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National Hobby Month

January is National Hobby Month! While we engage in our hobbies all year long, I think it’s fitting that the year begins with us taking note of what we enjoy doing. Plus, we can think about whether there are some activities we want to continue doing or stop, and any new activities we might want to pick up.


Some of my hobbies include making music, writing stories, and creating YouTube videos. Check out my music here, and my YouTube channel here!

Let me know in the comments what some of your hobbies are! – T

This Show’s A Train

Context

During the beginning stages of Covid, everything was shut down, and we were all forced to stay inside. At this point, I had just befriended someone who I felt very connected with, and I’d like to think they felt the same. However, as the early lockdown days continued, I started becoming very depressed and frustrated with isolation, as I’m sure many of you also experienced. I really wanted to see her in person, but obviously couldn’t. We were both in difficult places in our lives. That, plus Covid, caused us to drift apart, and I experienced my first heartbreak.

The poem below, which I’ve titled This Show’s a Train, was written by me as a result of the above situation. I tried to write more, but decided that these six lines were enough as they perfectly explain my feelings.


This show’s a train, it’s moving fast

You and I weren’t meant to last

Just for once can life be a blast

Cause I’m tired of life repeating the past

Being with you, made me so gassed

Then our friendship broke like glass


Thank you for reading. – TM

Black & White

I wrote this poem, Black & White, to express how I feel being an ethnically diverse individual.

Black & White

Half black and half white, so it makes sense that I feel gray

Represented by the clothes that I wear every day

Talking about my side that isn’t safe in the streets

I feel like a doughnut, guess who’s looking for a treat

Even at home where I try to relax and eat

I’m asked if I’ll rob, instead of friendly greets

Same thing at school, all the clowns speak in tweets

Slur after slur, they treat me like a freak

Report to the teachers, gave them all of the receipts

Funny how suddenly their vision would deplete

And I’m the one that they tell to take a seat

And for the side that most don’t even see

Sometimes that “most” is in the family

I get the look that says “You’re not related to me”

And when I’m outside with mom, it’s the same thing I notice 

The scenario in their head, with me as the focus

“Why is he following that poor woman everywhere?”

“They’re obviously not related, look no further than their hair”

So as you can see, it’s a war on both sides

I won’t choose a team, so I’ll just have to hide

I rarely felt like I fit in anyway, so it doesn’t even matter

But until then, it’s time to be an actor

Final Thoughts

Since high school, I started feeling the effects of being ethnically diverse. I feel quite uncomfortable when I am the only black person in a group of white folks, due to past experiences where ignorant and racist comments have been made. Even in a group of all black folks, I still become a little uncomfortable because I feel like I lack a lot of cultural knowledge, therefore it’s been difficult to relate to others.

I very much prefer being in a diverse setting; where there are people that come from all sorts of ethnic backgrounds. It puts me much more at ease knowing I am not outnumbered, and there are multiple cultures present.

– Therell

If you would like to hear other poems I’ve written, visit my Music Channel.

And check out this poem submitted by Emorie, it’s a very stellar writing piece.

Bipolar Depression – Poem

My intention with this poem is to describe the perspective most people with mental health disorders go through with symptoms, not allowing the disorder to become a part of our identity and the vulnerability of connectivity with others due to stigmas placed on mental health and the help towards betterment.

Emorie – 25

Sharing My Poem “Enough”

In honor of Black Poetry Day, this post is me sharing my poem Enough that I wrote a year or two ago and read aloud on my music YouTube channel.

This poem was made after the loss of a friendship that I really treasured. Sometimes relationships, platonic or romantic, fizzle out and it can be heartbreaking, especially if it was a relationship you thought would last forever.

– Therell

Recovery Poetry: EZ’s poem: What Is and Isn’t Normal

A Love Letter.

This is a love letter to the abused,
For my friends who’ve dug fault lines so deep into their soul
They don’t understand when a compliment bounces off their armored skin with a hollow t h u n k
And stare blankly ahead with confusion when even the closest of people try to lift them higher
They think to themselves, ‘What’s wrong with me?’
When there’s nothing wrong at all

This is a love letter to the abused,
For the wise and the meek to realize that they can take off their armor
That they can shed their tears without hesitation or fear
Allow yourself to rise from your soot and ash,
You are worthy of more than limitations you’ve set
Unburden your soul and unclench your fists for you deserve to smile for yourself

… This is a love letter to the abused,
From one kindred spirit to you.

 

Submitted by: Faljak

Talk with the creator of this expression and join the conversation here

“Who Am I?”

There are a lot of people who will ask, in most any plethora of scenarios:

“Tell me a list of traits you’re proud of.”

“What are some positives?”

“Give me a reason why you’re a good person.”

We always sit there listening to nothing but that off-beat clock on the wall, avoiding awkward looks that seem to give the gist of, ‘well I tried I’ll see you next week I guess’, as we attempt rather poorly to come up with just one pitiful answer.

One.

You know how disgusting it is? To not look yourself in the mirror? To see not glass, but broken shards? The past? The scars and fears? The demons lurking over your shoulders in every corner of those four walls?

All it ever took, was that one answer to get going. To get anyone going.

So who am I? Not by definition of one fucked up stigmata so screwed into my core, blaring like a goddamn police siren every time someone asks, “What’s wrong?”

My answer? What else but, “Fine.”

It’s not fine. But I can tell you what is.

Who am I but talented. You know that one professor you have that kicks your ass with work? Makes you think outside of the realm of reason? I had one. She made me think, made me understand things… And even then I was presented with a new word to my arsenal: ‘Polymath’. In layman’s terms it means having the ability to be good a great many tasks but still being shit to yourself. I was always my worst critic, and still continue to be to this day.

Who am I but selfless. I have always emphasized that the ability to make someone smile would be greater than anything. So I cultivated that. I grew with that in my heart, and with that came another greater term: empathy. The ability to know and understand, to learn and guide… Where someone falls, you should know I will have my hand right there for you to help you back to your feet. Compassion, in its more pure form and reality, comes from the most deplorable of lifelines.

Who am I but resilient. Know where you come from, but why let it drown out who you are now? It’s useless to continue to lick those wounds, pick at scabs that continue to bleed and blind you day in and out. It took me years to realize it, yes, but once you let go and live. You’re actually alive. Abuse, night terrors, addictions, starvation tactics, self-harm and mutilation… The list worsens from there, but it takes a real strong mind, body, and soul, one that is steadfast and vigil, to overcome, oversee, and make peace with it all.

Who am I?

I am someone who deserves not the toil and tremor of depression, the affliction and pitfalls of trauma, the snares and fears of anxiety. I can learn and expand beyond even those.

I am someone who does not need this wall that blockades me from the world; sheltering me from everyone and everything, surrounding me in my fear and degradation. By one foul brick and mortar at a time, I am greater than this and the masks I’ve put up to keep everyone at bay.

I am someone who knows she is limitless with potential, yet nowhere near some gross definition of perfection.

I am worthy. I am good. I am —

Fine!

 

-Submitted by: Faljak

Talk with the creator of this expression and join the conversation here

Cursed.

“You are c u r s e d,”
They told me.

You do not know how to SEE,
You only see through a veil your mind creates, those eyes no one else knows about
You only see the good in those around you
Even if they tread you underfoot
You only gaze at others through the eyes of an old soul,
Expecting them to look back at you the same way

“You are c u r s e d,”
They told me.

You do not know how to love
You choose only to love your hate, your rage, your terror
And worst of all, have found comfort in it all
You have found love not in yourself,
But in your abusers
Yet your heart is greedy and so full of the ability to GIVE

“You are c u r s e d,”
They told me.

You know so much and explain so little,
Tell me do you know how your intuition works?
Can you explain your own emotions if asked?
Can you give yourself the time of day without thinking of someone else first?
You have grown complaisant to your pain,
You have come to anticipate it and thank those who give it

“But you are B L E S S E D,”
They told me.

As you fill your wounds with lacquered gold,
A scarred statue who feels so profoundly it connects to the souls around them
You cover yourself in the finest of cloth to hide from the snares in your mind
You have turned your demons, your monsters, into your familiars – who now service your needs
Your veins beat to a drum singing of L O V E,
And W O R T H

“My dear, you are blessed.”