It is A Shame

A horrible shame

So many people are eager to make amends but

So many people are far too willing to hold to a grudge

So many are far too willing to punish over the silence

Playing God in their own spare time

So many are able to save but would rather

Watch the story on a screen

Making Angels out of superstars

And superstars into Queens

It is a shame that we look at responsibility as

An orphan

The last one picked for the team

We tease it’s hair and chant,

“No one seems to want you.”

But only to ourselves

We love to pretend it is a friend

But it is a shame

The things we say about it

Only to ourselves



To Dine Near the Roses

I found peace in a tunnel

Just to show how creative the darkness can be

I found happiness on a bridge

Just to make a way of light

Happiness in an alleyway

Happiness in a tomb

Life on the lips

Life in the womb

Brilliance in the wreckage

Survival at the gravesite

I didn’t cry the usual rivers

I didn’t pray for over the rainbow

Didn’t bother the shadows

Or the chair in the middle of the road

It’s nearly dinnertime

And I am famished

I want to know why I cannot

Dine near the Roses in bloom

It is nearly breakfast inside my mind

I want to know why

Lunch seems to hurt a bit less at noon


The New Tenant

There’s a girl in my apartment building

Don’t ask her any questions

She will not answer

Not even a name

Not even a name

She Is convinced

Everyone is in some way


Covertly operating

I smile at her often

But she is the kind of girl

Who is unimpressed by smiles

I assume she’s seen too many fake ones

Too many bright white teeth

That form fences for snake tongues

And vocal cords that vibrate with deceit

She passed me a note today that read:

“I am not your enemy. Look elsewhere.”

It is the coldest thing I have ever received

Before a warning or an eviction notice

Before a plea or an act of bargaining,

a fuck you first and foremost

A declaration notice


(Photo found on pinterest)

Two Days to Coffee

These are the things we now know..

On a good day,

Grandpa sleeps 5 hours.

A creaking knee has more music than an old jukebox.

A pulse can beat as fast or as slow as it wants to.

After 48 hours, coffee without sugar is just fine.

Discovering these things involved quite a bit of research

And a little spontaneous creativity.

Granddad says he’s done fighting with the night.

He is convinced,

It is the absence of the sun that keeps him restless.

Due to this, we drove west for hours,

Straight through the canyon wall

And past the lakes of browning water.

On only one tank of gas,

We rode deep into the wild wilderness

Just to find a place where he could rest his head and bad back.

“It’s not the back,” he corrects, “It’s my

Hip today. Maybe the hinge is broken or

Maybe the old in me has feasted on all of my oil.”

I love the way he sees himself as both naturalized

And vehiclular when he self-diagnoses.

To me, he is a spaceship covered by the clouds.

Most days he is grateful his eyes can match the sky.

Most days he lives to eagerly tell tales of

his beloved wife, long gone and buried.

Most days he says he misses her smile

But he is in no rush to see it again.

This makes me laugh.

Even in his gray experience,

He is sensible and refined.

He looks young enough to travel the entire world

A few more times.

Afraid of nothing at all but the Lord above,

He looks like death will never reach him

Without a signed permission slip.

There are no accidents in his sight.

I hold him close to my heart and

For the first time in my life I

Hear him speak about the pains of age

In a way that makes my foot ease off of the gas.

We slow talk one another well into the night

And all the way up to a pink-orange morning.

Our tones rise and fall with the sun

Much like the music we avoid.

What’s the hurry anyway,

When we are moving without a sound destination?

I imagine we are not making vault-like memories.

I imagine there is no thoughts of reminiscing moving into the future.

We are just taking ourselves on a drive

And listening to how loudly his knees can

creak in a bouncing car.

We are two days in before he dozes off to sleep.

His breathing is so light and even that

Periodically, I have to check his pulse.

After a few miles, It doesn’t scare me to do so.

I am grateful he is able to rest in spite of all the potholes.

For 5 hours, in his absence, I listened to the truck engine hum.

I made friends at the rest areas.

I ate kettle cooked chips and drank rootbeer.

I made out the shapes of clouds.

I read the signs along the roadside.

I compiled them into a book inside my mind

Until I became expert at signage and

Mile marking.

Somewhere on the horizon of the second day,

My grandfather awakes (again without my grandmother),

But he is still happy to do so.

So happy that he doesn’t complain about the back or hip.

He clears his throat and asks for coffee,

As if he is right at home out on the open road.


(Photo found on pinterest)


It took five years of diamond mining and

An in-depth documentary about the blood trials

To know how the families survived.

Truth be told, there is no innocence and

No time to look into the coal that is charity.

The narrator said that truly, the gems were worthless.

Still, the soil is stained with blood from whisked bodies

and the earth is left with deep holes in it.

There is a girl, in my social deviation class

With long curly hair and deep eye sockets.

She waves her left hand in the air when she

Has a question although she is right-handed.

I noticed,

Right next to her naked pinky finger,

There is a large but solid stone.

It sparkles and shines against the lights,

Adding extra wattage to the room.


Our professor asks the class,

“Who can tell me a story or give me a

Good example of necessary sacrifice?

One made for the good of the whole?”

The curly haired girl thinks she knows.

She thinks she is bleeding from her hand.

She is eager to tell of the things she feels

Beneath her diamond.


You Are Enough

Sometimes I say this in the mirror

I wipe hot tears and remind myself

They are not a bad thing

There is no useless water

And if they are all that comes out today,

They are enough

You are enough

Sometimes, as I wash my body in the shower

I pretend I am, not under a waterfall,

But fully present in my own home

I write the words in the steamed mirror

You are enough

You are enough

You are enough

Sometimes, when the days are long

And the world spins me like a top

I stare into my palms and tell them

You did enough

I grab my own ears and tell them

You’ve listened enough

I pat my legs and reassure them

You’ve carried enough, travelled enough

I wrap my arms around myself and ask,

“Do you feel this? This is your home.”

And I know in my heart, it is enough

There are days when the darkness hovers

And it is adamant that I avoid loving myself

It tries to convince me that

that is a job for someone else

On those days,

I sing the words loudly,

I write them boldly,

I chant them repeatedly,

I color them brightly,

I make them into poetry

I press them into my mind deeply

“You are enough

More than enough

So much more

So much more ..”


(Photo via pinterest)

Let Them Eat Cake

Today I want to celebrate

I bought a cake and had it decorated

It reads, “You are not the monster.”

It is red velvet and cream cheese

With a kitchen knife, I slice it

Into an oddly-shaped and uneven piece

But it tastes like a perfect slice would taste

Perhaps the blade cuts the contents all the same

No matter what the flavor

Under a magnolia tree

I eat with my bare hands

There is icing underneath my fingernails

There are cake crumbs on my blouse

There’s a blade in my back pocket

And sirens in the background


(Photo found on pinterest)

Casually Wandering Through the Wonder

Have you ever had a day

Where you just wanted to feel safe?

No threats from the anxieties of the outside world

No unstable states of mind

No advertisements for sickness

Imagine real health in a really healthy world

A heart-conscious reality

Where the body can relax for a change

A place where betrayal (especially of the self) does not occur

Imagine a day where you’re not battling inwardly

The brainwaves are smooth

The laughter comes easily

There is no such thing as brainwashing or

Energy vampirism

There is no such thing as hatred and

No grudges to be held, they are too heavy

There is no such thing as mental slavery

And no such thing as rescue because

No one gets lost

No one gets abandoned, there is no abandonment

There are no wars to fight

And no poverty to rise up against

There is no racism or discrimination

No rape or child abuse and no blindness

There is no hell

Just peace and comfort

Sometimes I sit and wonder

Would a world like that be heaven?

What would it be like to experience?

No negative thoughts or behaviors

No punishment theories or escape rooms

No traps or snares. No dilemmas to solve

No illusions and no cries for help.

Is it the pain that both stops us and keeps us going?

How necessary is pain to growth?

“My body and mind have been as

Prepared for peace as they have been

For war.”

I read that in a veterans magazine article

And it made me think, man

If peace was right in front of us

Would we even notice?

Would we be too traumatized to

Even recognize it as a friend?


(I do not own the rights to this image)

Lotus Lips

It was at that very moment,

The one where we lost our religions

And found ourselves floating,

That I realized I could love you.

I could fill my heart up with your energy.

It took more than coaching,

It took more than believing in

The possibility of an unbelievable God.

It took more than just a moment

And in that moment,

You looked me in the eyes and mumbled,

“This is infinity.”

Instead of just agreeing like a “good girl” would

I inhaled your words into my universe.

I let them roam their way through me.

I let them float in space alongside us,

Even though I wanted to can and steep them deep

Inside makeshift Mason jars.

I wanted to keep them clean.

I wanted to study them until they too realized that-

It took more than just accepting their opinions.

I know tone- I know metaphorical metamorphosis,

But speech is futile in the presence of such

A foreign and undomesticated form of forever.

I can’t count the stars falling from your fingers

But I can count on you to point me towards them.

I can count on your breath inside my mind.

Holding me by the ear, you whisper

“What if prayer is simply the call for restitution?”

And it makes me smile to hear you

Speak about things like that,

Things that challenge the sturdiness of life.

I do not contend you even when

Mud seeps from the dirtiest of your words.

I do not pretend to be strong and silent

When your lips are shaped just like the lotus.


(I do not own the rights to this photo)

The Watched Pot

Sitting on the living room floor,

Knife in hand,

She is cutting okra,

She wonders,

What kind of love

Turns a moment into a memory

Perhaps trust is the fairy dust that

Keeps the birdplanes flying

And the pelicans full

And the cropdusters are helping the fields

And not rattling the home walls early morning

They are spraying the land

with alternative medicine

Her hands are wrinkled

Her nails are cracked but she imagines

The kind of peace treaty

That makes it alright to put the slippers
Underneath the left side of the bed

The kind of agreement that

makes her continue on,

With a smile

Even when he calls her

by another womans name
Even when his knife

Is too dull to help

Or his pressure too high

And the raw crunch too loud

Or the pan too well hidden atop the cabinets

What chill makes the chin quiver

When the watched pot is too slow

To come to a boil


(Photo Credit: Amber Wilson)

So…Whats Up With the Wig?


Locs, braids, scalp shaves, chops, waves, growth phase. Headwrap, cold scalp, fingerwave, razor blades. Chop, Chop, Grow, grow, learn, earn, flow, glow!

soul glow

My hair is the hardest thing to keep track of because when spirit moves me to change and evolve, I go and grow accordingly. I started my natural hair journey in 2010 with a BIG big chop. I was in crisis within my self-discovery process and was aching for change. Turns out that was the beginning of my beginning.

So what’s with the wig? Right now, I am in transition..for the third time, (but third time’s a charm right?) I went to one of my good friends, after cutting my 3 and a half year old locs myself, and cried in the barber chair (internally). I was ready for change and the universe demanded that I move without haste. Sometimes the appearance is the best way to get our attention eh? So I had it shaved it into this..


Products I am using right now:

  • Coconut Water
  • Aloe Vera Juice/Gel/Leaf
  • Rosewater
  • Castor Oil (For Thickening)
  • Black Soap (For Cleansing)

I keep it simple these days because it is SOOOOOO easy to become a product junkie and the way my pockets are set up, I have better things to invest in. Besides, the first two times around taught me a lot about myself and what truly works for me so we will see how it grows goes this time around. This should be exciting right? A fresh start, a fresh look and lots of love and optimism! I dig it. I am feeling happier, free-er and sassy. It’s all good. I cut my locs on September 1, 2018. Just for future references. I plan on experimenting a lot with color and shape although my intention is always health (not necessarily length). So If you want to take that journey with me. Stay tuned.

Peace and Love lovers!!!!!


A Brief Intercession

Before we go any further

It must be said that much like pleasure,

pain is universal

which makes healing a universally

necessary act.

across the dimensions

The bravest of the beings step towards it,

holding the index fingers of the wary,

if they were too skeptical to extend their whole hands.

But knowing that an index finger is not mere and

it is more than enough, the brave parts, sometimes yank and pull,

other times they patiently coax and coach.

I love to hear:

“It is alright my love, 

you do not have to claim the title of brave 

in order to be it.

You can just be and see what happens next..”

we are truly never alone

This is an aha! moment that can be shared

across the galaxies

this is a welcome home party for the other in you




(I do not own the rights to this image)


Perhaps the helper follows you home

Back to your respective dimension

Perhaps something reroutes the mind

Without your consent

Without needing permission

When it is caught, it says,

“Relax, I am helping you learn to endure.

Calm down, I am teaching you to love.”


(Photo not owned by me)

When the Feelings Connect

He said, you cannot be your feelings

Feelings are what you have

Not what you are

But sometimes the feelings turn me over

They move me around in my sleep

Shockng me to life

They bite me near the veins

And sink into my skin like venom

They course through me like blood

(The grown up and inherited kind)

Fought by the singular identity,

They are free and radically sifting

Through the once and twice removed container,

If I am not them

They are not entirely separate things

They are still a part of me,

They are down-the-line related,

Fractals of relativity

Somewhere on the inside

They are roaming like lost signals

Trying to be found

Trying to connect


(Photo not owned by me)