My first Chapbook!! Support the Poet and the Project!!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Angry: Where are the Real Ass men?

*Panting uncontrollably*
*Exhibiting fury across my countenance*
*Tears of faucets leak onto my cheeks*
*Cracking knuckles like rain erode cements*
*Blood pressure bursting like volcanic eruptions*
*Face filled with blood like a girl’s pad on her menstruation*
*My body begins to shake trembles as if I’m seizing*
*My feet begin to stomp harder than Greeks do when their stepping *
*Muscles are tenser more than a body builder flexing*
*Teeth clinched tighter than a girl’s vagina when it’s virgin*
*Screaming at the top of my lungs louder than crickets cricking in silence*
*Rhythmic walking back in forth more in sync than a boy band*
*Spewing curses more than Spiderman ever did his webbing*
*Eyes become engorged with blood faster then my uncle’s transfusion*
*Eye brows arched higher then McDonalds*
*Nostrils flared wider than a prostitute's legs are*
*My chest rising higher than the highest point on Mount Kilimanjaro*
*My stomach in knots more constricted then boa*
*My mind is racing faster then a speeding bullet*

These are the sensations
That actually happen
When I’m in bouts of anger
I dubbed this reaction
I never want to get this point ever
But all these motherfuckas
Keeping testing me
Like I’m a high school student
Taking the SAT
I’m a grown ass black woman that’s fucking angry
Not for an ordinary reason
I’m furious
Because its seems like
Boys are no longer growing up to be men
They only see one side of the tracks
When rappers are rapping
About women being bitches and hoes
Treating women worst then a thorn bushed rose
Peeping through cement in the projects
Its shame today’s generation of men
Are stuck with mindsets of adolescents
There are dudes
Still playing with childish things
30+ years of age
Still playing games
Us women, we want a wider
Selection of real ass men
Not afraid of claiming their responsibility
Not afraid of getting a job
That’s worthy of a resume
Not afraid of stepping out on faith
To accomplish his dreams
We want Nubians Kings
This isn’t the hardest request
That for some reason
Can't be granted
To the men that are at home
That’s really the reason why I’m fucking angry
Get off your ass make yourself something
Be the man that was created
Son of Adam, Moses, Jesus, Martin, Malcom, Dubois, Booker, and Barak
All the men who paved the way for you to stand on a foundation
Step into those shoes
And be the rock
Stop being afraid
Break the Willie Lynch Mentality
Your mind and your body are strong equally
My brothers
Realize that you are Heaven’s ultimate creation
Civilization wouldn’t have been created
If you didn’t have one less rib
I’m tired of being angry
By seeing less and less real ass men
It’s not too late for you my brothers
To change my anger into pleasure
Because I’m optimistic
My son and his son’s sons for generations
Won’t miss this lesson that I’m teaching
In this poem that I’m spitting
If you’re a real man in this audience
Stand up and
Proclaim your existence
Then, go and grab the next boy
And transform his presence
From a boy to a man
Before it’s too late
And real ass men reach extinction!

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

RE: Snake Eyes

What up Everyone!!

First and foremost, I pray that the Lord brings you peace and happiness!

Secondly, Snakes Eyes is a fictional poem that I wrote in response to a situation that I heard about a young girl having sex for the first time and contracting the virus HIV. The story really sadden and angered me to my core. As a writer, I try to take myself to a place where I can live momentarily vicariously through others to be able to tell their stories, and with this piece, Snake Eyes, I did just that. This piece is an example out of many that God has allowed for me to write to reach the masses.

Snake Eyes

With his eyes he bit me
With his slick speech he gushed venom into me
This time by him and his lies I was weakened
Fell to my knees
Thanking God for sending what felt like the one
Believing that the game he spit was sincere
So I left my anti-venom magic serum at home
I walked out the house unprotected
Into me his slid this fang
So carefully not hurt me
But spiritually he killed me with every thrust
Because when he came
He released death on me
With every strand
6 months with no side effects
Until I picked up a cough
That wouldn't seem to subside
It never crossed my mind that
He infected me with HIV
Until I caught pneumonia
And the doctor's science had to put two and two together
I couldn't believe my ears
Wished that my fears could turn into April fools jokes
I asked the doctor to come again but
The same dreadful lines he spoke
I'm sorry Ma'am but your HIV positive
The anger within me began to rise again
Feelings of loneliness
Because I haven't seen that
Nigga since
The sixth
When we commenced
I've been murdered
In my days of living
If you can't wrap your mind around it
Just listen
I had sex once
The advantage of my virginity was snatched from me
Because this nigga knew
That he had HIV
When he had sex with me
But still he had me chasing water falls
And he allowed for this virus to sing praises of my final song
21 years old
Now my is life gone
Swallowed by a man whose intentions were wrong
I should have listen to my guardian angel
She sent me signs
But I was too desperate for love and
So I ignored them
Now I’m quickly approaching my death bed
With nothing but the verbal memories called lies
And his physical memories called SNAKE EYES!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Heaven's Poetry

I’ve lost my mind
And I don’t know where to find it
Because it’s been carried away on this mental exodus
Called Heaven’s Poetry
You see He took my worldly mind
And replaced it with that of poets that came before me
Like Langston Hughes, Zora Neal Hurtson, and James Baldwin
Just to name a few
Because if you’re a real poet
Then you would know
How long the list goes on
I’ve lost my sense of direction
Because I’m so caught up in writing
That I get lost just thinking
When this pen writes it’s not me
Its mechanics
Some how my fingers know how to print letters
Without me even commanding it
From my brain
Cause I’m a robotic
Tic tock I don’t stop
I’ve lost sleep over this art form
Because there’s no specific time to create a poem
As poets we are on God’s time
So when He says, “write my child”
I awake from my slumber
Ready spill ink onto these papers
At moment’s notice
Until my fingers crumble
Humbled I will forever be
To be blessed with this art form called poetry
Without it I swear I would be 6 feet deep
As a child I couldn’t find myself
I’ve lost my way
And I had to one to confirm who I was
Trapped inside misery
The end I couldn’t see
As if no light would shine upon me
All I saw was darkness
Until I saw this composition book posted under a light beam
Curiosity killed the cat
So I decided to grab it
Every since then it’s been my best friend
It’s been there since I came out from the pits of death
It’s been there since I emerged into success
With the titanium "S" engraved on my chest
Yes, I’m going to make it
Yes, I’m going to make it
Yes, I’m going it make it
That saying is like my favorite song constantly on repeat
That affirmation has allow for me to find who I am
Amongst this jungle of others
Making my away through these human bodied serpents
Trying to ingest in me their ill-fated poison
I’ve lost everything else but not my anti-venom
Because all I have to do is spit one line at them
They go down like the Domino Effect
My top five like to T-mobile
Is carefully selected
Because you can gauge how far you’ll go
By the company you keep
And I’m going far, so God takes up all five seats
I will forever be lost with in this world we call earth
Because in Heaven’s Poetry God has already found me

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


People need to understand that I don’t want no fucking handouts
I’m a grind for everything until my fucking hearts stops
Because I will make it to the top
Just watch
When I show you
How a kid from jersey
Can make millions spittin poetry
With or with out a beat
Once people get a taste of me
They will see
That I am the truth
Then, they will have no choice, but to follow me
And cop my books and my cd’s
I agree with Talaam Acey
When he said, “Come to spoken word and get your inner self seduced/
'cause what else can move your inner self out side your self like the truth?
I’m tired of hearing cliché poets
Writing shit about poetry and how much they love it
Because if you love it so much then spit some real shit
So people can get knowledge
This is a gift from god so don’t you dare waste it on that foolishness
Trying to get some of the white man’s dividends
Spitting poems about how much you killing folk
When you never even seen a glock yo
That aint your story
But you fabricate it
Just so you can get that money
You doing an injustice to all the people needing encouragement
There are Gods words
From the realness, how dare you change them?
As a real spoken word artist
I’m a stay within my blackness
But I will reach others
Because the things that I say
God spilled onto these fuckin papers

Spiritual Renewal

The mind is a tool of deception
Built to cause the trichotomy
Of the Mind, the Soul, and the Body to fall to destruction
Meant to make you think you’re in a state of depression
But your heart becomes your resurrection
Your saving grace and your salvation
Listen to your heart and you will make it to the end
Think with your heart to allow the body to come alive again
Because God’s in your heart, so He can amend those deep dark feelings
Trust in God and his Bible- His living stamp of approval
Because it’s been proven to give people Spiritual Renewal!

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Dream Big People!!! God is Good

This song has been speaking to my spirit lately and I had to post it for you all!! Carpe Diem!! Seize the Day!!!