Today I bury the demons in my bed
as I say goodbye to the child in my head,
while I buried her under my alter.
From the shadows of the boneyard
to the exposure in the throne room
and at last the funeral in my court yard.
I drown myself in salt water tears
and regurgitate you from my consciousness.
I weed you from the roots and curse your seed;
My house is finally at peace.
— Tj
06|05|17
“The demons
will tremble at your name,
They will say;
My leaders said to me
“Jesus I know,
Our great apostle
prophesied over me
“Paul I know,
My leaders said
I was a Godsend,
“And Natasha, I know.”
What would you say
To your little self?
Don’t.
What would you say
To little Tash?
Please, don’t.
They said that I
Had a piece of Gods own
Heart within my own.
Please don’t let this happen.
God can hear your cries,
God will catch all your tears
in the palm of their hand.
I would say
End the pain
Before I get here,
To this place.
I wish this would all go away.
This wasn’t your fault,
You were a child.
This wasn’t their fault,
They were seeking community.
Then why am I drowning
In this salt water lake.
Please don’t let this happen to me.
End it, end it,
Please end it.
I wish I were drowning
Because it’s too late
for me to, now.
I am floating face down
In this salt water lake.
Is it not beautiful to want
to create
your own Self into
Your own image?
To break the laws of nature and
matter and physics
and all of life around us,
for Our own Self
Love and Desire?
To adorn ourselves in
unnatural ways, simply because
We yearn to, and therefore
fulfil our own desires?
Is that not praise worthy?
We are the kings and queens of
Our own kingdom,
Our own domain.
We are Our own self made
gods that We choose to worship,
is that not liberating?
Then why shall we let
other great powers
oppress us?
Why has thou let another
kill Your sense of Self,
your own worth,
Your Own Existence?
We are the children of stars,
We are as great a number
as the grains of sand,
Why do we not act like it?
We celebrate the sun for
going around in circles,
We put high in the pedestal
greedy men that do naught
but leisure in robes,
and us?
The labourers,
the great strength that
built this world we live in
with blood
and sweat
and tears,
We the sufferers of hardship,
are we not worth glorification?
Why then, pray tell, do we allow
ourselves to be treated as
metal clogs in a machine that
cannot think
or move for itself?
Did we not evolve
for greater things
than this?
“
I need You to Know
this; if I Love You, if I
am in Love with You,
if i Make Love
With You,
please Know that i
Do Not Expect Anything From You.
I Love You
for How You make
me feel,
for who
You are, for what You do.
My Love for You should
Not change you, that is Not my place,
I have No right.
Change should come from Yourself, from
Love for Yourself.
I am simply here to give Love, to enjoy giving
You Love,
it is a simple, yet wonderful
Blessing if
You choose to
return
Your Love.
“
—T.j
17.02.17
I do not understand.
I cannot fathom the
thought of
How.
I lay into the soft of his
bare skin,
knowing full well that if I
moved my leg upward and
pressed, I would arouse him.
I breathed in his smell and
it coaxed the thud
of my heart down to my
sexual organs, each time
I closed my eyes
I saw
the erotic image of me
straddling his strong body,
slamming my
thighs against him, embracing
His length
fully,
Rhythmically
inside
of me.
I wanted him.
I wanted him.
I wanted him so badly.
God, I wanted to fuck him.
I wanted him inside me.
I wanted to grab his
smooth
skin and
eat it,
swallow
him
whole.
Yet, I did not.
I know he is not ready for me,
I know he is not yet comfortable
with me and
I would not,
I will not force myself onto him.
Maybe I am just shy, but I could not
bring myself to do that to him.
I lay there wanting these things,
holding these desires in and
I was at a loss.
My heart sunk as I thought of
Every boy that
held these Exact
Lusts
for
my
Body
but did not Respect
My Right,
My Choice
to say
No.
I do not understand
How someone could do that
to some one’s body.
I cannot fathom the thought of
How they did that
to My Body.
I cannot believe that that
has happened to
Me.
“
Every single time i hear it is December, the
inside of me collapses.
My long bones, my spine, my ribs; they
rattle and shake,my poor heart; she quakes,
my stomach threatens to give way to
all of her acids,
Every single time i hear
it is December, for a second- and only
a second;
i am threatened by the fear
of all my organs burning and drowning me
with their fluids and functions,
Because December means that i have
pulled myself- achingly dragged myself
closer to the threshold of another year.
Because December means that i have yet
another set of deadlines of
societal guidelines that
i did not meet,
Because December means it has been
another year of all of this, oh what a mess,
oh what a heavy burden
of human living.
Alas, as the days drive by and the
dust settles on the road and
on my bare skin, I am
able to clear my eyes and see.
I hear it is December and first I want to cry
out and scream and kick and run away, but
then I look around at this place.
This place, my place, my very own space;
it is me spilling myself along the hall and
bleeding myself on the floor and
soaking all the rugs.
I am the pillows, I am the strong walls that
hold this shelter above me, I have begun to
build my foundations on this ground, and
oh how I decorate myself so superbly.
It is December and I am so lucky to have
somehow created this life I have for myself.
It is December, and fuck the seasonal
shopping aisles;
I’ve spent too much of this year lying on the
ground,
I am dusting myself off and
I am getting up and
I am taking small steps to look forward
to the rest of my life
as me.
”
—T.j
Written on the 15th
of December, 2016
Behold, behold
I see the Lord!
Behold,
I see myself
In the reflection of a window,
I am
wearing winter clothes and
I am
smoking a cigarette that was
rolled and half smoked
a week ago.
“
Everybody is too busy
trying to find themselves
in the sky,
We forget to see how pretty
the ground is.
Stop looking up, silly,
there is no man
in the sky!
Look how pretty
the ground is.
”
— T.j
I was a proud captain
of a ship,
a ship that smashed
and broke apart
as vehement waves
beat down so heavily
onto her.
I waded through entire oceans,
Dragged along by violent
and greedy currents,
Yet I survived.
They say no man is an island,
But there i was;
alone,
distant,
Drowning.
Yet somehow I escaped,
Every day I would
gather my strength
And try to swim
as far out as I could,
and some days
I could not even
leave the shallows
of the bay.
But somehow I am
back in your civilisation,
and I ask you please;
Let me join you.
I was not a proud captain
Of just any old,
Meagre ship.
Oh no, no,
She was strong;
built from all kinds of woods,
Made for the deepest and
Most aggressive waters.
Yet she was weary;
She had endured so much,
She smashed
and broke apart.
Now I am no longer a captain
Of a ship.
I am Tasha Jade,
I am a goddess,
The inhabiter
Of this fleshy,
Blood filled,
Human being.
— T.j
arebirdsbees 