I tried to make a home out of you, but doors lead to trap doors, a stairway leads to nothing. Unknown women wander the hallways at night. Where do you go when you go quiet? You remind me of my father, a magician ... able to exist in two places at once. In the tradition of men in my blood, you come home at 3 a.m. and lie to me. What are you hiding? The past and the future merge to meet us here. What luck. What a f*cking curse. I tried to change. Closed my mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less awake. Fasted for 60 days, wore white, abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex, slowly did not speak another word. In that time, my hair, I grew past my ankles. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. I levitated. Went to the basement, confessed my sins, and was baptized in a river. I got on my knees and said 'amen' and said 'I mean.' I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet, I bathed in bleach, and plugged my menses with pages from the holy book, but still inside me, coiled deep, was the need to know ... Are you cheating on me? If it's what you truly want ... I can wear her skin over mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us. Immortalized ... you and your perfect girl. I don't know when love became elusive. What I know is, no one I know has it. My father's arms around my mother's neck, fruit too ripe to eat. I think of lovers as trees ... growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light. Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? Everyone else can. So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children, both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted. Most bomb p*ssy who, because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud was loneliness, Her god listening. Her heaven will be a love without betrayal. Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks. She sleeps all day. Dreams of you in both worlds. Tills the blood, in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc, grief sedated by orgasm, orgasm heightened by grief. God was in the room when the man said to the woman, "I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me. Pull me in, pull me in, pull me in." Sometimes when he'd have her nipple in his mouth, she'd whisper, "Oh, my God." That, too, is a form of worship. Her hips grind, pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves. Whenever he pulls out ... loss. Dear moon, we blame you for floods ... for the flush of blood ... for men who are also wolves. We blame for the night for the dark, for the ghosts. Every fear ... every nightmare ... anyone has ever had. You find the black tube inside her beauty case where she keeps your father's old prison letters. You desperately want to look like her. You look nothing like your mother. You look everything like your mother. Film star beauty. How to wear your mother's lipstick. You go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick. Somewhere no one can find you. You must wear it like she wears disappointment on her face. Your mother is a woman and women like her cannot be contained. Mother dearest, let me inherit the earth. Teach me how to make him beg. Let me make up for the years he made you wait. Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name? Did he convince you he was a god? Did you get on your knees daily? Do his eyes close like doors? Are you a slave to the back of his head? Am I talking about your husband or your father? He bathes me until I forget their names and faces. I ask him to look me in the eye when I come home. Why do you deny yourself heaven? Why do you consider yourself undeserving? Why are you afraid of love? You think it's not possible for someone like you. But you are the love of my life. You are the love of my life. You are the love of my life. Baptize me ... now that reconciliation is possible. If we're gonna heal, let it be glorious. 1,000 girls raise their arms. Do you remember being born? Are you thankful for the hips that cracked? The deep velvet of your mother and her mother and her mother? There is a curse that will be broken. You are terrifying ... and strange and beautiful The nail technician pushed my cuticles back ... turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says, "I see your daughters and their daughters." That night in a dream, the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach. The scar heals into a smile. The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails. We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath, I wake as the second girl crawls headfirst up my throat A flower blossoming out of the hole in my face. Take one pint of water, add a half pound of sugar, the juice of eight lemons the zest of half lemon Pour the water from one jug, then into the other, several times Strain through a clean napkin Grandmother, the alchemist You spun gold out of this hard life Conjured beauty from the things left behind Found healing where it did not live Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen Broke the curse with your own two hands You passed these instructions down to your daughter Who then passed it down to her daughter *Grandmother's dialogue "I've had my ups and downs, but I always find the inner strength to pull myself up. I was served lemons, but I made lemonade" My grandma said, nothing real can be threatened True love brought salvation back into me With every tear came redemption And my torturer became my remedy So we're gonna heal, we're gonna start again. You've brought the orchestra Synchronized swimmers, you are the magician. Pull me back together again the way you cut me in half Make the woman in doubt disappear Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk, knot after knot after knot The audience applauds... but we can't hear them.
"You think it's not possible for someone like you. But you are the love of my life. You are the love of my life. You are the love of my life." The born of Virgo's Groove
This poetry gets me through the tough time of unrequited love. When she says : “did he make you forget you name? Did he convince you that he was a god” That exactly what he did.
This is painful beauty. And suffering healing. We all could go through, if we are willing to go through. When we have no fear to fear, to lose and wanna heal after all.
This album led me to discover slam poetry, and spoken word a few years ago. I was worried coming back it wouldn’t be as good as I remember, but it’s still an absolute masterpiece.
This is truly a SPIRITUAL SPIRITS SPEAKING TO US TO MAKE US SLEEP BETTER, Make our 3rd Eyes Open better, Make our Aura brighter, Eat Better, Pray Better and Love Better 💖🙏🏿💯
“Dear moon, We blame you for floods For the flush of blood For men, who are also wolves We blame you for the night, For the dark, For the ghosts Every fear, Every nightmare, Anyone has ever had.”
"So what are you going to say at my funeral now that you've killed me?" This line is so painful and omg "he" have a kid WHY IS HE DOING THIS omg we all hate him shame on him..
Because it is demonic, she talks about wiping her period blood with the Bible. When she is talking about confessing her sins and getting baptized she is talking about giving her life to satan. Ik it’s crazy but just look at it deeper
Damn, this is good... what is this, her lyrics slowed down? Or is this legit her reading some of her poetry? Edit: just finished listening and this is legit poetry. I hope she has a book of poems out there because I really enjoyed this. Well put together verses, with poignant depth. Beyonce has a poet's voice for sure.
These are poems that help tell the story of her visual album "Lemonade". Each poem introduces a chapter and a music video, there are 11 chapters total and they were all written by Warsan Shire.
So the big idea study of the origin of cannabilism is extensively noted in the wearing of the perfect girls body parts over the body It was the sources educational pleasure to study the big idea extensively in the origin of cannabilism in wearing skin of the husbands perfect girl and conduct psychopathy assessments. Thank you. Source and husband 2007
And “my love” the former target of the big idea the source side left extensive notes of Assyrian ancient dna libraries aka “chaos” vs. ancient romes control over chaos in the trailer of six degrees of separation trailer and movie on the psychopathic alligator and hope this information is helpful to psychiatry. In terms of cultural evolutions in these encantations you can hear the evolution of voodoo origins also a government study in the south to the younger version of voodoo in the country of Haiti as we studied with 2008. Thank you source and husband 2007
And because the big idea was world origin Haiti it was romes also world origin responsibility to immortalize her in the government system with the queen of the damned for future source and husbands to study the world origin of big ideas anywhere. And we did that with angels p diddy dirty money song. Plain version. Thank you source and husband 2007
dirty money will always be dirty money. Now they will understand their origin ..the big idea 2007. Thank you source and husband 2007 ancient Roman’s and Egyptians
Bitch you still sat here to listen to the damn thing done in her voice. She has written songs that are now fucking DIAMOND!!! you are hating behind a fucking screen, knowing that you will NEVEERRR be as successful as this woman! Now please move along
