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love her. love her. love her.
you are waiting in between-
ans Meer
to the sea.
i learned how to speak seven languages by the time i was young. they were not what i thought they should be.
in each one, the word for world had no other meaning.
der Welt, mein Herz is a terrible terrible place.
is this why we flee? на море to the ocean, to the sea?
when i said language, i did not mean русская or deutsch or română; i meant a different sort of words.
how to show fear and regret and to speak angrily, with no remorse.
crying long hours, how you say, like the rainstorm.
there is no native language for grief because we are all fluent speakers.
there is a grammar for happiness that must be learned.
when i was smaller then, not of body but mind, i asked how you knew it was really the sea.
how it was not simply the red overwhelming everything else you saw.
i do not think i was really asking about the sea.
even know i do not know if the sea is what i mean when i say it is what we are all seeking.
weltzsmurch we are all world weary.
perhaps the sea is red because everything else is blue.
and the question still remains- if i say happiness in one language will you understand the meaning in another?
please understand i mean no harm.
für mein love, my love, my love, the sea my love, my dragoste my love, to see my love my love my love, is red.
in a place between words we cannot communicate and somehow we are all waiting in between.
спасибо, there is a way to reach the ocean from here.
is there an ocean everywhere around us.
in my mind the sea is red and my mind the sea.
a language of neutral patterns, waves, timing and frequency.
i cannot seem to rid myself of the sea and the sea cannot rid myself of me.
from speaking in a manner of many words i have only learned this:
the word for world is weary of being used in such a small manner.
and we have yet to set out on our own infinite sea, the red one we wade through.
of cut down trees and men. in every language the word for hatred is spelled like knife in back, in throat, in heart you do not have.
hatred is the killing of something not your own.
a small body rests am Meer too tired to know the consequence.
we are the word for emptiness and conscience.
we the only word that matters.
the sea is red at our feet.
Today I am trying to elevate Black voices. For me, poetry has always been a way to express my truth. Sometimes my truth is beautiful and sometimes it is ugly, but has always been mine, and poetry was how I told the world. These black men and women use poetry to express their truth, and the world needs to hear it. What happened in Minneapolis was a result of years and years of the same thing: white people believing that black lives don't matter. That black voices don't matter. I know I can never do enough to heal the wounds of what white people have done in the past. But I have the responsibility to make sure that black voices are heard today. Because Black Lives have always mattered.
Throw back to about a year ago when we weren’t in quarantine and I was thriving kinda sorta <3
Preformed at my city’s first slam and came in second place…and met the mayor…and got a gift card to a book store…like– could it get any better?
You can’t love the things you never hold, so soften your fists.
Meta Sarmiento - “Watch Your Mouth”
One of the submissions from our first-ever video contest. Keep an eye out for our next submission period, open soon! Help bring Button to you.
(via buttonpoetry)
“The truth hurts less when it is not parading around in front of us.” - Sabrina Benaim
Download Sabrina’s poem here!
“Humans always want something from you, and he and I would just rather be together than apart.” - Neil Hilborn
Check out this throwback track from the very first Button Poetry Live!
“This joke that I heard in Arabic hurts just as much in English, and French, and in any other dialect.” - Emi Mahmoud
Download Emi’s poem here!