…Finally

It took some time,

Lost friends and family along the way, and it made me realize,

What’s important.

It took a lot of self-reflection,

Periods of not knowing,

To understand that I do know.

Thirty-one seems like a small feat to some,

But to me I’ve lived for enough lifetimes to come.

-N

Mind

It’s back.

That mental fog I hate so much.

It distracts me from what’s important.

I can’t focus, or I’m too focused.

The negatives are blown up exponentially.

The positives aren’t as great as I’d like them to be.

I’m low on energy.

I’m nervous, and anxious and-

I can’t say the next part.

I might be judged for that.

-N

…Anonymous

I’m back again.

I tried to leave but it didn’t work.

I tried to leave it behind but it came back.

It goaded me back into its dark confines.

I couldn’t say no.

I was on the straight and narrow for a while.

Proud that I was able to start again.

I’ve said that line for too long.

But the temptation was too strong.

The lure of your wicked promise so decadent.

High enough to feel but not enough to breathe.

This is reckless and-

You brought the necklace back.

Yeah.

-N

The Dreamer’s Reality

I love being self-employed. A podcaster, romance writer, and poet.

It’s fun stuff.

However, while it is fun, you also need the monetary side of things to create such great works. Someone mentioned to me on TikTok the other day that I should activate listener support. Now because I am new to the podcast world, I had no idea that was even a thing until I opened up the money side of the Anchor app. I thought, “Oh great! I can unlock ads that will pay me in addition to allowing my listeners the chance to donate for the podcast to keep going.”

Venturing into the monetization aspect of the podcast caused my mind to drift into a thoughtful, yet necessary tangent about money and passions.

As a rule I hate asking for money. I’ve always felt that people tend to judge whenever you ask. I’ve seen it countless times in my life. I’ve even seen it destroy several relationships. Personally I was never this way. If I had it, I would give it no questions asked. I always thought a person had to be in a tight bind to ask for money.

When I gave money I never cared. I never even felt that someone was using me because I always figured that God would make sure any wrong was righted. I also think it comes with being an oldest sibling. I’ve always given the last of my money, food, smart devices, etc., to my sister or friends if she/he/they needed it. I’ve given to former classmates on my college campus who needed but was too shy to admit to it.

I’m not saying it to get praise.

I’m saying it to show how little I care about the issue. I am the same way towards my friends and family. I’ve been in difficult situations so I know what it’s like to need something from someone without the hundreds of questions and pitying looks. I always told myself that I would make sure to always be kind to others and if I had it, I would give it. Simply because I knew that one day good karma would come back to me, be it in family harmony, good relationships or an easy-going life.

I’m an honest woman. And I am proud. (Not prideful mind you but content with what I have) I hate asking for anything, especially when it comes to my profession. I work hard on my podcast and books. But then I realized that this wouldn’t be borrowing money from a friend or family. This wouldn’t be a handout. This would be me hoping to have monetary support from interested listeners or viewers who would want to contribute somehow.

I wouldn’t become upset, or hold others at gun-point for not wanting to support by payment. Some people may support my work by listening, others with money, some with an encouraging word. Support comes in all forms and I am here for it.

I hope this reaches other entrepreneurs/content creators in the world. I want you to know that if you feel shameful, or embarrassed about asking others to support your journey, you shouldn’t be. Your gift is your trade.

It took me a couple of years to realize that there is nothing wrong with asking for help.

Ever.

If you’d like to support my podcast monetarily please click here. If you want to leave an encouraging word or subscribe you can click above as well. Whatever support you’d like to offer I am here to receive it.

I love you all so very much and thank you for listening. Have a happy Saturday.

🥰

The Death of A Melanated Man

Your funeral was today.

The house was quiet.

The food was simmering.

I cooked your favorite meal with the pie you like.

It always gave me delight to watch you bite into what I created.

I always debated, waited with bated breath for you to taste it.

You’d roll your eyes and laugh at my fit.

The streets mourned you passing.

Still in shock we all came in caravans amassing and surpassing the church.

I sat in that front pew barely held together.

Something pieced together like paper does to glue.

The casket was closed,

your body which at one time was so strong,

fragile and decimated because of the evil forces that took you away from me.

I always vowed that nothing short of wild horses would take you from my grasp.

I had no idea that these wild horses were in uniforms given the license to kill.

Your death took away all of my will.

I just-it’s still.

-N

A Bit…

I was in the slums.

Mentally drained and felt no relief.

I tried valiantly to free myself.

But my soul and body were warring with one another,

causing a discord within me.

I would smile then scream,

Become reflective and deprecating.

I just,

I need a lil’ bit of-

I need this fog to clear.

This block in my eye.

keeps preventing me from the fly.

Confused at my own thoughts.

Yeah.

Expressions & Definitions

So I posted a new podcast episode. I read Edge Pieces by Brooke Freeman. She has a blog up on WordPress titled, “Low Expectations,” and I highly recommend you go and read some of her poetry. I will have her as a guest for next week’s podcast. If you are interested in reading some good poetry check her out, or click here to listen as I read her poem Edge Pieces.

-N

Low Expectations: https://lowexpectations56373273.wordpress.com

Addiction

Les Abysses

I try to tell it to stay away sometimes,

And for a while It will listen.

Appalled at my behavior to be kind,

Listen to reason,

Try and see the other’s person’s growing season,

IT wants nothing to do with me.

But there are weeks when it comes back.

Past midnight IT whispers in my ear tempting me with sin and delight!

How I bite my lip and withhold my moans for fear of IT noticing and my thoughts take flight.

I try to-

I just need-

Force these positive thoughts in and-

Est-ce que ca me tuerait de vivre une nuit de depravation?

IT walks toward me bed,

hovering over my face.

I can smell the sweet scent of his breath and the allure of-

No one can know.

This secret I hold dear.

Else I won’t be seen how I should be.

Instead they’ll only know of what became of me.

-N


	

To My Love, Amir.

I’m suffocating.

I see my brothers and sisters dying for no reason, and it guts me.

Driving while black,

Sleeping while black,

Eating while black,

Talking while black,

Laughing while black,

Dancing while black,

Learning while black,

and the lists goes on.

There is no justice for me,

No peace for me.

Even though they tell me there will be.

Be what?

More pain?

More suffering?

I’m so used to physical pain,

I don’t know how to exist in a realm of sane.

This plague on my brain….

Yet I can’t complain.

Not supposed to anyway.

I’m just supposed to sway in the distance,

not be resistant,

be tolerant and coexistent.

Tell that to the people that oppress me.

That try to steal the light from under me.

I want to yell like a banshee,

but I have to be still, sit and grin with quiet glee.

It’s the American way they say.

American being white.

The white way.

Because that’s the right way.

To point out all the faults within this system would be unpatriotic.

But how can that be? At least for me?

My people worked these streets,

and built these buildings hoping one day they’d get a chance to truly see!

The need to return home is prevalent,

It is making me more than malevolent.

Oh to waddle in the dark night.

I straddle the fence of what is wrong, and right.

Ohhhhh, to be wrong for just one night.

-N

Pink Horizon

I took off the mask,

Basked in the knowledge that I am free.

I have been liberated,

the invisible chains have been broken,

I’m no longer worth a token.

The toxicity of this realm has stifled me.

Forced me to dwell in places that I never meant to be.

In, win, depends,

You know the drill.

I used to hold myself back,

So they’d cut me some slack.

I’m past all of that.

Going into a new year,

I’ve made a vow to be honest with myself.

To live my best life,

else I end up detesting myself.

-N

*Make sure to check out my podcast where I talk about all things poetry!

https://anchor.fm/nicole-renee5