GMO’s

I am just a pile of dirtWrapped in flesh

Hoping that the dung in my life 

Will fertilize my earth.

I am a God Made Original

But birth in sin, I have been 

Genetically modified,

I try to hide it, little lipstick,

Part my lips, flash my smile,

Slight tilt of my head to the left, 

Now I got you wrapped up in flesh. 

Genetically Modified Organism

It’s not just the fruit! 

We been changing our nature, 

Done dug up the roots! 

Replanted our purpose and left out the Holy! 

Lifting our hands and forgot the praise. 

Looted the church to justify our ways. 

Chemically changed our behavior,

A little sugar, a dabbed of THC. 

Oh chick u ain’t crazy!  

Pour my Hennessy! 

Turn up the music, 

Turn up your legs,

Turn up the grind,

Who needs to pray? 

We are the new generation! 

Genetically modified organisms,

Musicians without soul! 

Feeding the nature of sin,

But calling ourselves Christians

Naked before the Earth

Rising from my bed, standing naked before the earth,
Recognizing the universe to which I gave birth.
Yet, I still search the land for the man I call my king!
Praying that when he sees me he will recognize his queen!
Forming pseudo relationships trying to fill the gaps,
As time escapes, each moment counts as years, in the universe I created.
Regrets and emotions filled with lustful thoughts and wishes of,
I didn’t do’s.
As I reflect on the time I bent and broke the established rules.
Disappointing those that believed I was a queen,
Lost in scriptures and behaviors that were meant to define me.
Now sin and time spent has become my mask,
Covering the virtue I possessed and trying to hide my past.
Not worthy of the love I seek, no strength to obtain my goals,
Praying for my God to reach out and make me whole.
I cover my body with the earth and return to my rest!
Feeling the cold upon my chest, I allow myself to dream.
Dirty and bruised I fall a sleep, still dreaming of my king.
Hoping still, he will find me and recognize his queen!

KING ME

Vacation

I really want to take a cruise with you.
So I can see how easy you ride my waves.
Better yet escape to the amazon so I can climb your trees,
Hide myself in the shade of your leaves.
Lets take a plane ride and get high on the essence of your presence in my life.
Vacation from you?
Id rather end my life!
Kill myself!
Rather, than be absent from you and the wealth of the fantasies you inspire. Perspiring like an addict with the thoughts of leaving you.
Feigning for the next moments that I can spend with you.
Sweet is the taste of your kiss, lying in your arms,
I can’t resist.
Escaping on a erotic vacation, deployed to destination joy, embracing the memories of you!

A Grown- Up Conversation with God

My New Project is almost complete! I am so excited! Watch the  studio video and tell me what you think!!!

http://youtu.be/XXKr0go9ITI

If Only I Could Spell

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!

Nickels and Dimes

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!

The Ghetto Kiss

assThe Ghetto Kiss

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!

Cocked Blocked

DSC_7607I feel like writing,

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!