Hey There All!!! If you are following this blog, then you probably know that I am a writer. I've been sharing my poetry publicly for nearly 15 of my 34 years of life, and I'm finally ready to release a book. So I don't have the money myself to publish, so I've made pre-orders available … Continue reading Pre-Order’s for My Book Are Live!
To A grandmother; In the twilight years after you've watched your friends wither away, You begin to look at life and see yourself surrounded by graves. I can relate. From the grandson who Arrived in the 80s, Watched his friends die in the 90s, And prays his students don't waste away now. You need to … Continue reading Letters to Grandma
We put limitations on what we can do according to time, saying that there isn't a lot of time in this life When the only thing we really have it time, the longest thing we can do in life is live.... Older lady at bus stop One hand clutches to red marker as if a … Continue reading Red Marker Epiphany
I. He’s no longer a man No, demoted to a sack of blood and marrow shards Wrapped in sinew. Dangling like post-celebration piñatas. His plasma, dripping jelly-like from the center of this pastry. “Nigger had it coming; he gandered at that white woman down the way…” II. Our first kiss was a drunken maelstrom … Continue reading Race Relations in 3 Part Movement
I'm not enough to get you flowers every Monday, Chocolates every Friday, love poems every Wednesday To get you over the hump. I not enough to bring you peace, Or a piece of peace. A minute slither of peace of mind is extra hard For me to find so why settle. You settle dust … Continue reading I’m Not Enough
Dear 10 year old Marsha Adams. Thank you for everything. I've been in love With the idea of being in love Since your Lightskinned fine ass Told me in class that you likes me. Just as the teacher called on me, To do the fractions on the board. And lord, how I hate math. Especially … Continue reading Dear Marsha Adams
None of us are what we seem. Covert artist, shrouding our passions in secrecy. We have mastered hiding our voices like government expenditure records. But just off the hill, there is a basement that knows us as superstars. Pinstripe suit jacket Soul singer in yuppie disguise. Miniskirt lush sharing her soul in Janis Joplin bellows. … Continue reading Superstars and Washed-up Dreams
…Passion it always starts with the passion… We live our lives sonnet-like, Strict rigid reserved She is a quick kick of free verse. Flashback Morning amnesia fades…. Last thought while walking away… "Are we really the bad guys?" Flashback A long embrace, arms are anacondas squeezing the breath out of this moment. One last … Continue reading Flashbacks
Who made the open mic a slam? The artists say the host. The hosts say the audience. The audience says the promoters. The promoters say the venue. But the venue just wants to be paid. The promoters just want to fill the room. The audience just wants to be entertained. The host just wants to … Continue reading Who Made the Open Mic a Slam?
Dear Universe, Sometimes you are called God; All-knowing presence ever-present, Sharing insight and guiding our path. God, I could use a trail clearly marked. Footsteps to place feet into. Direction, a compass, coordinates for success; My own personal destiny to manifest. Dear God, Sometimes referred to as Universal Power; the vast opening, the grand vapidness, … Continue reading The Descent to Genius – Chapter 1: Seeking the Help of Something Greater than Thou.