mother of my friends simply shook her head; with that many sons she'd seen it all at this point.

At least the elder brothers lost their loot too after betraying their own.

I learned a valuable lesson that day.

---

If you go to the drive-in they don't care if you smuggle snacks in your car - or unticketed bodies in your trunk.

‘You’ve got to tell the police.’ I said.

Nathan looked at me in a way that reminded me so much of his father I caught my breath. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

‘No. Mum. I’m black,’ he said slowly, ‘no.’

‘Honey–’

‘Shut up, Mum.’

We were quiet. Nathan’s father and I had fought about race: my misunderstanding of ethnic inequality. At the start of our relationship, I was convinced I did understand, and repeatedly refused to see the battles I never had to fight. When we went away on holiday, I would get angry with him for being lazy. When he found it difficult to work the bureaucratic system, I blamed him for his inefficiency. He had to explain to me that when he didn’t join in on hikes with my white friends, it was because he was sick of people crossing the street when they saw him. He had to explain to me that when he went into the same admin offices as I did, the staff turned him away at the first missing document.

I looked back at Nathan.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘You never understand.’

‘Why don’t I try phoning the school? Miss Barns really likes you.’

‘Miss Barns?’

‘Yes, Miss Barns,’

‘Yeah, do you think on the next field trip she’ll sing a song for me?’

‘Don’t be sarcastic,’

‘Oh yeah, you and Miss Barns, taking on racial prejudice—why don’t you get capes?’

‘Head teacher, then?’

’Yeah, ‘cause he’s not racist at all,’ he paused, ‘Mum. None of this will help.’

Sometimes, the only way to get away from a conversation is to stream videos of cats walking into doors. Nathan showed me a podcast about an astronaut whose dream had been to go to Mars.

On my drive home, I called my ex-husband, Ayodele. I told him what had happened to Nathan, and told him about my plan to report the boys to the police, or get testimony from Isaac. I told him what Nathan had said, how it had reminded me of the days when he and I used to fight. I told him I was scared for Nathan, and wanted to protect him.

‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘All people are going to hear is that a black boy attacked white boys for drugs.’

‘But,’

‘Don’t tell the police. Nothing will happen to those other kids and they’ll make his life hell. He’ll be the one considered violent and dangerous. Prime suspect for every crime.’

‘But I could–’

‘I’ve seen this happen before. Just let it go.’

‘I want to help.’

‘But you don’t. There is nothing you can do to protect him.’

am i worth the wait?

i read stories,

of star-crossed lovers.

two people

one heart.

two lives

one love.

after searching for a long time

i found someone who gave me hope.

he was different

something that i could fall in love with.

but after so many years of searching,

after finally finding an option,

i began to ask a different question.

not who would love me

but how?

i know that i am difficult to love.

it would take a lot of persuasion and waiting.

i am difficult to love.

am i worth the wait?

as tears stream down my face in the dark

the hum of the car speeding through the night,

i finally realized i was the problem.

that i am too difficult to love.

and after a while of constantly fighting for my trust,

they will leave.

just like the first time.

because i am too difficult to love

and not worth the wait.

Never know how much I love you, Prose

never know how much writers care

when you enclose me in your open arms

you give me heat to write and flare

sky’s the limit, I’m not censored

fellow writers flash daytime with ideas

Prose flames moonlight by its challenges

guides me along the fire of promise

shared with group of fevered creators

gypsy souls intensify my imagination

roll my verve down flamed inspiration

flared open to suggestions and thoughts

Prose exposes me to delirium of my essence

encourages me to strike in new directions

I light up when I call the name of Prose

because I know that it will treat me right

now you know how much I love you

igniting creativity until I glow my torch.

I miss him.

I miss him so much,

but my mind doesn’t want to admit it.

I pretend that he wants me too.

When he turns back,

he’s actually looking at me.

When he walks by,

it’s because he wanted to see me.

I pretend that we have this secret affection.

That his heart longs for mine,

and I’m the one who doesn’t want him.

I’m the one who is too good for him.

too smart for him,

too pretty for him,

too much for him.

But my mind is a liar,

and my eyes decieve me.

For the fact is,

it’s all deception.

When he turns around,

he’s looking at someone else.

When he comes by,

he’s just walking.

And anyone can see

he’s too good for me.

He doesn’t even notice my existence anymore.

And as much as I want him to,

he doesn’t want me.

I'm feeling strange.

My chest is throbbing,

as I sit alone on my bed.

I wish for someone to talk to,

but I don't want anyone to see.

I want to feel someone's arms around me,

but there's no one I would want to touch.

I long so badly for someone.

to listen to my sorrows,

to be the one that I trust.

Bu there's no one like that.

There's no one that could fill this gap.

So all I can do is sit alone,

wishing for someone to hold me,

but not letting anyone close.