He is my back ground music!
When I move, it’s to the sounds of his adoration for me!
He is my back ground music!
Peeling me open like a banana, he kisses my bruises!
Yes yes he is my background music.
I rock slowly to his roar and fall a sleep to his purr!
He is my back ground music!
Slaying dragons, calling stars, within my reach, to the rhythm of his instrumental climax!
Dancing in a frenzy to a hypnotic beat!
Inciting, enticing, magnetic grooves.
Moving me to the depths of my inner Queen!
Pulling me to the horizon of my destiny!
My background music in the notes of a high sexy, and intense integrity,
Resting before, the entrance of pretty flute notes singing my creativity,
Saxophone solos whispering Gods favor upon me!
Angels singing praises to the woman I am…
Slave’s hums of what I am to become!
I am captivated by the beat!
I roll my hips, and twerk a bit,
Then pop my fingers to the song,
As the world wonders, how I am so strong?
They can’t hear my background music!
So many of you trying to keep the secret.
The X-ray vision of life sees through your red dress,
Your eyes lashes our fake and your hair line is a mess of bald patches in distress.
Why do you keep pretending like you got it all together?
You are held in bondage by panty girdles and quick dry glue.
You are so covered up that you lost the meaning of beauty being skin deep.
Yes you are in too deep!
That make-up does not enhance your current situation.
Skin busted, insides feeling disgusted,
Painting on happiness, and praying for seeds of self destruction to be uprooted.
Promoting false securities with gel tips nails and rhinestones.
None of it is really your own.
Undress! Stand naked and proud!
Displaying truth, highlighted in pink see-through lip gloss
So they all may be lost in the words that you speak.
Shine the light on your inner beauty, so that it may be your halo,
Wear it proud in the middle of the day,
Nakedness glaring like young tits protuding out of a sheer t-shirt.
Close the closet of make believe, and dressed up dreams.
Display your beauty as if you are on reality TV!
In color, out loud, unashamed of the flaws in your life.
Inserting piercings in your scars and tattoo your mistakes.
Let the secrets bare your soul that we might know you.
Yes Yes dear bare your truth!
My New Project is almost complete! I am so excited! Watch the studio video and tell me what you think!!!
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!
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!
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!
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!”
My Valentines Day poem! I decided to recite this one for my readers!
Just click the title highlighted in red, then lay back and listen, let me take care of your artistic indulgence for today!
This poem is dedicated to my number one reader and commentator on this site, Mr. Earl11!
I appreciate you Mr. Earl! God Bless and Happy Valentines Day!
Oh my God, What’s wrong with me.
I thought I just saw a moving tree!
Roots unplugged, walking around in my Gym!
Picking up the weights like they belong to Him!
Y’all, this ain’t no joke!
This brother looks like a mighty black oak!
You know my thoughts, “Run Forest Run!”
The civil war of nature has just begun.
Or maybe the war is only in my thoughts.
This mind of mine, that is going insane.
Placing these images inside my brain.
Where is the scripture that says,“Thou Shalt Not Lust!”
Bow my head and pray, “In God I Will Trust!
Lawd! Help me look straight head,
Hide these trees inside my head,
Chase the thoughts away of buying a King size bed!
I just wanna work out!
Exercise my demons, pay for the things I ate.
It so hard to concentrate, surrounded by “timber!”
Yes! I got a call, as I hold back my game,
Preventing them trees from falling at my feet,
Grasping the flesh, that I try to burn.
I seen a Cypress, a Blue Ash, and a run-a-way bush!
Of course that made me just wanna push,
Another mile out on the treadmill,
Cock my head to the left, to glance again at his frame.
Yup its a tree in deed, strong bark, branches balked up,
Shoulders the perfect place to build my nest.
Arms, the safest place to come in from the rain!
Legs like trunks, I could pack away all my winter thoughts,
What just happen? Please erase those thoughts,
Did he see me stare?
I will just pretend that’s my running glare.
I now understand the temptation of Eve,
Wanting to take a bite from the fruit of the tree!