My New Project is almost complete! I am so excited! Watch the studio video and tell me what you think!!!
I want to win the national spelling bee!
Spelling big words like that movie, AKEELAH AND THE BEE.
Then maybe I could spell a word that would transcend me from poverty.
Maybe I could elevate my status to black women, from minority.
Spelling out my understanding of the roots of my civilization.
Allowing you to understand that before the history of slavery,
We were the Kings and Queens of our Nation,
Building the pyramids you admire and owning the treasures you trade,
As if they belong to you!
Oh yes, I would spell out the truth!
I would spell Christianity with all black words!
I would spell a word that would call out the names of my people,
Whom you tossed in the sea!
Then spell another word that would repeat them in your sleep!
Oh, I would spell out words that would close the liquor stores on every street in the African American Communities!
I would spell a secret breaker of the drug activity,
That would whisper the names of all the profit makers,
Who brought heroin and crack to my community!!!
If only I could spell like that little black girl in the movie,
I would spell words that would allow black men to be free!
Opening the jail doors and ending the sale on justice, exposing sentencing disparity!
If I could spell, I would tell!
That little girl had a neighborhood of coaches!
But in my neighborhood we are big on lost hope, broken homes and cockroaches!
With one wish of a black female, desiring the knowledge to spell,
To write a story of tall tales, murders of seeds, and black males,
Blacked mailed, and robbed of their destiny!
Oh what a story she’d tale if only she could spell!
Oh thank the Lawd, I got a Job!
But at the end of the day, I feel like I got robbed!
Not by the dysfunctional people I see,
But by the people that are suppose to be paying me!
I reviewed my paycheck and it don’t add up,
Cause for every cent I earn, I owe them two bucks!
A penny for your thoughts? Sista I can’t afford to pay,
I gotta buy folders, staples, a battery for the clock, & my paper supply is short,
My mission is critical, I cannot abort!
Danger Will Robinson! Danger Indeed!
I do not have the money to purchase tools I need.
There are children literally dying in the street!
Mothers using the food stamps to purchase their mental treats,
Fathers sneaking in bedrooms where they should not be!
I am paid to protect them, but these fools keep nickling and diming me!
Shorting me on my milage and demanding too much paper work,
to pay me for what I earned, and already spent!
I am worried about these children, but I can’t even pay my rent!
Never paying me for my time or my ability to save lives.
They just keep reaching out and stealing my nickels & dimes.
I am on a mission to provide safety, well being and permanency,
Working with one hand, cause I need the other to stop them from robbing me!
The DEVIL is busy, working a full time job,
Teaching DFCS to write policies to steal money.
Aggravated robbery! Trickery! Thievery!
A bad investment, my social work degree, when I divide it
by student loans, subtract my rent, erase all the money at DFCS I spent!
Thank GOD that I have a heart, cultivated my skills and made them an art.
Thinking past the assignment, and made it a ministry,
Knowing I could never be paid for my worth!
Squeezing my pennies until it hurts!
Protecting children and providing permanency!
All the while DFCS is robbing me!
I woke up this morning and painted my eyelids green,
Like a blade of grass on a rainy day I want my vision to grow.
Like a well oiled trimmer, my hands outlined my eyes with
I wanted my boundaries to stay intact.
Added color to the cheeks as they are the rose garden to my face.
Besides it the cheeks that embrace the smile on my face.
I decorated my ears with green earrings that I might be quick to listen.
Frosted my lips with pink glaze and toned them down with a little brown,
Top them off with a hint of lip glass that they might glisten.
Read a verse from John to remind me where I come from,
Who I belong to, and to quicken the spirit that lives within,
Bow my head and prayed to God that I’d refrain from Sin.
Now I am off to start my Monday,
Remembering that is just one day,
Tomorrow there will be new colors to choose
Okay I am bout to be late,
But I had to take a minute to give an update
Me and poetry, an open display of public intimacy.
I am committed to Poetry like a MIC to an Emcee.
Letters never separate from my thoughts,
I hear the words in my sleep. I feel them in my heart beat,
When it skips its natural rhythm, That’s a new found adjective striking a nerve.
The headaches, really just runaway verbs,
Stomachaches equal run on sentences flowing in my mind.
Alphabet soup streaming through my blood. It’s the L in my Love, the silent E in my cries.
The sweetness in my tenderness, the song in my lulabye.
Poetry and I are in sync. Really in love,
So my status updates or just an open display of my public affection, The ink pens creates my mind’s erection. A harmonic overflow of the longest orgasm of words.
Me and Poetry like my first and last name, We just go together.
Early in the morning I put breakfast on your table,
Now that chick sure aint me!
Every meal we eat is in front the TV,
I am the poor, the whichamickfricken needy.
Tired of y’all sangin these love songs that don’t even relate to me.
Ya sneak up to my door my late at night, wit a chicken dinner and a sac of weed.
In those late night hours, you love my blonde weave
And how everything I got on is in camouflage pink.
Funny how when the sun rises,
Pink is the color of the skin you seek.
Where do you think I got my pride?
How do you think there is a dance in my stride?
Part of the radiance in my shine,
Comes from the whispers of you tellin me, I am fine!
With my legs spread wide and my back arched low,
Your stories build me up to be a Queen.
But when the sun comes up, it’s a different story you sing.
Somehow I transform into that hood-rat chick and crack fiend.
Those voices from the children you hear, are your seed!
Lost in why they can’t see santa,
Trapped in between, drive by shootings, & liquor store lootings, Wondering why they only see a man in the house at night.
In the wee hours of morning rise, they close their eyes,
Praying for a father to rescue them.
I pray for a lover of my mind and my thighs.
Wishing you could see that I decorate myself with pride.
My need of finances does not kill my creativity,
My love of community or responsibility.
You really just took me young,
Left me with your young, and I made do!
While you painted a story that is only part of the truth.
The love song you should all sang is, How I made it over!
Then take a picture of my pink thong ass and it put it on the cover!
Yes. Yes! Pucker up and kiss this lover!
Cuz every Ghetto rock star, rise of a welfare mother,
Older momma that rocks the stage with a degree,
That over-comer is me!
Singing my story, proud of food stamps and income budgeted rent.
It starts with a GED, spins into a master’s degree.
Encores with written books, movie deals and paychecks earned.
Birthed music writers, and basketball players who shoes, you buy!
In every story lives lies and truths, and I am living proof!
Yet sometimes in my mind, that blonde weave, ghetto chick
still exist and she screams with discomfort from the comments
of those who don’t understand the bunions on her feet.
Overworked and tired of the hits,
She wishes the world would just, kiss her ghetto grits!
I fell down and broke my poetry.
Words and rhymes falling out my knees.
Didn’t know that it was letters I bleed.
Stop trying to help me up.
Please pick the W up!
I need it to express how I feel.
Cause the F and the U took a very hard spill.
The BIG G.O.D is always around,
Today He’s angry about the words that I left scattered all over the ground.
Magic Spells, and fairy tales please turn this situation around.
Help clean up the letters leaking all over the ground!
Everyone is reading my private thoughts,
Sorry that it hurts your feelings, but what is that bump on your nose?
Don’t get mad at me!
Everyone is thinking what you just read!
I fell and broke my poetry wide open,
Slow songs slid out, and rap songs started a fight,
Two toes let rock roll loose, and don’t judge me!
What would we see, if someone broke open your poetry?!
Something is holding me back,
Can’t get it off my mind,
Its got me all off track!
I Keep pretending like it may go away.
That negative vibe that’s getting in my way,
Keeping my pen stuck,
Like drying ink, a smudge, a stain on my paper,
I can’t throw it away, can’t move past the stain,
Not enough energy start all over again.
I keep trying to convince myself, that I am somebody,
That the words count, that they will bring life, therefore, I have to write.
Is my gift broken? Is it in a pretty box with a great big bow?
When you shake it, do you hear the sounds of broken pieces?
Or did my voice of inspiration, tire of my restful nights?
All those times, I didn’t get up to write, and move to the girl next door?
Is my self-control lost in the flow of the ink blots?
Is that what it feels like to be cocked blocked?
Not being able to reach that thing you want, desire, burning with fire,
To get inside that creative mind, and write a line that will inspire and change lives,
Hypnotizing with lines, but my creative ink is dry.
Negative forces stealing my mind and my lines, I have been blocked!
No love, No lies, ink pen dry, can’t get next to you cause it is in my direct line.
So my love is trapped and there is no release,
All activity between my mind, my paper and my pen has ceased! Cocked blocked!
Just walked out on my one true love.
Not quite sure why?
Just had so many things on my mind.
Other things began to occupy my life and I felt like I was living a lie.
I heard the sounds, tickling my ears, attempting to form words.
Hearing the beat line up with my heart.
Absent all skills but hooked on the art.
Can’t stay away, had to come out and play in the field of letters.
Build a few words, line upon line.
Till the sentences produced words that rhyme.
Coming together, the creation of poetry, the mad love affair between letters and me.
I just love to play the field.
The Devil tryna snatch my seed!
This dude is a fool, indeed!
Don’t y’all know, I prayed over him when he was young?
Asked God to break the generational curses, before his life had begun.
I will not look at what life has manifested.
Taken in his stupid choices, as if I am being tested.
My faith rest in God’s promises!
Satan tryna steal my peace, but I won’t let you rob me of this!
I just hold on to God’s Precious words. . .
Don’t need a lot to get me thru, I just recite what I heard. . .
“And it came to pass!”
How many times was it said, in His precious word?
Not focused on how it reads,
There is a verb and a noun,
Just waiting on my God, to turn this situation around!
How many scriptures did it set up?
How many fools did it bring down?
A few simple promises, many a prayer, a vision in the night, a prophet declared,
“It came to pass!”
452 times, for those of y’all in need? 452 times is how many it says, “It came to pass,”
I just need one, to show up in my life!
Understanding the power in His word, watching the story unfold,
Wondering why that Devil is, so dag on bold!
Just a test of my faith, and the building of a testimony,
Praise in mouth, dance in my feet, prayer in my heart, Seed on my mind,
Each day that goes by, seems like a dag on long time,
The moment it happens, I’m sure I will rejoice,
Shouting, “he finally made, the most obvious choice!”
“And It Came to Pass!”