I exist between the spaces that bind your thoughts

A presence that remains relevant through triggers

Siphoned through your mental lapse, 

Failed to categorize me on the landscape

That is your mind.


Two islands, we are, independent in our dependence;

All I write of you, is a single line, just the way you like…

Verses illustrate the sequence my thoughts are attuned to

Affection, Feelings I hide; fear or caution, relative

I only hope the way I make you feel comes close

To how you make me feel.


– Original-Dante ©2017


Art by:  ryky




1,000 Followers on WordPress.

Thank you, dear readers, and as a means of celebrating I recorded one of my most liked poems D_enial.

This is the first time I’ve used my voice on the blog, kept procrastinating but, I can’t think of a better time than now. So I made a new Youtube channel dedicated to my blog as well as everyone who has been with me from the beginning. I will be voicing poems whenever I can, any requests are welcome 🙂



As I, take a break from daily happenings

Introspection, elseworld reflections, all open

No filter or lingering undertones, a gate

To the venta black abyss, in which

That prolonged gaze either makes me stronger

Or weaker, predispositions being the determinant.


Been caught off-guard, unforeseen sides 

My darkest shades, spilling over into the outlier

The vessel, merely a moving image, 

Nihilistic approach to my thoughts, 

Questioning the essence of existence

Sating the appetite of bringers to my fragility.


Mind Palace, glitches, becomes a prison \\//Habit\\//

Not content with, such an ending, I use a medium

That best defines, me, grip that fiend 

By the throat, turn this prison into a war zone;

Will to fight alone sets chasms ablaze,

Turns the darkest crevices of the mind, Into

Perhaps, the most habitable.


The mind is yours and yours alone

Darkness is persistent, and Light

Is all we need strive bring, to this universe

And the next;

Fight, dear reader, fight,

Never settle.


– Original-Dante ©2017


Art by:  ryky






Patience is elastic

Until intentionally stretched, tested,

The longer the sentence, the lengthier

The thought process,

No matter the time, nor the place,

Thought conveyance runs miles, around

Our sphere… Well…

Until Ink runs out.


– Original-Dante ©2017




Art by: ryky

it’s always something with these black women

I love my daily dose of magic.


too small
too tall
too loud
too proud
too narrow
too wide
too polite
too uninviting
too stiff
too rhythmic
too aggressive
too passive
too mysterious
too open
too dark
too light
too humorous
too serious
too bitter
too sweet
too calm
too quiet
too oblivious
too aware
too smart
too ugly
too fine
too weak
too strong
too joyous
too black
too comfortable in your own body
taking up too much space

The short of it? LIES
The truth, though, your beauty is undeniable. That’s where the too’s come in. We’ve been denied the right to bebecause the others fear what cannot be boxed and labeled to their standard of comfort.

Black woman, you are perfect.
Black woman, you are the closest fleshly definition of perfection. And Black man, you are right there beside us.

It’s Always Something With These Black Women © 2017 KB Wright

View original post 10 more words



Love, such a majestic feeling

Somewhat surreal, connecting, 

One on one; Heart to heart,

Been so long gone, history, archived,

Semblance of feelings is a memory.


I am, what you choose to see me as

A man, an alien, don’t pop a vessel

Lying to yourself, racking your brain

Ask me, I’ll tell you, after you

Bear witness to my penmanship.


Illustrated a dialect that left them beyond torn

Flicks of the wrist turned night to morn

Bonfire in my journal, embers blown in the wind

Materialize and bring to existence another piece,

Another piece, I move on this checkered grid;

E2 to E4 — King-side bishop to C4 — Queen to H5

— F7— Checkmate.


– Original-Dante ©2017


Art by:  ryky




Paced Affection #Revisited





Space …

… Back-space





I Like You.


– Original-Dante ©2017


Art by:  ryky





Choose to go through life’s motions,

With that haven, that escape — flower fields, 

A beach, by the glossy sea for some,

Relative forms of escapism, 

Mind palace describes me,

A portion of my intellectual capacity 

Reserved for the development of such.


And yet, with no motive to escape,

And the palace, still in place,

It was no longer choice, but routine,

To visit with no real cause

Stands to reason,  

That it eventually dawned on me;

The castle I’ve been building

Is actually a prison.


 – Original-Dante ©2017


Art by: ryky




%d bloggers like this: