everyday zoul

everyday zoul, zoul poem, zoulful outlet

neptune in pisces


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still and ever and again and again I am
shedding myself of this skin
shuddering off on the daily this slowly thinning web
sometimes 5 years old, 99 years young and 23 years crazy at the same time
I’m guessing this is to figure being
until or before we learn breathing slow n being kind
more and deeper

we are bred into boxes
we learn the workings of numbers
before the workings of our bodies + minds + souls
and taking in the love
…only the love
and filtering out that b*s that isn’t spirit
yeah you heard me right all that stuff that isn’t pure,
non soul shit,
because I’m all about that soul
mmhmmm baby
whether it be in music
whether it be in bones
Imma let that soul lead the way
that humming
that inherent, tremblin harmonizin
rhythmically crackin
vibin voicin

I have been painted on
in straight lines
by eyes who don’t see colour

entered a world wherein
many wish
and few know
that we have already arrived

I have come into a space
where people carry ears
but have lost sound
and few still hear
the soul speaking
through walls of concrete
but to the few that do hear
thank the heavens for the few
(literally)

(without you
it’d be much harder to be on this side
of the spheres)

everyday zoul, summer, zoulful outlet

midsummer husky


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I write with my hair up when I need to get sorted
I write with my hair down, when I… am. 
today I am compromising
I wear a hairband
the roots pulled back tight
the ends down loose
so I can type rapidly without strands flying
swishing it back when I need a head shake,
let it free

I lost my voice,
Midsummer nights eve
it’s lovely
the more no talking
the greater my perception
the more I could hear
and see, scent, touch and taste 
the more I was
present
appreciatin’
not the lack of voice
but the fullness of sensing

lack of wording, logic, intellect
=
heart full, mind quiet, soul full
soulful

blissful expression 
turning not into words but 
inherent body language
intuitive instincts
alike a child letting a glance tell all I need
a sway of hips
a turn of lips
a head kick back with a sassy,
“mmhm”
isn’t all that so much more significant
than words?

it is not silence
when all senses expand
and I am
singing with all my soul…

everyday zoul, zoul poem, zoulful outlet

Up in the air heart bare messy hair


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Maybe it is
That I am a Sunday blood woman today
Maybe it is
That I awoke at 6.39am this morning
Despite no alarm
And every other morning since
Getting home from Cape Town
I have not been able to push myself up at 7.30
Despite an alarm
Doesn’t that say something
That if you let the flow know for you
You let the flow flow what it knows
Then you will be up at whatever time you body needs

The anticipation
The expectation
Ruins what can be natural
What can be a Sunday flow
Maybe that is
How every day could go
Flow, know, flow, and go

Sunday used to be the day before Monday
Now Sunday is just a Sunday
And I am by myself
Messy haired in a bed where I’ll sleep
For two more weeks
23 years old on the 23rd of April
Smelling of peppermint and rosa damascena because those are my decent smells
My Sunday smells

I am in a house not necessarily called home
But I am home
In my body
Thank you, woman body,
Flowing with tide
Blood of potential life
I am grateful to even the pain

Where’s my mind
Between the lines
I’m just fine

This Sunday Sunday