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Kavion Norman Poem
Those memories won’t propel the future,
Don died in less than 24 words spoken,
In less than 24 hours lived he grazed the grace of time,
To end up in a grave that was premature.
The lie involving love and life is consistently incomprehensible,
For we were too young to know of their existence in the end,
The end still comes and we all die inevitably,
I should’ve stayed on the school bus.
I should’ve denied the move that would “better” the time we would spend in the future,
I could’ve changed the way that time elapsed beyond the eye,
My eyes are still blind.
And I’m done digressing on my passion and the things I hold dear to my lungs,
For once I have the pen and a story that could shape the men of tomorrow.
The same sorrows you endure may not be temporary,
a year from now,
You weren’t supposed to win, you were supposed to survive.
Surviving doesn’t guarantee happiness nor does it change the way your feelings fill within your mind.
joy is broken,
sadness is passionate,
anger is irrefutable,
fear is suicidal,
disgust is a must,
embarrassment holds envy,
envy is gigantic,
boredom wins in the end,
and anxiety held the gun that was inevitably bound to blow.
eternally,
D.J.F ?
Copyright © Kavion Norman | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Kavion Norman Poem
Beauty,
that’s what they all possessed,
distracted,
from their beauty and strong posture
I overlooked,
overlooked the mirror that exposed their hurt;
their ability to endure pain
to truly feel
I had been wrong,
been led a stray
by them. the seekers,
the ones who wish to be loved.
their beauty was a disguise,
good enough to burn the soul
to the point where you felt what they once did!
eternally,
D.J.F ?
Copyright © Kavion Norman | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Kavion Norman Poem
I think we block our own blessings.
I think the crescent moon has a glare to its presence.
Bespoken hypotheticals, the ones of the present,
My past is in a foot race as if I’m a servant.
I’m learning the lessons about our blackness and roots,
Am I a victim to you?
Cause I couldn’t afford the comfort, of private schools and Benz’s?
I won’t mince my words, or change the lenses they come in,
It’s only fit..
My history won’t fit the dream you all call American,
A mere glimpse inside my can will shatter your “I can do things”
Through Christ I’m a prophet,
Yet to you I’m nonprofit,
And to them I’m a lost cause, it seems I should forfeit.
Another anomaly, in a system that’s broken,
The more we speak, the more we awaken the quaking and aching.
Am I a ghost to the ruse?
I’ve been abused and used,
Feel I should cut things loose, so that I’m of no use.
A mirror, shows my broken spirit,
My country doesn’t care about the limits put on our heads,
Everybody’s got a dream but no dollar to spare,
Retire now or die later, see if we dare to care,
Intuition, doesn’t do much good,
if you reach below he’ll blow your brains and we’ll feel the pain,
Now can we stop with that poor man’s dream?
Seems like we won’t gleam til that light shines bright,
we’re not even of white complexities,
that’s just the complex city we live in.
eternally,
D.J.F
Copyright © Kavion Norman | Year Posted 2024
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