Write something
Pinned
16d •
@2026 Modern Day Slavery
I am; I said I am not ready to die. Phantom, this most times the cuffs are invisible but in reality, we are chained to history the thought of slavery really gets to me The density that settles into blood, teaching every soul to bow, while heads are hung low. I lay in the water wondering why? I hang from a tree saying please while no one hears me , all laughter until it's pure silence Protect and serve, that's what they told me. So why did you kill me? Hate crime on FaceTime. Now tell me when the friend line begins and where it ends? Watch out, the Niggers is back on the bus line. They say as above as below so is this what's going on above? Let's question that. To be shackled to the ground is to be written in the dirt By the very ones who hold the ink to the paper No longer quiet executions Just the bold words of I loud and proud. Pure theft is what I see; I hate you while screaming loud on t.v. I would love to take your children, eat your food, but I am scared of you. How dare we play the fool The earth below does not comfort; it consumes They speak progress in digital tongue of algorithms weaving light from the air seamless but yet polished the ancient iron stays where it was slung. it is not merely metal on the skin - it is an anchor driven through the bone A silent mandate made of stone to be tied to the earth is not to grow why, because the roots are forced, the soil is that buried lives with so many lies we have already reached the sky Delleesa Harris this is a rough draft, not finished, not put in order but thoughts
1
0
Pinned
Jul 9 •
How Do I? / poem
How do I say I want sex without being told it's too much? How do I express what I like without being told, hey, you're doing too much? How do I express my sexual mood without touch? How do I express that magnetic pull you have on me? Like a glass that's too cold and cracks when the fluids are in it. Small leaks that turn into big ones like heavy storms and if you don't know how to swim, sure you will drown. How do I say I want to be sipped on like a fine glass of wine I'm sure you know how to take your time. Like being at the beach teaching yourself how to float while learning to do backstrokes. Seems like you are starting to understand what I mean when I say take it slow. How Do I? Tell you to sit on the couch, grab my favorite ice cream, top it off with whipped cream, put it in the places that can't take the cold, let it drip a little go-ahead babe be bold. How Do I? Say grab that rope, tie it tight and squeeze my throat, pull my hair don't be shy. Smack my ass while I hold it high. Dip in, pull out, dip in one more time, pull out, turn me around make my levels go high, Bring a friend, and no, I don't mean your twin. That vibration that has my head spiraling again. Sucking toes and ass holes much more to be told, But How Do I express without being told you are doing too much? Poem Delleesa Harris 7/9/26
9d •
Twin
We were born on the same day the same time oh! how much we look alike you and I. We grew together, sharing the same mind, we would even speak at the same time. That's what I thought at one point of time inseparable you and I.
0
0
13d •
?
Can your heart beat laughter Do your veins have a gut feeling Do your smile have thoughts Can you walk inside your brain Do your brain take showers Can you talk in water Do air have lunch breaks Can you liver survive on sand Can teeth walk on ground Do stress have family reunions Can your nose see life after death Do your eyes smell life activities
0
0
29d •
The White Around His Eyes
He doesn't chase the wind the way he used to. He watches it now, like an old friend passing by. The gray around his muzzle didn't arrive overnight. It came one season at a time, alongside every adventure, every muddy trail, every stick he proudly carried home as though he had discovered treasure. His steps are slower now. The stairs ask a little more of him. Cold mornings settle into his bones. He sleeps longer, dreaming, I hope, of fields where his legs were young and every sunrise promised another adventure. Yet when I reach for my keys, his eyes still shine. Not because he wants the longest walk just because he wants to be with me. That's the beautiful thing about old dogs. They stop counting miles. They only count moments. A quiet afternoon beside your chair. A gentle hand resting on their head. The sound of your voice saying their name as if it has always been the most important word in the world. One day, I'll notice he doesn't hear me call. His leash will hang by the door, his bowl will sit untouched, and the house will somehow become far too quiet. But love like his doesn't leave with the footsteps. It settles into the floorboards, waits by every doorway, rides beside me in an empty passenger seat, and reminds me that the greatest hearts sometimes beat beneath four paws. Growing old is never easy. Not for us. Not for them. But if love leaves silver around a muzzle, then he has earned every single white hair. And I would choose every one of them again.
1-30 of 314
