Blackwriters - Blog Posts

Ever since I read The Alchemist I have always associated wandering the desert with searching for your dreams. It’s a book I come back to over and over again, each time leaving me a little more confused, but I keep reading expecting one time I’m going to figure it out the same way I keep coming back to the desert expecting to find… something. But every time I come I leave a piece of myself, each time bringing more and more of me to share, and every time I leave I take a piece of the desert back for me until one day I have it all figured out, or until the desert and I eventually swap places.

Muse

I've never felt so used. All I do is write and paint  and say beautiful things about you

and what do you do besides break my heart? Sure you inspire me but at what cost?

I’ll never own you but I feel like you belong to me.

I’ve called you home for far too long

far longer than these transplanted seeds.

They don't have any roots here they haven't grown any trees.

Yea, they sing you songs but they do you wrong, too.

It’s hard having to share you with those who have yet to shed their leaves.

When they come for a visit and they don't stay I'm the one that sweeps your streets the next day

and how do you repay me?

With hurricanes, and apathy and summers that last too long and disregard but I still hang you on my living room walls  

and invite everyone I know over to see that you're the one who inspires me even if you don't care at all.

Where Are You?

Please don’t leave me here with these people. I'm not of them. I won't love them. Take me with you when you go. I don’t recognize them. We don't speak the same language. They’re humid. They're dank.  They’re hollow. Don’t make me love them. I don’t want to. I just want you. I’ll be quiet on the road. I’ll love them if I have to but I’d never tell you I’d be too embarrassed to let you know. But tell me who will you love? Where will you go? Will it ever be as good? What will you do when they don't recognize you or they don't love you like they should? I’m right behind you. I’ll come and find you. Don’t be stubborn out there on your own. They love me here but it feels so empty. Don’t leave me here with them alone.

What is freedom and do I really want it? Freedom makes me uneasy. The idea of having infinite possibilities makes me anxious and lazy, because I feel like “free” can always be put off until tomorrow, or after I take my nap. Endlessness is daunting and can trick you into thinking that you have way more time than you actually do. I’m not sure if I completely trust myself with the autonomy over my decisions, because I change my mind often. I’m indecisive. I’m a Gemini. By nature we are lovers and fighters. What is freedom’s desire? Who is freedom’s enemy? I think the only freedom we seek is the freedom to choose what we want to be a slave to; love, time, money, art, wanderlust. I have been a slave to all of those things and for some reason have a desire to crawl back to them every time they let me go.

Banana Skirt

Young with fruitful purpose

Blossoming into words-

“I am Woman”

Grown from the seeds of home

Born fruitfully endowed into trial

With berries of milk

Leaves of pink

Curves of bursting corn

“I, a black Woman”

My skin, a peeling

Covering the buds

Blossoming into overt

Speech against the weeds

Who pretend to be flowers

Occluding to capitalize on Sun

Too young

To understand there is enough

For me, too. 

~ quill rose

Full video on IGTV @Mettamodernist

Here’s some poetry to hold down ya mental

IG: KEWALNAMCHRIST

Another day, another poem

EXCERPTS FROM MY NOVELS, “"THANK GOD FOR DRUGS”“ & ”“WOMEN IN BLACK AGAINST THE MACHINE”“

Peace and love, these are the first chapters from both my novels that I'm putting out this summer on the same day. There will be merch for both novels: 🔴 https://medium.com/@IAMKEWALNAM/the-lucifer-experiment-5a5d572e5135?source=linkShare-ed374a276e20-1491540996 🔵 https://medium.com/@IAMKEWALNAM/bullet-with-butterfly-wings-dcf173aff2cc?source=linkShare-ed374a276e20-1491540942 Hope you enjoy