This Is My Soul On Blue Lines

By Shatieka Ross

Poetry about family, friends, those wanting to be friends or having only the intentions of taking advantage of you. This book addresses different faces of pain in life, loss, hurt, being optimistic during trials, celebrating those that dedicated themselves to the progression of their loved ones. Not everyone will agree with the way I see things and some might. My book is not to offend but to shed light from my prospective based on what I myself have gone through or saw someone I knew go through.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9780996223515

Book preview

‘Amazing’

It’s amazing how your thoughts alone

Can so easily drift you into a zone

Pleasant images bypassing the ill

Gradually manifesting to

The way that you feel

Subconsciously a thief

If you’re yearning to steal…

A moment or 2 for your soul to reveal

If no fear existed…

In what dream would you be enlisted?

Would delayed plans be persisted?

When the going gets tough

‘They say’ the tough gets going

Realize that life is much more

Than you just ‘knowing’

No direction and your life

Just…flowing

Mental ejections help aide you

In showing

There’d be no fruit

If there was no growing

There’d be no growing if there was no seed

To get what you want

Is to do 1st what you need

Keep all to yourself

What you wish to plead

God and only you

Can help you succeed.

‘Being… Real’

I don’t know how to break the fucking cycle

Feels like I’m loosing my fuvking marbles

I wash up, wake up, dress up

Catch the bus, go to work

Go home, go to sleep

And, do the same thing everyday

Been doing the same shit

Since fucking forever, yo!

My ideas are clustering the fuck out of

My big ass head!

I want to do more than just…

LOOK at my fucking material I write

I think by helping people

I help myself

I’m starting to believe

What was said about me a few times before

That I’m crazy

But, what’s sane?

I make sense only when I write

And, there are only

But, so many pages of pain

Complaining as I read over my work

I’m surprised my pain’s remaining.

‘Buried Alive’

I may look alive to you

But, I’m buried alive

So many years I stopped living

Just so I could survive

So many thoughts, experiences

And, feelings repressed

It seems harder to succeed

Than it is to regress

Investing in depression

Is a thing I avoid

Zero tolerance of bullshit

Easy to be annoyed

Talents buried

While my physical is living and breathing

I’ve been walking on theses blue lines

Still feels like I’m teething

Past pains scarred my heart

Still feels like I’m bleeding

May seem dim to you

But, on the paper I’m gleaming

Looking pat what’s in the mirror

See, my soul I’m redeeming.

‘BUT…’

Have you ever noticed that in most cases

The smallest words are the ones

With a lot of impact?

Like the word ‘BUT’ for example

I like her BUT…

I have to do this and/or that BUT

It separates the emotional from the logical

The subconscious form the conscientious

The repressed from the transgressed

That 3 letter word

Has fucked my