In the heart of our people, arrogance has made home.
Sure of his place, man has said in his heart he is the only
power in the universe; the only life that exists; that matters
among the stars. Pride has taken home in his soul; has said in his mind, I am the almighty;
the one in control, I am god of all that lives and all that dies.
The seed of the ancients has forgotten his place.

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Fool's Errand

I'm walking the ledge, feet dangling over the edge, again.

Holding on to the rope that's holding on to me.

Wrapped so securely now, breath can't come too fast,

Choking on the knot as it struggles past.

It all dangles so far below.

All the possibilities.

But none of them can ever really be,

Because I can never be the me that should have been.

I've forgotten his face and his feel.

Forgotten what it was like to wear a normal boy's skin..

Too many years spent playing pretend.

But I'm left with his mind and all its crystal sharp brilliance.

Left with the list of failures that are mine to compound.

Left with the sense of an ending, a time that comes,

No more pretending.

All of the would-have-been and maybe-coulds.

All of the best of him, turned to shit.

Just enough left to make it work.

Just enough, to make sure it hurts that much worse.

Knowing what exactly I'm not anymore.

What exactly I lost along the way.

Being left with a handful of gems.

Gems that shine so very bright.

Precious stones I'm told many would kill for.

Little shining stars earning me friends anyone would

Be lucky to have.

These same pieces of soul-torn iridescence,

Are as rupees to most of you.

Rupees held in a shaking hand.

A hand beneath notice.

That believes in its worth, just as you do.

Too many would stare.

Spit upon me as I kneel patiently.

Hands help up hopefully.

Seeking your benediction.

A second chance at a forgone salvation.

Your laughter and your sneers,

At first produced tears and painful confusion.

That became replaced with a hardness one can almost taste,

And the distance of separation,

Between eyes and humanity.

Between mind and reality.

Between healthy mentality.

So he buried his hope in your spit covered sand.

He took his treasures and hid them away too.

First one at a time and then few by few.

He then went away inside himself,

Because sharing your world just hurt so damn much.

He hid and he healed,

Mending the broken best he could,

With spit and some dirt,

With the hateful words you hurled his way.

He fashioned himself a pair of shabby wings.

To the sun he would fly.

He'd soar to the moon and you'd never again get to see him cry.

So far up his tears would be as rain,

Watering the earth,

Feeding the plain.

So high up you'd never have to see him again.

Amongst the stars and the clouds,

With the sun all around,

He could be pretty like you,

And whole inside too.

He'd come back down after days and days.

Months after months.

You'd have forgotten who he was.

Start over again,

This time like it should have been before.

Better, than before.

With a smile on his face; he flew into the sky.

Soared with the birds, though awkward at first. They soon welcomed this dirty one,
Welcomed as kin. Bore him up when his wings would dip. Gave unto him the sacred trust
of guarding their chicks. Many suns came and went, many stories were shared. He learned many things, among them that they could really care for him and his odd ways. That they cared at all.
Soon came the day, they ushered him along. Saying it was time he went and learned, the rest of his song. He wasn't sure what they meant, and it hurt him to leave, but he trusted in their words and their well-wishing ways.

He flew and he flew, arms all but dead. Along came a cloud and offered him a place to rest and be fed.

The cloud was with his family.

It was quickly decided this stranger would have shelter and share in their warmth. The man-boy stayed with cloud family season after season. They showed him their ways. He learned how to nurture the needy with tenderness and care. How winds blown just right can make or break even the strongest of man-things. How to be soft and gentle. How to grow great and dark with a storm held inside you, lightning flashes for your warning, growling rumbles soon to follow. The threat of danger soon to come. How to be still and silent, blowing as the winds take you. The man-boy grew to love them and they grew to love him too.

They saw in him, his lightning, as it was battling his blackened skies. His spirit that was stubborn,
not one to quit fighting. The day soon came, when the man-boy and cloud family, knew it was time for him to go. He would miss them and their different ways. But there was more he needed to learn. Cloud-father left him with the words "A song will only be yours, if your heart can sing along".

Man-boy thanked him and took off, the goal to fly higher still.

He began pondering those words, even as they weighed at him.
"How can my heart sing along when I don't know the words?
I must find the words!", he thought as he flew.

He had vowed to be lovely to look up, and so the man-boy thought of the loveliest thing he knew.
His mind searched and it travelled, far and wide did it go. To the butterflies and their glittering-rainbow clouds of motion, to the sparrows in all of their murmuration fabled brilliance. He thought of the stars in the heavens; gems so much like those he'd left behind and long gone. The loss and the memory, twisted inside him tight and hard; snakes made from shattered dreams and broken glass.
His arms stopped their flapping and he began to fall. For the first time in a long time, he began remembering it all. What caused him to shape his dirty wings; all the tears of burning shame. All the pain he had found down among the man-things. All the joy and love he'd felt once he left that below and behind him. With the thoughts of his journey and the one yet to come, he found the will to flap his wings again; once again higher he flew.

Sunlight shining down from above; began to erase, the tears burning twin trails down his un-pretty face. Blinding him with warm brilliance, holding him in its embrace. He now knew which direction to fly. The sun made everything more beautiful, so perhaps even him. Off man-boy flew to see if it could be true.

So higher and higher he flew. The sun was above him and ahead; so ever westward he went. It sank into the ocean before man-boy ever came close. His heart began sinking as the sun did, his hopes stalled yet again. He swore to try again the next day; found a cloud of which to make his bed. Soon the sun graced the world again, so far to the east. Hopes of beauty to be found began to again live in his chest. Off man-boy flew, his smile renewed in its zest. He flew and he flew and ever closer he grew. Closer he came but there was always further to gain. He flew to the east, and he flew up high. He flew to the west, came back to where he began. Day in and day out, he flew and he tried. Day in and day out, he flew and he cried. The sun ever teased him; offerings always out of reach, if only just. Man-boy tried and he strained, his body burned from the effort.

The wind and the rains bathed him. The sun baked him brown. The flying shaped him strong. The crying rid him of the pain, that had lived in him for so long. He began to hate the sun and its promises; to him in his mind, it had made. Of beauty and being better, freedom from always being so heart-sore. Daily his thoughts were of the sun, and all of His lies. Daily he was consumed with his failures; all of his many failed tries. Daily the sun, rain and water turned his dirty wings into muddy sticks. Daily he had to try harder to fly; notice he never did, no and here's why. He lost himself inside himself as he fixated and obsessed. To wrapped up to notice how he was becoming more even as he became less.

One day his two muddy sticks became one and one stick can't be flapped to fly at all; it was on this day, that he began his greatest fall. The sun didn't blink and he screamed and he cursed. Cloud-family saw him and came to his aid. As they neared him, they shrunk still in place. This wasn't the man-boy they knew; couldn't be who they loved. This creature screaming profanity and filled with hatred; this man-thing must be a mistake. On he fell, confused as they did nothing. Hurt by their silence, confused by their own. Still lower and lower he fell, his bird friends saw him coming; not a single song did they cry. They hurt most of all; for at his silent passing, tears they did cry. The birds saw him and knew him; they knew that they no longer knew him at all.

Still further he fell, ground rushing up from below. As he streaked toward the ground; a falling star, he thought of all he had learned; of the birds and their caring, of their song and his goal of finding his own; that he had left behind somewhere along. He thought of cloud-family and how they made him family, too. He thought of the lessons he had learned, of all of the truths. His own tears began to fall as he realized his folly; all that was shared with him forgotten for nothing. Forgotten in the pursuit of something, he'd already found along the way.

The "Thank you", that spilled from his lips was carried away by the winds. He hoped it would reach the ears of those he loved and he hoped they would forgive him of his man-thing ways. He smiled in sad acceptance just as he struck the earth. It was there they found him in a crater made by his fall; it was there they found him, not broken at all.

He was beautiful and tanned, muscled like a god; as there he sat, broken in the muddy ground. They muttered that it was a shame, a tragic waste and a pity. They couldn't see that inside his broken body; his mind and soul had once again come together; that he was actually for the first time, finally whole.

Only he'd forgotten where his treasures were hidden, no map was there to be found. And he was now stuck with a broken body; nary left an ounce of luck.

But as cloud-family saw; his spirit is strong, not one to quit fighting.

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Simba to my Pride

Unique Poems

Everyday i move on and push my past back to my side ; living life with da simple thoughts and let "no worries" be my guide ; so i laugh at the face of evil even if its jus a disquise ; to da day i look far ahead that i see the answers to my whys ; cuz if i look past all my mistakes i can finally be the simba to my pride -

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was inspired by the movie lion king :) ; comment if you like.

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The One Percent

We are the one percent;
We are proud of it.
We live in brotherhood,
We few.
We entertain the rest,
For if there was no one percent,
The world would be nothing.
We are the one percent,
And we are proud.

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As Queens We Cry Out Loud...(Shequita Phillps & Evolution's of Poetry)


I am a woman first who's tears run down her face
tears of shame emptiness inside this cold heart of minds
just a woman who gives all her love to a man
only to feel like she is not worthy of his love
she feels guilt shame in this cycle of love
a woman that gives to much in love
only for her heart to be broken into pieces
shattered like glass torn up inside
this little heart of minds this love is like a fairy tale
I am a woman who gave this man
everything inside me only to find out
things that I didn't want to know that
were true that came to the light of me

I am a woman who`s soul has been through the rapture
The undying abyss we call life
The subject of loves rejections
Impaled through the heart
Totally confused
Wondering why I chose to love thee
Only to never receive the same
I am woman born to wear the scars
Burdened by my ancestor
Strong black queens of the night
We are taught to look life in the eye
Smile in his face
And never let him see you cry
But how do I hide this love I feel
When you make my soul ache
From just a mere glimpse of your face
Born and bread to stand by my man
Not a weak little punk
Thinking he will soon become a man


A Strong black woman a queen of the knight
a woman who is in fear to open up her heart again to a man
a woman who will not let him see her cry
he will not think I am weak cause I love him so much
a woman who had a hard knock life growing up
from a little girl been molested by her stepfather and Uncle
Confused bout which way to go in life
Broken down
A woman who wears a shield around her heart for protection
and blocks her heart not letting anyone in to love
do to the fact she has been hurt all her childhood life
Now as a woman she releases all of her pain through her pen


My pen bleeds mountains of confusion
As my personification grows cold
As I have a burial For this hollow well
I call my soul
Tears flowing deep
As I overflow with frustrations
Intimidated by the reflections
I see with in my eyes
Whom am I
Do I know her
I can still hear her screams for help
Begging for someone to save her
Only to hear him laughing
Why is it me
Why do I deserve such love
As my broken soul cries
To find away out
My eyes swell with tears of repulsion
Free me please
I beg of you
To look at me and see
Beyond the broken hour glass
As my soul bleeds


See beyond this inner child who has been hurt in so much pain
these tears fall down my face as I bleed out
my soul cries for love understanding
caring that unconditional love
pure true real love bliss
I look in the mirror and see my reflection as a woman
and as I look I see dat inner child broken free to pen all the feeling growing up
seeing how her life took a turn
from all the confusion in her life
slowly mending all the broken pieces
growing up


As woman so many of us face this distant struggle
Whether to love him or leave him
Before he kills us with his abusive temper
There is no more confusion
When I look into the mirror
It is your bitterness i see
So listen up Queens
We have been to the point of no return
Broken down by those who claimed to love us
Holding on to Gods unchanging hand
Is truly a blessing
So look into my eyes as I smile from the inside
No more tears to shed for that abused little girl is dead
Her pain has been transformed within me
Through my many years of struggle
Yes i am living outside your bubble
You can no longer hold me down
Try to control me or even kill me
Because everything that existed
Within me for you is now dead
For I heard my mother say
Hold your head up high child
We are the reason God continues to smile
As Queens we cry out loud

(c) 2012 Shequita Phillips & Cassandra Evolutionsofpoetry Covington

Without you love, Life isn't worth trying

My heart is able to like,
and it is able to adore.

But even with all its might,
It cannot love anymore.

For it was left, broken and shattered,
At the foot of your walls of pride,

I feel so crippled and battered,
For no matter how hard I have tried

I cannot give up on your love,
Though it brings more pain than joy.

Your walls of pride, I shall go above,
And though it is my heart you will destroy.

I will go up your walls of pride, climbing,
for without your love, life isn’t worth trying.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

haha, this is just straight up self-pity poetry. hope yall enjoy

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A symphony of a perfect machine
I think and dream
I conquered nature and mastered my destiny
My arrogance stood tall
I put a question mark on my Creator
But I forgot . . . . .

How a particle of food
Descending down the oesophagus
Seized by the swirling molten acid
In the body of stomach,
Provides nourishment
How the nutrients break down amidst the
Thunder of enzymes and catalysts
Move in the broad estuary
Of veins, slow, flow
Under the rapture of the beating heart
Purified far from the roar
In the abyss’ of bronchioles

And below, far from
The surface agitation

How this particle sustains life
. . . . .

As decades pass, in time unpredictable
When, the grand orchestra of organs
Plays incoherent
The nutrient fails

Now safe, in the asylum
Of a demented mind
Where no loved ones come
I remember . . ..

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My take on our arrogance and how easily we forget how fragile we are. There are quite a few medical terms but can be understood as the poem flows. Bronchioles are divisions of the airways and I used purification instead of oxygenation. Please do leave constructive feed back. Thank you

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Through My Tears

All of these days that have passed me by
wandering, thinking, and asking why?
Why do I have to face these things?
What, in the end will it bring?

I sit and pray, and I ask you how is it
that I can be forgiven for all of my sin?
They say you died. They say you live.
Oh God, they're pulling me back again!

But there you are waiting for me, watching what I will become.
and finally I see...I see that you're the one!

Through my tears I see clearly now!
I can get up. I found the strength somehow!
This is my blessing! This is my curse!
To know that without you it would be so much worse...

I sink deeper and deeper into that hole.
A deep dark place where only evil roams.
Even in there I hear your battle cry!
You come and rescue me before I die!

Through my tears I see clearly now!
I can get up. I found the strength somehow!
This is my blessing! This is my curse!
To know that without you it would be so much worse...

I feel you calling, begging for me.
I hear you knocking pleading you see.
Demons lurking, watching the door
as I sit myself up on the floor.
They attack! I call out your name.
Then there you are saving me again,
and all i can do is cry...
all I can do is cry...

Through my tears I see clearly now!
You lift me up. You are my strength now!
You have blessed me! This is not a curse!
I know that without you it would be so much worse...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is about the battles we, as Christians face on a daily basis...

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Piece of CLoth

It is more than a piece of cloth. Tatered and torn it still holds a meaning of far greater importance than most other things in life. Those who only see it as pieces of fabric sown together do not realize the sacrafice and pain it represents. For in truth each stich represents a man who left behind his wife and children when he died fighting for the freedom of those ignorant people who call it a piece of cloth. Each strand of thread signifies a woman who left her friends and family so those clueless people have the right to say "It is just a piece of fabric it has no value." Those people who can not see past the material value are not blessed with the privelage of seeing what it really stands for. For this "Piece of cloth" represents the lives sacrificed so others can enjoy their lives. It signifies a commitment to unselfishly protect the freedoms of others without discrimination. While its material value is cheap and not worth respecting, what it stands for is priceless. This piece of cloth is more than a piece of cloth, it is symbol of our great country where men and women fight for the freedom of people who call it "just a piece of cloth"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I am proud to be an american and i respect the men and women who fight for our country i hope yall do too.