Skip to main content

Invisible Tiara (Ted A. Richard-Church Point, LA)


This whole world is a pageant!!

We live our lives in a constant state of judgment, which is why so many of us often feel like we just don’t “measure up”.

 “Are we pretty enough?”

“Are we smart enough?”

“Where do we fit in on that scale from one to ten?”

Yes, our life is a pageant, and everyone is trying to win!!!

But why do we allow others to judge us?

Who the heck entered us in this pageant?

They don’t know us?

They don’t know who we are?

All “the judges” know are what they SEE, and that’s only half of who we ARE !!

It seems like we are always trying to win this pageant in which no one ever gets the crown.

Yes, we all WANT the crown!

But why does no one ever GET the crown?

Truth is, anyone can have the crown…

But is it really that important?

Is a little bit of sparkle on your head really worth all the trouble we went through to get it?

We have allowed ourselves to be culturalized into a society in which the basics of our beliefs and the content of our character are constantly being put into question by “judges” who don’t even know us!

If we live our lives based on the judgment of others, then we will always be free from self-expression!

It is when we truly SEE the person in the mirror, and truly LOVE the person in the mirror that we realize that winning “the pageant” STILL doesn’t make us “the winner” in life.

Life truly begins when we refuse to be a contestant in this world’s pageant.

Once we know that we don’t have to win “the pageant” to win “in life” is when we realize the true value of being our best self.

And true success can only be attained when we realize that the only pageant in life is the one that we create for ourselves,

NOT the pageant that we allow others to put us in.

And as we look in the mirror, we can always say, “That tiara looks really great on my head!”

 Even though no one else can see it !!!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

This Little White Boy Who Wanted Some Nigger In Him (James Leland Ludeau III - Lafayette, LA)

Grew up on a plantation
Removed
Secluded from the world
I knew classes but didn’t understand race
Because what raced through my veins wasn’t something of which I could ever speak
My father could fuck the slave girls
But I couldn’t touch the men
It filled me with resentment
Fueled my resentment with lust
Until it was too much to take
It was a small contained community
White as the cotton in the fields
Only dark around the edges where the black men lived
Ploughing the fields
I’d imagine them ploughing me
Sinewy
Glistening with sweat as the sun bathed their shoulders
The sweat running down until it pooled around the waistband of their thin cotton pants
Their skin
Black, almost indigo, like night
Some like coffee with milk in it
Cafe au lait
I could smell their musk
Watched as their muscly bodies worked
I yearned
Burned
This little white boy who wanted some nigger in him
To fall beneath the weight of one
As he heaved
As he forced his throbbing cock into my crevice
I longed for even the pa…

Poet's Cry for Mike Tidewell (Barry Sons - Berwick, LA)

I heard the Politician say in a hunter’s whisper, “There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. He was crying about the marshland’s accelerated decay.”
“Mr. Politician, can you help us anyway? I refuse to think our marsh is so quickly Going away. If we can scan the galaxy And bring men back from the dead, Why can’t we save our marsh? I can’t Get that around my head.”
There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. Whining and crying; Who needs them anyway?” “Mr. Politician, I’m here to make you feel. Try to wrap your heart around the things that Are real. Like love and friendship passion and Sorrow; the love of earth and concern for tomorrow.”
“There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today." Mr. Politician, I cry for America’s wetlands,

God Will Cry (Louis Toliver Jr - Swartz, LA)

This is your soul trying to connect to you for last the time. We have come to the final crossroad in our life. This is the end. These are our last earthly breaths.
From this abuse of yourself, we will both die. You will be a rotting corpse. I will fade away into Darkness. People may mourn your death, at first, but you will be forgotten, while I am left here molested by the hands of Hell.
God will cry, “My child didn’t fulfill her purpose.”
I’m begging you; don’t do this. It has been a slow ride, a slow descent to suicide.