KING 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!

Playing the Field

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.

It Came to Pass

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!”

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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!”

Still Searching

Looking at a map of the Great United States.Autosave-File vom d-lab2/3 der AgfaPhoto GmbH
Plotting a route of the trips I’d like to take.
Skipping over poverty, been there way to long!
Jumping over sorrow, my my I know that song!
Racing past pity, I have seen all I need.
Trying to obtain my destiny without visiting greed!
Can’t visit any forest without planting my seed,
For if not for us, there would be no evil deeds.
So many places to go, So many people to know,
So many things to give, I just wanna live, in Honesty!
Stand in Prayer! Sleep in Peace! Give without limits!
The state of the States, Crime! Poverty! & Hate!
Planning my trip, without the baggage of mistrust,
Not wanting to pack, “please don’t hurt me again!”
Forgetting on purpose, “I thought you were my friend!”
Leaving behind anger and despair.
Where I am going, there’s no place for you there…
Running to greet, Jesus is Lord!
Two helpings of Faith in my suitcase!
Sitting on top so i get in, “In GOD I will trust!”
Makeup bag filled with Love,
Left the lip liner on the bed and painted my lips with Mercy & Grace!
Packed determination in my carry on to assist in the race.
Dreaming of my trip! Where will Destiny take me?
Understanding that I have survived.
Yet knowing that I have not arrived!
I am still searching.

Gone On & Talk About Me!

Speaking life is always right!
Yet, I find myself holding my pen real tight,
trying to direct the flow of my traffic.
Creating your death with my words would be so tragic,
You’re trying to assassinate my integrity behind my back,
bad habit!
Running your mouth,
Like shooting bullets from a gun,
rapid fire, as you desire, to murder my character!
Then smiling in my face…
What an actor!
What a disaster!
Then I read,
“Have you considered my servant Job?”
I realized that you created a scene for God to bless me!
Why are you acting like you are from the Twilight,
THIRSTY,
for the blood that covers my life!
Don’t you understand,
He has already paid the price!
I just dabbed a little bit behind my ears.
Place a smidgen on my wrist.
Show the price tag to the devil and declare,
“Pass over this!”
You can’t shop in the same stores as me!
You can’t shine like my stars!
All my labels are the same brand,
“Victory!”
Understanding I am still not worthy!
Underneath the blood, the floss, the gloss and the weave,
pain healed, weakness made strong, wrong made right,
cause He gave His life!
The Glory of God must look good on me!
‘Cause you cant seem keep your mouth off me!
I just hold to His words,
“Have you considered my servant Job?”
So talk if you must, in God I will trust!
Waiting with anticipation for the restoration,
from your destructive seeds, that set up the scene,
for God to bless Me!

Master of the Universe

I am Shera!
Master of the Universe with my Sword of Protection,
Its the Word of course.
Call me Wonder Twin Powers,
Cause when I speak words, they activate.
Speaking to the universe, is how I create!
Like Wilma and Betty, I have a battle cry.
I yell “Charge!”
As I dot you in the eye,
With the power of life, spoken from my tongue.
Doing it the way God did! That’s how the world begun.
Let there be light! Because He is the Source!
Enter into the light, because darkness has run its course.
Like the Night Rider, I am a Night Fighter, but Kit does not know the way.
My GPS, God Protection is Set, on the course of My Destiny.
I am a SuperHero with a moral code, and royal clothes, draped in liberty.
Except there is no magic powers, I have just been redeemed!
There is a Ghost who lives inside of me.
His name is not Casper but He has set me Free!
I have x-ray vision and the power to foretell!
For my God holds the future and He knows it well!
No fairy dust, no make believe, just the power of spoken word.
Mock me if you dare, there is a noose for your neck, a grave for your corpse.
You won’t escape His wrath, by plane, car, bus, or horse!
He parts the sea, speaks to the wind,
brings disaster and destruction, as I smile and grin,
eat dinner, and climb on your backs to straighten Mars,
Blinded by your envy, you still can’t see,
Don’t make Him Angry, or you will see green!
There is no make believe creature hidden inside of me.
Just the power of God that resides within.
So I will end this story, the same way it begins!
I am Shera!
Master of the Universe with my Sword of Protection,
Its the Word of course!

Taste The Rainbow

If I could taste the rainbow and the color of it sweetness.
If I could taste the mystery of all of its uniqueness
I believe the end would be bittersweet.
A taste so worthy, yet so far out of reach.
If I could taste the rainbow, would it be the flavor of Emmit Till’s
whistle, or the words he spoke to the white woman at the store?
Tell me why is it such a chore, to obtain the freedom we are fighting for?
Jessie Jackson  developed the Rainbow Coalition.
I’m not sure if he was led by God, or his own intuition.
Maybe marching with the King, robbed him of any inhibitions.
His attempt to PUSH the rainbow and create a Safe Haven,
A place for little black girls and boys of Chicago to play in.
A political platform, so to speak.
But black children in Chicago are still dying in the streets.
I find myself still chasing a taste of the rainbow of his dreams.
Brown vs the Board of Education was suppose to end segregation,
Yet, the division still exist.
Marked by the poverty lines and tax dollars,
Unfair testing, and no books for the poor.
Why is it such a chore, to obtain the freedom we keep fighting for?
Chasing the colors of the rainbow, wanting to taste equality.
If I could taste the rainbow that Martin Luther King dreamed,
Non-violent and united we’d stand, tasting the sweetness of the rainbows in the land.
Mr. ROY G BIV, when will you give us a chance to live?
I know that black absorbs all light,
So our color is not seen in the prisms of light, but we still fight!
Fighting to be recognize as Women and Men.
Not judge for the color of our skin.
God promised never to destroy the earth with rain again,
That is why He created the rainbow, to remind us, never again!
Yet you can’t see killing us as a sin, because of the melanin in our skin?
We can’t enjoy the promise because you keep enslaving and slaying our men!
Slaying them with nooses, guns, and chains.
Slaying with them words, media and fame.
Slaying them with disrespect, segregation, and incarceration.
Killing our voices in the sounds of the storm,
Yet no rainbow exist in my window pane.
Only the names of the black men that you’ve slain!
Emmit Till, Medgar Evans, Martin Luther King,
So many other whose names  we don’t  know.
Now Trayvone Martin, murdered for wearing a hoodie and desiring a cold ice tea,
Gun down in the street. Stand your Ground? There is blood at your feet!
He was simply trying to taste the rainbow. Yet, I will not admit defeat!
I want to enjoy the taste of the rainbow, in this life time!
Enjoy the color spectrum one color at a time,
Smell the aroma of the colors and savor the essence of its presence,
Feeling free to walk down the street, and taste a rainbow in the flavor of peace!

I Hate A Thief!

I hate a Liar! But I absolutely despise a Thief!

The Thief, one who steals all things precious, dreams, and ideas.

Taking the gifts of love ones and that which God has birthed in you.

Stealing prize possessions and the feelings of  love, hope, joy, and admiration!

Leaving you only with memories of that which was lost and feelings of violation!

Never being able to recoup or replace that which was loss,

The Thief then trades your precious valuables for worthless, self gaining monetary value.

Never being able to gain the worth of the gift given to you,

The thief attempts to ordain themselves with your gift as if by possessing your items, they are some how worthy!

I hate a thief and the perpetration of fraud they carry.

I am angered by their attempt to assassinate the feelings, dreams and destiny assigned to me.

Somehow I am sure that God will punish your bold irresponsible premeditated attack on my life by taking that which was purposed for me.

I only hope that He will soothe the anger that I feel and replace it with love.

The Love in which He bares, loving those that are wrong and extending grace to those who have offended Him.

I pray to Love you again as God loves you because I am  a daily benefactor of this Love.

But in this place, on this day, at this time, Lord forgive me, Because I hate a Thief!