The DC Summer Word and Music Festival Takes Over Mt Pleasant!


What happens when you give an incredible singer/songwriter and a solid poet/emcee a stage? They decide to bring together a bunch of other fantastic artists and throw a festival!

Plastic Sky and I are working together to bring you the DC Summer Word & Music Festival, combining various genres, styles, and cultures for a series of incredible thought provoking, family friendly performances and vending.

Lamont Park
3258 Mt Pleasant St NW
Washington DC
Bring your Arts and Crafts – Family Friendly
Bring your Goods to Vend!

#NaPoMo – C. Tracy Reads Ahead –

*written after Prince’s “Under the Cherry Moon”*

Question: Does I die in the end?
After I gave you the eyes and you waved me along
When you left me a tip and I played you a song
Your knees, keys
And these fingertips tickling your ivory
Your lips drip diamonds and pearls
After the hair grease and humor
Poems in bathwater and lace…
Will I get shot in the back by some lily livered cracker cause your “daddy” found out
Baby don’t play me!
I ain’t no Sam Cooke LP at the wrecka stow.
I’m a man baby!
Born for 2 things
Stealing hearts and spending money!
Can I keep yours?
Which one?
You guess!
Hell, I need another lover like I need a hole in my head
And fucking with you I’ll get both.
Do I die at the end?
Do you even know
Or do you lie
Sitting in your boudoir
With some guy rehearsing your lines each night…
How you hate me
Yet you love me
In black in white
We in color
Skin the receipt
Let take charge and spend time
The world owes us a debt for sharing this beauty.
Let them pay tribute to a gigolo turned golden boy
and a debutante turned dirty Dame.
So does I die or not?
Make sure they dress me in sequins and heels,
Pray it snows so the Bentley slows down
And have Tricky make the sign…
I be damned if they spell the name wrong on Christopher Tracy’s parade.

#NaPoMo – Unnatural –

Your hand brushes against mine
A bursting bud
Goosebumps ripple across my all
I’m a man in bloom
This beauty is all your fault.

There are a million villages
On the tip of my tongue
Begging to be quenched
By the sweat of your brow
Your summer sweet
A cane field
Sticky and staunch
Waving in our endless sunset

Seeing you
I’m the first leaf to turn
A blazing blush
A burning bush in flesh
Testament to all holy in you
Behind me
A following all willing to show
True colors at autumn’s whim.

Denying the inevitable
Winter comes
Missing you
I’m the last leaf to fall.
The breeze blowing
Our distance
Made clear.

The world’s warmth
A confusing turn
When spring beats like summer hearts
We fall
Piled atop each other like flurries
I melt into you
A snow in April
A tornado on open water
A love storm
Brewing in shared tear ducts.

#NaPoMo – 4.13.16 – A Procrastinators Journal

Things I am doing instead of going to sleep:

Typing this list and pretending it’s a poem

Checking social media

Posting to social media

Remembering quotes about procrastination from High School

Thinking about how shitty high school was

Writing about how shitty high school was

Brushing my teeth

Running my tongue across the smooth pearls calling my mouth home

Missing her lips on mine

Remembering that Bjork line…

“I suck my tongue in remembrance of you”

Choking a little when I try to suck my tongue

Messing up the memories

Thinking about how I have to get up and train for a 5k

Being thirsty in Instagram mentions

Being thirsty in my bedroom

Not going downstairs to get water

Lotioning my feet

Being frustrated by the fact that Microsoft Word has the audacity to put that red squiggly line under lotioning but not under squiggly

Questioning how many members of Microsoft’s staff may be black

Imagining the debate among the programmers on the legitimacy of the word “lotioning”

Rethinking this whole “5k” thing

Reordering this list so that it sounds more like a poem


Staring blankly at my computer screen as I pause for dramatic effect

Realizing that means nothing when you are writing the poem

Even less when someone else is reading it

Realizing that I’ve referenced this as a poem multiple times now when it is simply a list

Of the ways I am completely successful at wasting time

Celebrating my successes

Realizing that some successes are only well dressed failures

Thinking to self, that’s a kinda poetic line

Celebrating that success.


#NaPoMo – 4.10.16 – Of Suns and Gods Alike

How unfair of the sun to make leaves

Cast a shadow over everything beneath them

As if their photosynthesis is worth less;

To say their green holds lackluster meaning;

To allow things to die.

How untrue to itself must this ball of gas be

To make worlds move around it;

Be shifty in skies and provide light

Only to places in its view?

Are not all things deserving of heat;

To know passions glow;

Burst open with joy;

Cross pollinating the skin of all that seek growth?

What injustice for a sun to burnout;

To turn cold on all that grew dependency;

Wreak havoc and devastation in its passing;

To die.

#NaPoMo – 4.9.16 – OD Verse

*My verse from “OD” on the upcoming “NeckAss” Project featuring Droopy the BrokeBaller and Basic The Bassist*

Real Talk, I quit smoking just for work,
Now they stress me out, blood pressure rising for sure,
It’s been a whole damn year; they ain’t test my pee;
Sh** I ain’t never OD off no weed!

Ni**** selling singles, and they dipping the tips,
Ain’t it bad enough, they already “cancer sticks”,
Now you running round naked off the PCP;
But see I ain’t never OD off no weed!

I be late; late for work; late for lunch;
Late for court; late with the rent and such;
I thought not smoking would help with punctuality;
Eff it, I ain’t never OD off no weed!

Now I hit the jay and I’m more relaxed;
Got a good nights sleep, woke pressed my slacks.
Got out the door; made it to work on time.
Homeless dude needed a dollar and I gave him mine;
He bought a water instead of a cancer stick,
Made me smile; at work, joy was contagious.
Everybody on the team was so productive;
Even got commendations from the management.
What I’m saying is don’t be a quitter; light the spliff up!
Green ain’t mean, it’s a wonderful thing!
And if it don’t work out, you can always scream…
I ain’t never OD off no weed!

#NaPoMo – 4.7.16 – Of Math and Memories

*For John W. Karr*

…246 New Jersey…
…Remember 246…

An old man took his last breath today.
When asked to chose between
a doctor’s breathing tube
A friend’s perfectly crafted martini,
He made the right choice.

…246… 246… 246…

“2+4 is 6”
I would have never thought of that.
Never have been a fan of numbers;
They don’t hold memories like words
3 doesn’t fit like trio or menage,
1 only lingers awkwardly wanting to be added to another,
I’ve always loved words
But this is an equation I can follow home.

…2+4 is 6 New Jersey…
The house is full of art and memories;
Peanut sauce and martinis;
A feast of seasons
For seasoned lawyers and career criminals alike.
Jazz and wine are constants
Helping keep the bound books company.
Mixed into wilting envelopes;
Closed cases and new bills;
A clipping from the metro section
“He was always fond of you Dwayne.”
I imagine
God as a master mathematician,
Speaking a language I may never fully understand;
Only glimpses of the design
In digestible blocks
To help move the memories along.

2+4 is 6…