Truth

Prone to apprehension increase your comprehension

Son of a prophet selling your soul to market

Surrender your identity to media exploitation the rotation continues with each imitation.

Blasphemous. Art is life but what’s dead can’t be recreated when the craft is in slippery hands.

In God we trust. Slandering innocence upon dividends dining on their diligence bastardizing citizens: these are your politicians.

Snakes in the grass attacking the mass onslaught of unsuspecting. Oblivious to the neglecting until its shoved in our faces.

Switch places with the unawares out of obscurity temporarily advertising our own purity

When the system is biased to protect the non-compliant those policymakers bending laws just to break us

We rise then fall swifter than mister could steal a dollar from our pocket we are the American profit

Benefiting from keeping us ignorant brethren we are not. United we can’t be. Plotting on our brothers and pillaging our sisters does not equate a family tree.

Spiritually unaroused stirred feelings reflect nothing of our Creator who made us then saved us only for repetition to condemn them. To end them. Commit them as felons who are we?

Woe to those refusing nourishment suffering self-inflicted perjury the cycle continues. We demonstrate self-hate in different venues.

Whether it be sacrificing our temple to undeserving men, leaving behind no legacy for our children, or counting our value through monetary spending.

Even more ironic is the image of a black man, in a hoodie and timbs although iconic is not my killer. No sir no sir.  

The clean-shaven man in a pinstripe suit my people failed to keep out of office stole my life when none of them voted he elected my existence conditioned no protection. So when my people dismissed the election the ink in his pen signed the dotted line to my death sentence.

I’m walking dead until the marksmen orders my kill. Positioning no place for me in the justice system, my words they can twist them, my people they can symbolically lynch them by sending them to prison.

Statistics don’t lie they don’t like my kind.

 Experimenting diseases on my people, introducing drugs and other evils, numbing our brain cells by hiding education when we’re not even equipped to seek it.  

This is our hell chasing heaven in chariots that are programmed on the wrong path leading to our destruction.

I can’t sit idly by knowing that the golden rims don’t spin for my entertainment this is the arraignment prepared to distract me from protecting my people’s constructions.

Why do my sisters concern themselves with whose prettier when there is a war on our unborn babies. Our  wombs become tombs when they fail to teach us the worth of a lady. Growing up idolizing Barbie dolls who lack our complexion we missed that lesson.

And mothers love your sons with the undying affection that lies in your heart so hopefully they grow to respect what we have to offer, and the cycle stops.

You won’t win my soul by teaching me apathy, America.

You can lie to an entire nation but I see through.

These words that I spit on this stage, and live every day until my last breath is made…is my truth. 

Social Injustice

Troy Davis.

Trayvon Martin.

In a year’s time frame, killing me is the project.

Erasing memories of royalty when my daddy was king and mommy was the queen.

Blurring color lines to define more white less hue less you more waiting for our time.Denying my shine and in the meantime filling my brother’s cranium with titanium bullets.

Scraping together facts but forgetting the artifacts that prove justice, it’s just us.

But am I next?

Having to guard my life from those I pay taxes for to protect me in a country where they neglect me.They signed those bill of lies on the breaking bones of my ancestral family.

My sister excels above the academic standard surpassing her classmates therefore a threat to be handled.

Is she next?

In desperation they’ve began gunning down our children, mocking a race to our face on television networks, and silencing our outcries.

Biblically speaking our fallen may be dead but trust me they will never die.

My educated mother, my strong black mother, my loving tender giving to the world, God fearing mother…is she next?

How many of us may be taken for your outrage to satisfy your thirst for African blood?

How decadent are we that we become morsels, moreso picked off one by one.

Is my chocolate skin appealing to you, devil?

Are my almond shaped eyes and strawberry lips fueling your envy?

Do my voluptuous body and sassy curves entice you?

Well I hate to disappoint but I won’t be sacrificed to you. Remove my body from your altar. Take down your rituals. And embrace my existence even though it’s your nature to resist it.

My people elected a president who set precedent. Decreased unemployment, reversed military deployment, fought the deficit and set the record straight. Encouraged us black kids to go to school and accomplished more goals than all those before him. Thus classified as a snob by the Republican mob.

Tell me, if you dare, is he next?

And here we are. A people of elegance, beauty, and refinement. A people of soul, rhythm, and motion.

And there you are. Jealous, bitter, hateful and distasteful. The most ornery sight I have ever seen.

Sneering at what little my people have due to your greed.

I think I know the answer, it is definitely what it seems.

Tell me, white America…who’s next?

Are we?

Letter to the President

Our sincerest apologies to President Barack Obama on behalf of the ignorant nation you serve.

Not conscious of your platforms white supremacy seems to hold all our concern not those little black babies you seek to uphold and provide future nor will we acknowledge your defeat on terrorism when the Anglo-Saxon couldn’t do it.

See…we’re the Republican Party.

And we’ll argue till blue in the face that we’re tolerant of the colored race our issue is with democracy you’ve got us enraged like how come Common got an invite to the White House?
Better suitable for our taste why not invite Donald Trump out? While his platform is yet developed and his experience nonexistent his skepticism of your birth records instead of healthcare is legitimate.

Excuse us for our ignorance. Questioning your religion, when catholic Kennedy took office yet with YOU black man we go kicking and screaming making no effort to hide our blatantly racist esteem.

That’s just how the cookie crumbles…

We ostracize and we fight every attempt you forge for success and bite our tongues under defeat.
Dividing the House of Representatives so no bill is passed and doodling satanic pictures of you wasting in our seats.

There’s strange fruit in these trees. We’ve rigged a jail system to systematically retrieve your kind so the fact you made it to the White House…we MUST press rewind.

Throw caution to the wind and lay siege to our own economy blocking a stimulus that seems too promising. Let the white, I mean Republicans handle this. Let’s spend more money on weaponry and deny starving kids. Lets cut education (which secretly we ruined anyway) and force our youth to the path of insanity.
Tell them that Switzerland has better math scores and Japan is more efficient in Science so your only option is to fire this rifle on foreign islands. We snuck our grubby fingers in the cookie jar and choked HOPE out of their eyes knowing our tactic is artfully disguised because without college funding, your black students can try but a shot at equal education? EHHHHHH DENIED!

The minority whispers “From the American Dream….I awoke in a sweat” well we’ve got news…you aint seen NOTHING yet.

To protect and serve: NOT the brown, yellow, tan, beige, or red man. Yet our biggest fear has been realized and we’ve been found that all of our arguments aren’t logically sound. Still we push forward digging graves in our backyard killing ourselves slowly off.

Not to mention that we turned against our own citizens and made terrorists of our officials killing children in villages we made sure you never heard of. Pouring cyanide down throats or plundering through bullet holes in skulls hoping to find “intelligence” to justify our murders.

This is the America you open your eyes every morning to protect.
This is the America that would more willingly place rope around your neck.

This is your America that you so passionately wish to fix.
This is your America that to this day denies racism exists.

So I personally apologize on their behalf Mr. President cause I know this has to be the single hardest job there ever was. And I applaud you for not giving up on us.

God Bless.

A Poet's Way of Saying She's Lonely

My most prized possession is hidden under flesh, veins, muscle, and bone.

If my enemy can transcend these entities and uplift my onion layers of ebony I’ll combat him with my soul.

See there’s nothing left to give when the body is gone. Every organ can’t function on its own more importantly my heart needs a pulse.

And without the flow of poetry thriving throughout my ligaments I become addicted to another drug fixating on my dependency hoping to feel that same rush.

But no drug counteracts the high of words smoked from a conscience and blown over nonsense reviving the mentality of otherwise invalids, evaporating into irrelevance.

The only interjection placed here is the comma that reminds me behind my love of spoken word is love itself and my heart doesn’t pulse for merely the sake of health. This is my creation I’ve sheltered it from the world and valued at a rate more precious than gold no man, as deemed by myself, will ever get close.

I’ve placed traps in the aorta and poison in the pulmonary vein in case he was smart enough to escape my maze. The left and right ventricles are shackled to my rib cage as arteries are blocked with cement covered in blood stains.

Too many have tried to take a crack at it and submersed in my complexity become crack addicts fiending for that first taste of my soul. And that, that is the very reason they’ll never ever reach their goal.

I’m too in love with myself to be won over without struggle. Yet sometimes I wonder…when do I ask too much? Or is there such a thing?

I cheated on poetry with the fantasy of loving you. And honestly, love, I’m not ready to encounter you. I get lonely, I do, but the pen has always eradicated my desire. To my surprise the pen spelled your name as if it knew. Trying to tell me that without the full completion of God’s ordinance I can't give myself unto these words entirely. Because I can’t write about something I love without having love inside me.

It’s not as simple as taking off the screws and unlocking the hinge that contracts my beating vessel I have other emotions that will escape if not properly nestled.

I’ve hated a man for so long that I forgot how to spell love or sound out the consonance and I’ve envied other people so hard that I lost myself in their dominance plus I’ve lusted for images of wealth so much that I devalued my common sense while yearning for something so artificial I myself became counterfeit. And none of it cost me more than the freedom of my heart beat.

My most prized possession is hidden under flesh, veins, muscle, and bone.

If my enemy can transcend these entities and uplift my onion layers of ebony maybe I wont combat him with my soul.

Maybe instead….I’ll hand him a stethoscope.

My letter to Love

Can I have that friendship that never ends continually stimulating my intelligence?
I want that power to transcend and amend broken spirits let no harm come near it.
I crave that flavor every time I part my lips of passion and trust a divine designed mix…

I desire that warmth on my skin through which I claim protection shielded from the dagger of untruthful misconceptions…

Too many refer to love as some fleeting emotion or another word to be tossed in our diction. They think of it reality when in proof it is fiction and I refuse to bear the burden of such hideous fallacies interpreting lust for something long-lasting.

If a man can just admire my vision and work in conjunction instead of chase me around for my bodily functions we can share what I truly have to offer that is sweeter than any temporary feeling shared amongst “lovers”.

In his eyes I want to be imperfect and unbalanced so that loving me comes as a challenge and when his prize is won he’ll appreciate my soul that much more because simply sharing that with you has been my life-long goal and I didn’t build myself up…for my value to be annulled.

I looked inside myself and love once told to me.
“The true power in harnessing my beauty is to acknowledge me, practice me, honestly, act on me, represent me, actually, trust me, not factually, faithfully create me, wait on me patiently, hoping that one day LOVE is what you awaken to”….

And I listened….so love whenever you decide to come around let him see the woman and treasure what he’s found….

Take control of our destiny connecting us endlessly and teaching us relentlessly for there is no force as strong as you….

I want to cover myself in you from head to toe and show everyone my outfit of compassion. Drench me from my hair follicles to the edges of my toe nails so that wearing love in its entirety becomes fashion

Can I have you and keep you under my rib cage so that if you were to ever part from me I’d collapse internally withering away my days? I want you so deeply rooted in me that love assumes my identity and they’ll assume my character your name….

I guess what I’m asking is….when the time comes….can it never go away….Love….I’ll take your good, your bad, and I’ll vehemently endure your pain….until then I humbly and patiently wait…

What I've been up to...

I know I haven't posted much as of late....I apologize.

I've been working at a store called Justice (Northpoint Mall) saving up money for this thing called L.I.F.E

I've also been volunteering heavily with Cool Girls, Inc.

I mentor young girls at Coan Middle School as well as Clifton Elementary School. They are an AWESOME group. Love you girls =)

I've also been interning with the same organization, Cool Girls, helping to update files and organize information, etc.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I have NEW PIECES for you all to read as well.

I've been volunteering with Conscious Collective as well (We have BIG things planned for GSU)

So far I've been accomplishing all I set out to do.

If you missed my performance on campus last semester and missed my performance again on January 26th don't fret I have more shows!

February 11th, 2011 Urban Life Building 5pm
February 17th, 2011 Rialto Center
Georgia State's Annual "Black Affair" (TBA)

Stay tuned for my NEW SPOKEN WORLD MATERIAL!!!

Be blessed. I'm back on the grind =)

RICH BLOOD

The Pharaoh had a tomb as grand as my smile as golden as my skin and strong as my mind.

The King had a castle as rich as my blood as tall as my soul and brown as my skin tone.

The Emperor had a palace as wondrous as my laugh as mystical as my eyes and breathtaking as my craft.

Words were my armor, metaphors my weapon, intonation my deflection forcing enemies the opposite direction.

I am the Queen, the Empress, the Pharaoh’s Goddess.

Dressed in gold from head to toe nothing about my garment says modest.

Rightfully so as I've bared this cross too long to be disrespected carrying the weight of a people awaiting its resurrection.

Restoration after deflation by the efforts of our nation; a place we built by bondage without hesitation to forget the equality of man.

Doomed to erode like the beach's sand time erases our faces leaving the smirk of the white man.But here's what I don't understand.

How I can go from a Goddess, a Queen, an Empress to a slave, inhuman, inferior not even a being.

They ripped my flesh from the bone letting my blood flood the land nurturing the trees that make leaves grow red.

When the wind blows you can feel my ashes. I too was crucified next to Jesus listening to the laughter of the ethnocentric people and the fascist neo-Nazi’s with their built up evils.

They mocked my crown as royal I was beat me down and stole my self-worth mocked my country Oh Mother Africa, how they belittle you so. Making piss pots of the grounds I would call home.

Now they tear apart this man leading the country we built. Reversing the years to the grave of Emmett Till, I can feel the Klu Klux Klan breathing through my window sill.

And they tell me we live in a post-racial society. The election of a black man was done at our hands if left to the Europeans he’d still be held captive.

Excuse me if I’ve given up hope. Our education, our political system, our health care, our judicial jurisdiction, our laws, our Senate, our Nation is pitted AGAINST us.

What am I to do but look for my long lost crown and pray my Queendom returns?

Aspire that my sons and daughter’s will assume the royal throne and be the God’s and Goddesses that once controlled what we owned.

My palace was dismantled left to be handled and divided by the Republican conquerors covered in their scandals; my poor sacred land left in shambles.

The dust of dollar signs settles on the mound of my dreams, a deformed byproduct of their hate-filled schemes.

You can’t tell me not to be angry!

The poison has gone so far as to corrode the minds of my brothers.

They chase white women, Chinese women, anything that refuses the memory of Black mothers.

They turn from tradition and empathize their own institutionalization.

Ignoring the truth and running from realizations that they are Black men with responsibilities.

They are Princes, King’s, Pharaohs, Godly beings.

They leave the womb neglecting their destiny from birth as we Queen’s are left to take care of sick mother earth.

I’m not generalizing what you hear is the truth. So many throw away futures to emulate musical tunes. They are pretty boys now no longer strong men. Concerned with swag instead of being genuine.

They smash, grab, and dash damaging the image of their Queen’s yet our Goddess’s act like the trash on the videos they’ve seen.

Warped mentality from slavery and civil rights to the passive-aggressive prejudice in the Obama-McCain fights.

We’re too ignorant to realize the noose on our necks we’re about to be hung gasping for breathe, caste unto death, question of our intellect, loss of respect as if we ever had it.

Too numb, too dumb, to content to be run by a people who consistently plot our demise. Why is my skin color such a burning flame in the white man’s eyes?

If anything it should be the diamonds in my crown, the elegance of my smile, the authority in my voice, or strength of my soul…

I am a Goddess, a Queen, an Empress, now kiss the FEET of you’re Pharaoh.