Kern Carter's Blog, page 67
December 17, 2021
December 16, 2021
December 15, 2021
Code Red
Photo by Paul Bulai on UnsplashWhen I notice the spark between us
I don’t see it can turn into
flickers of untamed thirst.
Your eyes project a light I’ve never seen
they light up when it’s dim
they hiss like the tip of a flame
when they kiss the surface of the flesh.
As your words become smoke
intoxicating my sense, my worth,
my sense of worth, I learn
my body is not a fire.
You’re not afraid to touch.
___
Previously uploaded here.
Code Red was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
December 14, 2021
On: Loving What I Create
My apartment leasing office. Every season, it’s appropriately themed, and this one . . . made me smile. I figured I’d share it with you. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. LoadholtMusical Selection: Drake|JungleA free verse poemit wasn’t a when it was a where . . .
I moved hundreds of miles away
from my home state and fell in
love with rolling hills, vast mountains,
and four seasons.
I knew I had several lives within me — dwelling
in comfort and begging to be set free.
before this change, I could write.
I could tell tales, weave poetry, and
set into motion articles of any kind,
but this change . . . changed me.
I won’t tell you my struggles
disappeared, no — instead, they further
shaped me and lifted me to a place
I needed for comfort.
I had to get away from where I
was to get to where I am.
I’ll repeat . . .
I had to get away from where I
was to get to where I am.
I had become a shell of myself,
cracked on every edge, yearning
to be seen by anyone who would
widen their eyes in my direction.
I wrote my way out of traps I
placed for myself — wrote my way
out of arguments with my baby brother
over our (at the time) drug addict of
a mother — wrote my way out of
cells built for my kind . . . I learned to
push my anger into the deepest pit
of my belly and create . . .
I learned to pull myself out of
the pits of hell and create.
I began to love this gift.
away from you — where I could
grow — away from all of you — where
I could stretch myself up and out.
I am touching the clouds now.
I am breathing clean air now.
I am comfortable in my skin now.
this jungle of a world sinks its
teeth in, one by one, and I have
had to run away from the bite marks
pressed into my flesh.
I wear layers, always prepared for
winter even when it’s seasons away.
God has been kind to me, overall — I’m
still able to cut a finger or two
and bleed willingly.
I am giving my gift to thousands.
I pray I’m changing someone
and even if I’m not — I’ve changed.
I’ve changed.
and I love it.
©2021 Tremaine L. Loadholt
https://medium.com/media/73cebf2938affb39ad74e6fe933f7bda/href[image error]On: Loving What I Create was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
