Father's day
Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers, stepfathers, brothers, uncles, teachers etc. that are or act as a fathers! I appreciate all you do to better your village. I’m truly thankful for the men that have helped guide and mold me. This poem is dedicated to my father, dad, and brother. Thank you
Let's talk dreams and achieving them!
I've been working or writing I should say. I’ve been writing to provide quality content for you all. Not just poetry but videos, short stories, essays, and more. I want to provide literature that reflects the climate of our world and the various marginalized cultures; writing that creates a sense of empathy in us all, just for you. To make a long story short, I’ve been working towards becoming a full time writer. So I decided to launch my Patreon page.
If you aren’t familiar with Patreon, it’s an easy way for those interested in my work to see new exclusive content and updates before anyone else. By contributing as little as $1 per month (or every time I release something), patrons will enable me to dedicate more of my time to creating by helping cover the many costs incurred from my work.
As my supporters, I wanted to share the news with you before promoting more widely. I would absolutely love if you were interested in becoming one of my first patrons and helping me work towards my ultimate goal!
Thanks so much for your support!
If you aren’t familiar with Patreon, it’s an easy way for those interested in my work to see new exclusive content and updates before anyone else. By contributing as little as $1 per month (or every time I release something), patrons will enable me to dedicate more of my time to creating by helping cover the many costs incurred from my work.
As my supporters, I wanted to share the news with you before promoting more widely. I would absolutely love if you were interested in becoming one of my first patrons and helping me work towards my ultimate goal!
Thanks so much for your support!
Wait for MeWill you allow the sand to drain
Ticking of the time Waiting for me, waiting for you From the winding winds beating against my skin To the beams creating a bronzed tint on me The hue of the leaves signifying the distance between us Waiting for you, waiting for me The hands of the clock changing me from babe to doe I continue to grow As the amounts of research pile and your whiskers gray Waiting for me, waiting for you The sun rose and set And at twilight I found you, finding me Searching for me, searching for you But you beat me to the earth Mother taking you before I had fully found you So I hope when I return you are still Waiting for me, waiting for you |
who knew? #poetryseries
Who Knew….they have feelings?
PINK, PINK PINK...sounds of the bullets array on the dresser
Shhhhhhh….”he better get on his knees alone”
But not voicin’ words, pray in his dome
Worry now a stench he wears like cologne
So he let it seep deep, deep down
No registration for the gun passed down
through stitched lips as if from lost and found
Hands clasp
White rage
Permeating the veins of his deep, deep brown
Skin that he learned after years to love
Skin that he had to defend when push came to shove
Like the bodies we were told to “cover up better not get blacker”
Like the patriotic view of he as the attacker
Hands loading the gun smooth and graceful, hands gliding a true nutcracker
Deep, deep down went the words he’d heard form various community stakeholders
“That’s soft...You gay...Stop acting like a female” gynic controllers
Handle it on your own
Gently pressing the vessel to the victim’s dome
Trying on the trousers of a revolutionary
You see he aims to be quite the contrary
The struggle to settle on a road less traveled
Chasing emancipation determined to persuade legislators in power
Yet he can’t break down
Denying help and hugs emotionless,a rather content clown
His feelings now in a standoff
Fingers tickling the safety
BLASTOFF
Off and up crossing countrysides to protect a corner already colonized
Returning home a healthless and hopeless hero
Yet he searches for a listening ear like justice yet finds zero
No seconds left defrosting feelings now foes
Heart no longer subzero
The eruptions eroding the peace now pain
PINK, PINK, PINK was the sound of th rain
Leaking of tears; his silent oppressor
As a life is lost
PINK, PINK, PINK...sounds of bullets flying array across his own dresser
PINK, PINK, PINK flying from the hands of him to he, now his own aggressor
PINK, PINK, PINK, lightly heard due to the noise compressor
Is what was used stated the detective
To control his emotions was the directive
PINK, PINK PINK...sounds of the bullets array on the dresser
Shhhhhhh….”he better get on his knees alone”
But not voicin’ words, pray in his dome
Worry now a stench he wears like cologne
So he let it seep deep, deep down
No registration for the gun passed down
through stitched lips as if from lost and found
Hands clasp
White rage
Permeating the veins of his deep, deep brown
Skin that he learned after years to love
Skin that he had to defend when push came to shove
Like the bodies we were told to “cover up better not get blacker”
Like the patriotic view of he as the attacker
Hands loading the gun smooth and graceful, hands gliding a true nutcracker
Deep, deep down went the words he’d heard form various community stakeholders
“That’s soft...You gay...Stop acting like a female” gynic controllers
Handle it on your own
Gently pressing the vessel to the victim’s dome
Trying on the trousers of a revolutionary
You see he aims to be quite the contrary
The struggle to settle on a road less traveled
Chasing emancipation determined to persuade legislators in power
Yet he can’t break down
Denying help and hugs emotionless,a rather content clown
His feelings now in a standoff
Fingers tickling the safety
BLASTOFF
Off and up crossing countrysides to protect a corner already colonized
Returning home a healthless and hopeless hero
Yet he searches for a listening ear like justice yet finds zero
No seconds left defrosting feelings now foes
Heart no longer subzero
The eruptions eroding the peace now pain
PINK, PINK, PINK was the sound of th rain
Leaking of tears; his silent oppressor
As a life is lost
PINK, PINK, PINK...sounds of bullets flying array across his own dresser
PINK, PINK, PINK flying from the hands of him to he, now his own aggressor
PINK, PINK, PINK, lightly heard due to the noise compressor
Is what was used stated the detective
To control his emotions was the directive
Where in the world #poetryseries
Is there a surreptitious space for us
words to be heard not responded with sympathesized silencing
can I cry here and still be strong
lamentations now a nation's neglect of our song
harmonious hushes
rather post selfies than discuss this
institutions and ideologies writing wrong
to the thousand years long
of puppeteered players
minstrel show conveyors
strange fruit a modern day soundtrack
we must pick up the "I don't see color...things aren't that bad" shallow slack
sparring discrimination
with concentrated communal liberation
is there a place for us
to be
words to be heard not responded with sympathesized silencing
can I cry here and still be strong
lamentations now a nation's neglect of our song
harmonious hushes
rather post selfies than discuss this
institutions and ideologies writing wrong
to the thousand years long
of puppeteered players
minstrel show conveyors
strange fruit a modern day soundtrack
we must pick up the "I don't see color...things aren't that bad" shallow slack
sparring discrimination
with concentrated communal liberation
is there a place for us
to be
emancipation #poetryseries
She said it was ok
So I began to undress
Removing each “not sure”
Leaving nothing with which to hide
Believe after me she said
“you got this”
Ahead, forge
You are well equip she said
I can, I will, I am, and I sure as hell did
Just as she said, I said
And what if I don’t
Still I coughed knowing smoke lay ahead
As I ran in a lit house
She responded on fire
Sharpen that pencil down til you get the eraser and USE it
She said use the tide to wash the sand and rebuild
I knocked down the walls, opened my windows and allowed the light to fill me
She said to love is to emancipate
So I decided to be free
So I began to undress
Removing each “not sure”
Leaving nothing with which to hide
Believe after me she said
“you got this”
Ahead, forge
You are well equip she said
I can, I will, I am, and I sure as hell did
Just as she said, I said
And what if I don’t
Still I coughed knowing smoke lay ahead
As I ran in a lit house
She responded on fire
Sharpen that pencil down til you get the eraser and USE it
She said use the tide to wash the sand and rebuild
I knocked down the walls, opened my windows and allowed the light to fill me
She said to love is to emancipate
So I decided to be free
Where I'm From #Poetry series
Where I’m From
When they asked me where I was from, I responded Arkansas
She said, you know that’s one of the poorest states
But we were broke, not poor
Syrup sandwiches using white bread, ramen or whatever’s there
Watching taped rerun, reciting words acting as if we truly compare
Asking them who gets toons after the tax holiday
My advanced placement peers perplexed, wondering why I was in the class to stay
Must have knelt down on my knees to pray, in a broken tongue, ruby bridges hopes we clung, angela’s sons and daughters
Woke zombies lambs to the slaughter
Wonder if they care
That we are warmed by the oven, bath water boiled on the stove
Sharing each nook, cranny, and cove
Even piss poor dreams with our brothers, sisters, cousins
Playing the dozens
And any other makeshift made up “don’t touch nothing, cause you ain’t got toy money” games
Using whatever we had
Using whatever we had and could
To make ends meet, hoping the connection creates light from the cored like pineapple great migrations resilient motivations
reaching to ‘ol dude next door
Faintly dusting the floor
Are our passed down pants and bootless feet
We were told to strap up, suck it up
And keep running
Where I’m from
When they asked me where I was from, I responded Arkansas
She said, you know that’s one of the poorest states
But we were broke, not poor
Syrup sandwiches using white bread, ramen or whatever’s there
Watching taped rerun, reciting words acting as if we truly compare
Asking them who gets toons after the tax holiday
My advanced placement peers perplexed, wondering why I was in the class to stay
Must have knelt down on my knees to pray, in a broken tongue, ruby bridges hopes we clung, angela’s sons and daughters
Woke zombies lambs to the slaughter
Wonder if they care
That we are warmed by the oven, bath water boiled on the stove
Sharing each nook, cranny, and cove
Even piss poor dreams with our brothers, sisters, cousins
Playing the dozens
And any other makeshift made up “don’t touch nothing, cause you ain’t got toy money” games
Using whatever we had
Using whatever we had and could
To make ends meet, hoping the connection creates light from the cored like pineapple great migrations resilient motivations
reaching to ‘ol dude next door
Faintly dusting the floor
Are our passed down pants and bootless feet
We were told to strap up, suck it up
And keep running
Where I’m from