It's All LOVE!

So,

I just want to start with the disclaimer 

that 

I’m trying to turn broken pieces 

into peace so 

I lead with love.

And when it’s all said and done

I WILL LEAVE WITH LOVE! 

But let’s be honest for a minute though

Sir,  please don’t get mad 

because 

If you get “story time”

I get to write this poem 

And if THIS is who you truly are

Then I’m lucky not to know him 

You.

Who I was nothing but kind to

You.

Who’s faults I was ignorantly blind to.  

I’ve got a STACK of your red flags 

that I’ve collected over time

And though I was understanding of your issues

You barely tolerated mine

So I throw in the proverbial towel

I wave my white flag

I find solace in knowing

I gave it all that I had

I count your fuck ups as favor

I count your loss as my gain

I count this lesson

A blessing

Won’t make this mistake again

I keep my vibrations high

And keep my energy clean

Keep my chin up and know

Shits not as bad as it seems. So, 

No apologies needed

Since I’m the one that’s to blame?!?

But, bro the way that YOU handled this?!?

Was nothing but lame

You put the story on blast?

Just to make light of the sh*t?

It didn’t make me look bad

Just Made YOU look like a bitch.

But you’re right though.

It’s not the end of the Earth

It’s just fucked up of you

To not acknowledge the hurt

That you caused

That you fueled

That you dug up then left

And I could try to talk to you

But it’d be a waste of my breathe

So good riddance, now

Ain’t no sweat off my back.

Ain’t no forgiving, no crying 

Cuz man fuck all of that

I’m on one

You were too.

Cuz your temper erupted  

out of the blue

I’m all done. Yeah, nigga I’m through. 

And it’s still all love 🙃

But FUCK YOU! 

My Poetry Is Not For Your Entertainment

This piece was inspired by the gentleman who sat next to me a few weeks ago at an open mic and asked me if I were going to perform. When I said no and asked him the same question he answered with “nah. I just came to be entertained”

I looked at him and told him I didn’t like that answer and we dialogued about it. And although I was unable to articulate, in the moment, why I considered his comment offensive.. I told him I would write about it.. When I sat down to write, I was unsure how my thoughts would manifest themself, but this piece is the product of that writing.

My poetry is not for your entertainment.

My pain doesn’t bleed as ink on these pages for your amusement. For your oohs and aahs. Your snaps and claps.. this is not some fucking puppet show. These are my feelings. These are my worries. My stories. This is my life. This is my joy, my peace, my.... therapy.

My poetry is not for your entertainment.

This isn’t Saturday night live. The late show. Comedy Central (is Comedy Central still a thing?) 🤷🏽‍♀️

I digress. 

My tears don’t fall down my cheeks because I want to make my poem look “real”. Nah, it’s because I feel every word that escapes my lips, I inhale every vowel

Exhale every consonant 

Sometimes you get my personal shit

Sometimes I try to make you cognizant 

Of what the fuck is happening in the world

But the one things that’s constant 

Is that my poetry is not for your entertainment.

It’s not shits and giggles or laughs and gags

I don’t bare my soul for the right to brag 

This shit is real to me

It’s a big deal to me

And whether or not you feel me

It heals.... ME

and though i hope helps you too

I don’t give a fuck if it’s entertaining.. 

I didn’t come to entertain you

I don’t write these words 

So that a mundane you

Can find humor in the shit that I’ve gone through 

The men who’ve wronged me, the job I hate, 

The family that’s stressing me or the fact that i can’t wait until being Black is legalized.

But I don’t even want to go down that road tonight. 

I just want to bring to light the fact that my poetry is not for your entertainment. 

So don’t just come here to be entertained

But to receive postitive energy and emit the same

Come for the vibes, come for the healing, come for the exchange 

Of ideas, and passion. And pleasure and pain

But please.. do not insult my art by saying you came to be....

entertained?!??

MY POETRY IS NOT FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT

Untitled

Someone once told me we must 

“Give God control during times of peace or BEG Him to take control during times of chaos!”

This week, for me, has certainly been marred with chaos...

Yet, still, I do not beg.....

If you ask me why I’m angry

Then I will tell you

I will say

That under the umbrella of anger 

Is fear

And there’s so much that I’m afraid of.

And I will tell you what I’m afraid of.

The dark. 

And not the dark that comes 

when the sun sets and the moon rises. 

When the stars light up the night sky.

But the ABSOLUTE absence of LIGHT.

Where light is synonymous with love 

And love is an intangible

Unreachable

Unimaginable 

Thing.

If you ask me why I’m angry 

Then I will tell you

That I have lost more than I’ve gained

And the storms don’t seem to end

When finally lets up the rain

The wind slams me down again.

And I’m afraid.

That I won’t ever be able to stand 

on my own two feet

Without the rain pounding on my face

Or the hurt beating in my heart.

And I can’t hardly see the LIGHT

For darkness RIPPING me apart

And I am ANGRY

Because anger is synonymous 

with FEAR

and I am terrified. 

Of the darkness lingering here.

I wait for morning. 

It’s always darkest before dawn

& after mourning

Comes strength & a will to carry on.

I AM the LIGHT

Despite my troubles- Big or small

I am not anger! 

I AM the LOVE that conquers all.

“Poetry is so much more than just an outlet for grief and overthought.”

I remember when I declared that I would not write another word from a place of hurt, even if it meant that I would never write again. I didn’t write a poem for years and when I finally picked up my pen again it was because my good friend, JohnnyRay, challenged my journey. I’d said that I wanted to “find my center” - whatever tf that meant 👀 - but JRay asked a pivotal question that taught me that it’s impossible to find your ‘center’ if you refuse to acknowledge what exists there - be it sadness or grief or joy or peace OR WHATEVER. At the core of my existence was a heart full of hurt. I have taken all of that hurt and managed to flip it into unbounded love, and joy, and grace, and peace. For EVERY tear I’ve EVER cried, God has given me a reason to smile (and I’m sure I’ve cried a few million tears in my life so that’s just as many smiles). My life is not always an open book. It doesn’t need to be. No one needs to know all of the bullshit that I have survived. What you need to know... is that I SURVIVED. 

FOR NOW, that has to be enough...

I said I would never write another word from a place grief - and I won’t - because I want the world to see that there is just as much LIGHT as there is darkness, as much joy as there is sadness, and as much HOPE as there is despair. Fuck darkness. Fuck pain. Fuck grief. Let LIGHT be the focus... LET LOVE BE THE FOCUS! If you want to know anything about me know that I am imperfect and flawed and elusive, overly emotional and hella complex, but I am gentle and compassionate and loyal and giving and genuine. 

FOR NOW that has to be enough.

And if it’s not... Well, then... I’m sorry!

A Change Is Gonna Come

Good Morning.

It's 7am here in Hong Kong so I say "good morning", though I am fully aware that for those of you back home, I should say "good afternoon". I landed in Hong Kong about an hour ago. After spending 13 long hours in the air (ok, the hours weren't THAT long since I slept through most of them, lol) I deplaned having made the decision to spend as much time WRITING while traveling as possible. That said, I opened up this blog and was ready to do just that, but uhm... Nah. I started reading what I'd previously written on this here outlet of mine and thought maybe I should start something new. You know, since I'm in a completely different place than I was last time I wrote on here. I'm conflicted by the thought though. I don't want to erase it and start completely over. I mean, I know full well that you can't just delete your past though that's what it feels like I'd be doing, but I feel like some things we should be allowed to outgrow and move on from! *shrugs*

For now, you'll find this random "talk piece" amongst my poetry, but I reserve the right to start anew sooner rather than later. We'll see how it goes. Welp, I'd better go board my next flight. More to come! Ciao


KNG

Resurrection Day

Years from now

When we can't remember your faces

We will still remember your names!

We will still remember the pain

That, like blood

Coursed through our veins.

The anger incited

Each time a victim was blamed.

"Young thug in hoodie armed

with Snapple and skittles"

With storylines that read like riddles.

What do you call a Black man

selling loosies outside a store?

Breathless

And what do you call a people

Who are sick and tired 

And can't take any more?

RESTLESS.

We are agitated

but our agitation, 

Much like our Brown bodies,

is short lived.

We follow the stories 

for as long as they trend

But our angst seems to end 

Almost as soon as it begins

We aren't angry enough

Don't take it personal enough

Aren't willing to speak up

If it doesn't directly affect us

But we should all be activists.

We should all be mad at this!

How sad is it

that we can't walk home, work, play...

Can't drive our cars, go to school, pray

There are no safe spaces for us

And there's never any justice for us

Just more hashtags for us

Just more bodybags for us

Candlelight vigils for us.

Protest the injustice? & 

They send armored vehicles for us.

We have got to B-more careful.

As the old saints would say

"We've just got to be more prayerful", 

But I've given God more than an ear full

And I'm not sure He hears me 

He says 

He'll never give us more than we can bear

But my tank is running on empty.

StephonClark, MikeBrown, SandraBland

Who's next?

Me?

We carry these little Brown boys in our bodies

We birth them into a world

That sees them as nobodies

That is dark

And carries hatred for them

And we pray for the best.

But even that doesn't seem to see them through.

They are soldiers 

In a war that they never asked to fight

And 

Our worst nightmare...

They will become casualties of it.

We will stand watch 

Over their graves

And cover their tombs

With our tears.

We depart and 

When we return three days later

They will still be there.

Lifeless.

There's no second coming for them!

Spring in New York

Your love reminds me of Spring in New York
One day it's hot,
One day lukewarm,
and then suddenly...
Ice cold
Your inconsistency I've come to expect
Learned to accept
Though I often regret
That I didn't prepare for it
That I knew it was coming around again
And still
I was there for it
Wanted to love you so bad
That I simply ignored it.
That I
Ignored me
Closed my eyes so that I couldn't see what i didn't want to see
Deaf ears because if I don't hear you walk away
Then I won't have to ask you to stay
I won't have to acknowledge
That
Your season in my life ended two Springs ago
And your April showers did not bring flowers in May
There's still nothing but clouds in my sky
Rain in the form of teardrops still fall from my eyes...
The bags beneath them carry the weight of the damage you've done
Of the pain that you leave behind
And I prayed to God asking for healing
But He told me healing only comes with time
So, for now
bags still weight heavy on my back
And my entire wardrobe
Is a mountain of black
Because I am mourning.
Mourning the me I used to be
Before your shortcomings
were blamed on me
Before your insecurities wore off on me
Before I fell in love with you
And somehow fell out of love with me.
How in the world did I get here?
Coming to California and losing myself
Was my greatest fear
And you told me
I had nothing to be afraid of.
No, there were no boogeyman under my bed...
The only monster was you.
And now,
The other monster is me!!
Because I won't let anyone get close to me
Close enough to hurt me
And it's killing me
Because I am so damn worthy
But so damn afraid
Your love reminds me of Spring in New York
Empty promises of warmth
And really,
I could liken your love to the coldest winter ever

Winter

Autumn's been gone a while now.
Spring can't come too soon.
Summer is too far from reach now
So I'm left with Winters' blues.
It's so cold out here,
That light and love have frozen through.
It's so dark out here,
That I can barely see
you?
Do I know you?
Are you still like warm apple pie
Fresh out of the oven?
Sweet on my tongue
& soft on my lips?
Do I know you?
I'm piecing together fragmented memories
Just to salvage a glimpse.
A slight reminder of what was.
Re-memories.
Remember? me?
Smooth like honey
Hot like tea
Healing like great grandmother's remedies.
Winter, you have overstayed your welcome.
There is no room for you here.
Winter, Go on and get out now
Make room so Spring can draw near.
Because I'm tired of being cold.
Because it's a cold that warm sweaters
and peacoats can't warm!
A cold that fireplaces and brick ovens run from.
It's a cold that love fears, and pain hugs
That hugs pain... and fears love.
And cold medicine doesn't fix that!
It can only be cured by the warmth of the Son.
And it's been raining for what seems like weeks now.
And your clouds have been blocking the sun...

Autumn's been gone a while now.
Spring can't come too soon.
Summer's too far from reach now
I'm left with Winters' blues

Grandmother (Mayhall)

I cried for months after my grandmother died.
Whether from sadness or guilt,
I'm not sure which!
I begged God for forgiveness
And wondered if my absence at her funeral
Hurt her as much as it hurt me.

I was 14.
We'd been living in New York for 7 years-
Maybe more-
Mom, Sister, and me
But I still couldn't call it home.
Because to me
Home was Lake Valley Road on weekends!
It was Sunday school
Followed by Sunday service,
and
Dairy Queen if were well behaved.
It was rice pudding-
A secret recipe that remains secret to this day.
Home was the smell of grandfather's chewing tobacco
Though he hadn't been alive to chew it in years.
It was Sunday dinners at Big Mama's
Meetings with papa &
Playing with cousins.
Home was FAMILY!
Home was Mayhall!
Her two long plaits
Her smooth brown skin
The way she hugged me, and held me,
And I felt safe.
Grandmother forgive me
For not coming to say goodbye.
Forgive me.
For not asking why separation of parents
Meant separation of children too.
From everything they once knew.
Forgive me for not asking
Why I could travel to Virginia for basketball tournaments
But never to Atlanta to visit home.
Or why concrete playgrounds became replacements for
Tree lined parks
Or
Even
Why my father couldn't see me anymore.
Forgive me for not being BOLDER.
Not even once I was older.
Old enough to know better,
To reach out.
To write letters,
Or pick up a phone and call.
Forgive me for trying to "stay in a child's place".
Forgive me for not trying at all.

I cried for months after my grandmother died.
Whether from sadness or guilt, I'm not sure which.
I begged God for forgiveness,
And wondered if my absence at her funeral
Hurt her as much as it hurt me!

Water

They say you never miss the water
til your well runs dry
And the tears you cry
Are not enough to end the drought.
The flood of forty nights of rain
Are not enough to ease the pain.
Scorched earth that lingers
Long after memories fade
If
They ever do
Water, where are you?


They say you never miss the water
Til your well runs dry.
And well,
Yours is parched.
Like cracked clay in the sierra desert.
Void of water that quenches.
Dehydrated Dirt,
The Earth,
And You.
You,
Counting molecules of hydrogen.
Two.
Oxygen.
One.
Searching for relief from the
Scorching of the sun!
Water, where are you?


They say you never miss the water
Until your well runs dry.
And you've been drawing back
Dry buckets for years.
Depleted for years
Defeated for years
But too prideful to
Admit what you fear...
If you don't find water
Extinction is near


Because no one can survive without water