Shut Up And Bleed

I’ve bled too many times for you
you’ve drained my heart dry
my poetic vampire
why do you insist on killing me so slowly?
your kiss wounds never seem to heal
but getting them didn’t hurt like this
your touches have left deep imprints only visible to me
that are constant reminders of the misery I’m drowning in
my eyes have darkened
they have become unfamiliar irises
that shed shattered tears
that taste too much like your “I Love You’s”
my pillow is tired of tasting those words
tired of being drenched in my heartache nightly
the dead stranger that stares back at me from my mirror is starting to scare me
she looks too much like the person I use to be
only colder
but her souls burns with a devastating fury
that sometimes consumes her
cripples her till the point of convulsions that shake her spirit
tears through her body
burning
I want to hate you
no better yet I want to fucking erase you
bleach my heart and mind so I can find somebody else
that can make me forget about the emptiness I feel
but in that same breathe
I don’t want anyone else
you’ve polluted my head
to the point that my dreams and nightmares cry out for you
I constantly have to remind myself to breathe
it seems pointless now
and I’m scared that my chest is going to collapse
scared that my heart has grown to heavy
and I will no longer be able to carry it
I’ve shut down completely
I no longer know me
only what I’ve become
I truly see differently now
no one will ever be good enough
no one will ever be able to understand
no one will be able to put me back together again
I’ve been shattered into too many pieces
you’ve become unknown to me
sprinkled with a faint familiarity
what happened to the person I feel in love with?
why did you take him away from me?
No longer can “I Watch Him”
cause I hate the fact that “I’m In Love With You”
And I know I use to hate her
but maybe it wasn’t the fact that “She Never Deserved You”
maybe you just didn’t know how to treat her either
Or maybe your feelings were genuine
you just didn’t know how to “Prove It”
and now she’s “Broken”
like me
again I say I’ve cried too many tears for you
bled too many times for you
took too many slash wounds on my heart from you
and you’ve only returned the favor once
you don’t talk to me
you keep telling me
I love you
I miss you
I’m sorry
but it seems like you don’t really understand what I want for you
so I’ll tell you
I just want you to hurt like me
just shut up
and bleed
for me
please...

Ice Age

They call me cold hearted
but it’s hard for me to pinpoint exactly when the frost bite started,
when my heart turned artic,
and when my aortic arch started to pump out too much anti freeze for my body to handle.
My engine has started to sputter,
losing life slowly,
spiraling out of control-
I think I need a jump start…
but I’m too afraid of the electricity.
I tend to run from love
finding comfort in the arms of my heart’s assassin
closed casket
I buried my heart a long time ago
And a year later…
I buried my common sense
Choosing to date fools who were only good for a good…
Love seems like it’s playing a never ending game of hide and seek with me
were I’m constantly it,
I’m constantly chasing.
And sometimes I fool myself into think that I finally caught it and then…
I run from it,
but love never seems to catch back up with me.
Funny how I end up chasing all over again…
Damn if I shouldn’t be a track star.
I’ve lost count of how many times this thing in my chest has been
snatched from me,
how many times I’ve almost lost all dignity
because my heart
betrayed my mind.
Don’t want to remember how many times I’ve mistaken love
for lust.
How many times I’ve looked for safety in the Devil’s arms
cause daddy…
wouldn’t hold me.
Always looking for the affection of man
in little boys who don’t even understand
the definition of how to be one
Funny,
I don’t know either…
maybe that’s why I fall easy.
I never knew what the sincerity in I love you should sound like
so when the words are uttered to me I make myself believe them.
It use to be easy for me to let people in,
but now,
as many times as I’ve been broken
I never open.
Everyone that has ever told me they loved me
has left me…
so it’s easier for me to let them leave
if there’s nothing that connects them to me.
I tend to give new people the cold shoulder
that way it won’t be any new ice sickles
to stab in my chest to make my heart grow colder.
I tend to hide my emotions.
You only see me lose composure when I’m…
about…
to blow,
So know that if you think that I’m just a little pissed…
I’ve really reached a whole new level of pissed-ocity
I warn you.
Though my heart might be cold
I can unleash the fires of hell with my wrath
don’t test me
I snap,
easy…
Especially since every chick that screams they like kin to me
ain’t no real friend to me
They flip-flop more than the shoes with the same damn name
Two faced
If I had a real friend for every dagger wound in my back
I’d have an army big enough to bring our soldiers back
I’d rather ride solo
cause from the get-go
I’ve been betrayed.
My kindness has been misused,
so I guess it’s safe to say I have trust issues
I’m sorry
Wait I lied,
FUCK AN APOLOGY
I refuse to give you the satisfaction of thinking that you mean anything to me.
You’re not worth my “I’m sorry”
It was you who made me this way
every one of you who’s done dirt to me
my own family seems like they are the descendents of Judas.
Betray me with kisses that send shiver down my spine.
They call me cold hearted
but maybe,
my heart has just been frozen over
and
d
r
o
p
p
e
d
s h a t t e r e d
So now,
it doesn’t exist anymore….

Bonded Souls

Our souls have met before
intertwining iniquitously intricate
forming an unbreakable braided bond between us
and I’m left,
wondering…
what were we before?
who were we to each other before?
before I was confined to this being
this name,
this ethnicity.
I’m left dreaming of time traveling back
till I find the origin
of our connection
who were you to me?
in another life
in another time…
maybe…
you were mine
husband who loved me unconditionally
blessed me
showered me with affection
put nothing above me,
loved me passionately,
your touches tease me with our unknown memories
who were you to me before?
what was your name?
was it father?
Was I your daughter?
your baby girl
or maybe I was your son
your child,
your seed
you beamed glory
saw my imperfections perfectly
Or was I mommy
bandaging scraped knees
letting you fall asleep on me
Were you snatched from me?
My aborted baby
child taken from mother?
Or were you my brother,
were we seeds birth from the same fruitconceived from palm leafs pressed to closely
siblings
joined at the hip
inseparable
protecting each other
shedding blood if anyone dared to hurt blood
What is our connection
Cause from the first time I saw you
I was drawn to you
I felt like I’d known you before
though I couldn’t place your face
I knew that if I could trace our spirit’s paths far back enough
I’d find you
hidden in my unknown history
for all I know we could’ve been enemies
hated one another
couldn’t stand to even look at each other
your death sworn from my lips
I had a bounty on your head
and you
wanted me dead
who could we have been
maybe you were master
slave owner
and I worked your fields diligently
picking your cotton
and taking the whip lashes you left on me
you considered me property
nothing more than another possession you could use at your disposal
I feel your presents before I ever know where you are
and your voices triggers unseen flash backs of our past
and sometimes
I have to fight the urge to touch you
reach out and try to grasp some part of who we used to be
you’re a constant figure in my dreams
but it seems like I always wake up before I catch you
You are a familiar stranger,
I know nothing about you
but I know you,
Our souls,
have met before…

Soldier

He’s tryna be a soldier
Tryna prove he can handle the weight of the world on his shoulders
Barricading his self with his burdens
And he tells me,
He never quite knew how to lay them down
Never knew how to place them at the feet of He
Never knew how to pray correctly
Tells me he wants to do better he just doesn’t know how
And I can almost hear the crack in his voice whisper his tears to me
And I feel like holding him
Cradling his fears
I want to be his new foundation
Or at least the cement used to fill the cracks in his old one
He’s dying for some stability
But he won’t let anyone get close enough to help him
He’s been taught that being a man means never let anyone in
Never show your weakness
And never let anyone see you cry
But his weakness is that he’s scared of being weak
And his unshed tears are drowning his soul
Weighing down his spirit
Maybe that’s why he moves so slow
Dragging his feet
And sometimes I wonder if he wishes that his heels were erasers
Wishes that he could erase the traces of his existence
If his feet could just scrape the ground hard enough
He’s tryna hold up this image
Tryna keep it picture perfect
But I wish that he would realize
Even the “Mona Lisa” had her flaws
And you can guarantee van Gogh missed a few stars
he can’t walk on water
but some times…
I wish that I could
then maybe I would finally be able to get across the moat that surrounds his heart
I just want to help
If you trust me enough to confide in me
then trust me enough to cry on me
you can’t go it alone
you can’t be the only soldier standing in the middle of a war zone
and expect to win
you’re not a one man armyI’m waiting for you to realize I’m here
you don’t have to carry the world by yourself
just look over your shoulder
I’ll be here when you have no one else left
arms spread eagle
let me bare some of your burdens
intertwine your fingers with mine
and I’ll teach you how to pray
I’m ready when you are
put your heart in my hands and I promise I’ll help you carry its melody
burry it in my soul so you’ll never have to worry about it ever going cold again
give me your fears and I’ll hide them in my womb
carry them like the children you can’t father
till you’re ready for them to be birthed
ready to watched them grow into something beautiful
Or better yet,
if I could swallow you whole and hold you in my womb
so you can start life over again
I’d do it in a heart beat
hold you in my abdomen
belly swollen with you
I’d carry you in my safe space
so you’d never have to look any further than my embrace to find safety
come to me
cause if you think you can make it on two feet
I guarantee you
you could do a lot more
on 4
let me resuscitate soul
give life back to your spirit’s lungs
breathe…
me
inhale my aura
and exhale your sorrows
I could help you fill this hollow shell that is your body
help mend your wounds
if you would just let me…
in.

Breathe

I forgot how to breathe...
And my heart is stuck on this repeated morbid melody
I try to use my eyelids like erasers to erase the image of you
From my otherwise picture perfect view
But somehow,
You’re seared on the inside of them
And now my canvas is tarnished
Smudged with your slovenly fingerprints
I constantly feel dirty
Like you painted me with oil
Maybe that’s way your hands tend to slip over every inch of me
Your “I love you’s” vice grip my lungs shut
I forgot how to breathe
As you lean over me
Sneaking into my room
as silently as the cancer that took mommy’s breasts away from you
your skin is saturated with the sweet perfumed of her body
the scent of her hips is stained on your lips
mixes with your favorite elixirs as you trace my ears with your tongue
I don’t want to remember how to breathe
I wonder…
How could you touch me like mommy
Be able to look at my hips and stand erect
How can you lay seed in your seed
Your semen
lines my hymen
that you have left hanging like the tattered rags
that hang off the children in Bag-
dad how could you do this to me
you use to be my knight in shinning armor
how could you fuck your own daughter
did I look too much like my mother
blossomed into a flower that too much resembled
the one whose petals have been damaged and faded
you’ve invaded my soul
and every time you kiss me my heart goes…
cold…
like the poison that you injected into me was laced with ice
I pray daily
Hoping that the what grows inside me
won’t come out looking to much like
the Demon that helped me produce this blessing
or is it a curse?
Birthing my brother
Mothering my sibling
dreading the day that I have to explain to my child
that their daddy,
and granddaddy,
hold one in the same name
predator
pedophile
molester
monster
I wish
I never
knew how to breathe
in the first place.
Wish that I was never conceived
to receive
this being
that dwells within me.
Why is this happening?
It’s become so routine…
I know exactly how many rhythmetic thrusts
come before you bust.
How many come before you slap me
for not looking like I enjoy it.
How many come before you tell me
that this is my fault
and I…
deserve it.
I’ve stopped screaming…
Stopped hoping mommy was listening
cause now I know
that she knows.
Cause she never looks at me…
directly.
She speaks to me through silence
quick glances that dance around my eyes.
I can tell that she cries.
Her eyelashes whisper I’m sorry
every time she blinks.
And it seems like she’s forgotten how to breathe,
or maybe she doesn’t want to either.
Our house is suffocating
I can’t take the tears that roll off
my souls window pains
I can’t stand the rain.
I feel like I’m drowning…
but maybe that’s not a bad thing.
At least then,
I won’t ever
have to remember
how
to
breathe...

Broken: The Essay

Do you know how to hold a broken woman?
How to mend her and hold her together? How to touch her in ways that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain? Do you know how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
See me, I’m tired of being broken. It seems like every time I think I have a winning hand and lay my cards on the table I still end up getting beat out. Every time I try to completely give myself to some one I always come back to me in pieces. You see the thing that hurts the most about being broken isn’t the actual act of it happening, it’s watching how you tend to misplace the pieces to who you use to be. Looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a puzzle with fading parts or empty spots that you will never be able to fix. My maintenance is high, not because I’m materialistic, but because I’m use to being hurt, use to my heart pumping out the same saturnine melody. Simple things tend to trigger flash back of me being stabbed in the back, and sometimes I don’t even feel like bouncing back. Damn I wish life came with a re-do button, cause sometime your heart isn’t just broken by your lover, it can be broken by some one that you might consider a parental type, or brother, or even some one you might consider a sister. Funny how we tend to give these tittles to people that could be our worse enemy’s idol. So called friends have told me that if I ever wanted anything it was mine, but all I really want is for someone to remove this dagger from my spine. It keeps getting pushed and twisted further into me that now it’s broke through my soul and has left deep wounds on this ticking thing that I carry in my left breast. I’m shattered.
And I know you’re wondering how I got broken, or why I chose to write this paper on this subject matter. But all that right there, doesn’t really matter. And I know inquiring minds like to know, but sharing is caring, and frankly I stop caring a long ass time ago. All you need to know is that I’m cold, tired, and my tank is running on E, so I’m sorry if you have every thought that I was being a bit of a bitch to you but like I said , simple things make me feel like I’m in a reenactment of my past. Some people tend to think I’m a bit unstable, chemically unbalanced, or crazy whatever the hell they chose to call me. Others might view me as the silent type, stuck up, or cocky. These things that they see are true to some extent. I am unstable, cause every time I think I’ve found my stability it betrays me. And I am silent, simple because I chose to watch people and let their action speak for them. Let them subconsciously tell me every thing I need to know before they get a chance to lie to me. Now as for cocky, sometime the faded puzzle piece that is my confidence tends to regain a little color. Sometimes I think that I can rebuild myself, but then I realize I can’t build a house on a cracked foundation, even if it is empty.
Really, I just one person that I can trust. A friend or something more, I don’t care, I just need one. Or better yet both wrapped in one, someone that I don’t have to teach how to love me. Someone that I don’t have to explain my trust issues to. Someone that can make me feel whole again, someone that can rebuild me. Damn if I don’t just want somebody that already knows how to hold me. But does anyone know how to hold a broken woman? How to mend her and hold her together? How to touch her in ways that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain? Does anyone how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
I guess I’m just going to have to deal with being beautifully broken beyond beneficent rehabilitation, reconstruction, or reincarnation. Rebirth initializing in
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…

Broken

Do you know how to hold a broken woman?
How to mend her and hold her together?
How to touch her in ways
that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain?
Do you know how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
I’m tired of being broken.
Tired of trying when it seems like you don’t understand
just how much of my being exists in you.
Don’t understand that I,
am delicate…
fragile.
Despite what I spit on mics
You are a beautiful misery.
Your touches please me painfully,
but sometimes…
I feel like you’re just playing with me.
Then,
you smile.
Reeking havoc on my heartbeat,
giving me 32 more reason to love you.
And I feel like…
I need you.
I fiend for you.
Wish you could understand the stillness in my eyes,
hear everything I can’t speak
every time I swallow my tongue.
Your eyes are openly closed,
and I’m left wondering…
Are you scared of letting go?
Cause I know your history,
but sometimes,
I feel like you’re taking this out on me
When I’m just trying to give you,
all of me.
And I know it might sound hypocritical,
but your silence,
is slaying me.
I’m waiting for your kisses to save me,
but it seems like you don’t want to be my hero.
Your light seems like its fading,
and I’m scared of the dark.
My Knight Light in shinning armor
your silver is losing its luster…
Was it me that tarnish you?
Maybe it was all the tears I shed on you…
Creating an easy way for you to slip away,
I’m struggling to find a way to re-shine you.
And I wish I could make my clock go tock tick backwards
I miss the old you
And now I’m regretting what I told you.
You invaded more than just my mind…
I opened up my soul for you.
Wanted my tears to wash away
what was left from those not suitable for you.
I’m trying to reach out for you,
my hand is waiting for you to take,
but you are slipping through its crevices.
Like sand held to close,
the tighter I hold you,
the more you slip away,
but I’ll be damned if I let you go.
You were everything I ever wanted
I’m wondering…
did I do too much to keep you?
Maybe I should have just acted like I didn’t want you,
lied to you,
hurt you more than possible,
then maybe you would want me…
But I’d rather see you happy,
even if it’s not with me.
Just tell me.
I’ll let you walk away freely,
no ties,
and no connections.
It’ll be like you never met me.
Just say that’s how you want it to be,
don’t keep torturing me.
“If you don’t want me then don’t talk to me”
cause my confusion is about to make me lose it.
What else do I have to do for you?
I’m tired of spiting my tears for you over mics.
Tired of trying to cradling my fears of losing you
in your eyes.
Tired of the emptiness in your “I love you’s”
sending shivers down my spine.
If you love me,
tell me without speaking.
Make me feel beautiful
instead of invisible.
I just want you to hold me.
But do you know how to hold a broken woman?
How to mend her and hold her together?
How to touch her in ways
that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain?
Do you know how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
……I’m so tired of being broken.

When I Dream

When I dream
The Earth shakes
Shivers and quakes because it knows it’s not good enough and my dreams will show my wildest fantasies to me
and entice me with a world that’s better
and they say sleep
is kin to death
and this world can’t lose me
it needs me
it breathes me
because it breed me
I’m its ultimate weapon of mass destruction
Conceived in the corruption of our nation
I spit fire and bleed rhymes through my pen that can make love to your ears and leave them sprung on my B-I-C
And my rhymes are so sick that most don’t know what to call me
Some call me a poetSome call me a lyricist
But most just refer to me
as a MC
And my baby daddy
Most just call him DJ
And together we make music
Giving birth to my first child they call her Hip Hop
And I’ve watched her grow
Blossoming into a beautiful melody
With the ability to change her tone to fit every voice that graces a microphone
But recently it seem that she’s followed her own dancing beats losing sight of her purpose
I created her to give worth to the so called worthless
And she knows thisBut yet she defies everything that connects her to me
She’s become an addict
Addicted to her own rhythm
Injecting into her veins the venom of vulgar names
She’s degraded herself
Having love affairs with money,
cars,
chains
and even video hoes
Spewing the acid of her graffiti on this new generation of clothes
And her children…
barely even know who I am
the origin of who they are
And damn if that doesn’t hurt
Damn if it doesn’t hurt me watching what my grandchildren have become
Cutting each other down and up lifting no one
Brothers and sister are now sworn enemies and rage turf wars with each other over intangible entities that be long to neither
This is not how I envisioned my dynasty
Listening to the sound of it dying slowly at the hands of people that were born to uplift me
my own womb has betrayed me
birthing the very thing that plagues me
what the hell happened to my baby
mommas baby
you abandoned my affection
choosing to damn near murder your own mother
changing the way the world perceives meproducing disrespectful bastard babies
also set out to kill me
but you are afraid to get rid of me completely
without me,
there would be no you
you can’t lose me
you need
you breathe me
cause I breed
you

Assignment

I was given the assignment to pick a person in my family, get 5 pictures of them and write about what was going on in those pictures. I picked my sister and this is what came out. (After each line is a new picture.)

She looks at me
Tears glazing her corneas
She’s tryna be a soldier,
Fighting a war I feel I never should have put her in
Our souls bleeding out the same rhythmetically painful heart beat
She smiles longing and heartache And her eyes are filled with the memories that we will never get a chance to make
Erased every time she blinks
She connects to me more than our other sisters or even or mother
She wants me there with her,
With them
So our little family can be whole again
But my plane...
is leaving
And I have to make it to my gate
Back to my father’s side
Back to Austin where they reside
And I’ll miss her
terribly
knowing the misery that I’m about to leave her in
On the plane
Tears escape my downcast eyelids
As I take one last look down at the city
Knowing that me and my sister will cry
together
Separately
___________________________________
I’m packing,
Collecting all evidence of my existence here
But trying to keep the proof that my sisters and my mother do hold me dear
Despite what my fathers side tells me
I’m moving
Slowly
Subconsciously trying to make the world stop moving with me
Trying to remember the feeling of Christmas
And hold true to my promise for the New Year
I’m not going to cry
I’ll be back some other time
And maybe by then I will have decided to stay
Her letter falls out of my pocket
And though it’s just paper
It seems to plummet
Heavy with pressure of the emotion chasing it
It wasn’t intended for me to read yet
Suppose to be opened safely on the
it won’t make me change my mind about staying
She says she’ll miss me
But she understands why I can’t stay
Says that there are so many things that she wishes she could say but she doesn’t know how to.
She wants me to be happy
and keep writing my poetry
Says that writing connects us and our pens will forever join us together
Says that she knows that I didn’t willingly choose to break my promise
She forgives me
And my eyes glisten with remembrance
Raining down on my sisters heart that I hold in my hands
_________________________________
We are young in this picture
I not older than half a decade
And she not older than a quarter
We’re smiling
Arms around each other in an embrace only shared between us
It is our fortress,
No harm can come to us as long as we are in each other’s arms
I will forever protect her
Carry her in my crescent moon ‘cause she is the only one that can put it on my face
Baby sister this
“I promise”
____________________________________
You haven’t opened your eyes yet
Haven’t quite adjusted to the light
But you’re still beautiful to me
But I still haven’t quite adjusted to the light either
“Mommy, why is she so bright?”
And you cry,
it’s like your face became a candle
and my question was it’s either sparking your future thoughts that I envied you
that I didn’t love you cause you didn’t look like me
Your thoughts that I loved Leslie more cause we could pass for twins
We shared the same complexion
Like she was my true sister and you,
You we just came out wrong,
But youwere wrong…I admired you
it was just from distance…
__________________________
You can draw!
And I still can’t believe the talent that lives in you
Not to mention you write too
I can’t believe you never told me
Now I feel blessed that that you have chosen to bestow me with your glory
Drawing for me
Letting me read your short stories
Wanting my poem to be seen in your
I can’t explain the look on my face
I’m so proud of you
I remember holding you…
But I never got a chance to watch you grow
There are so many things that I will never know about you…
damn how you grew...

Poser Poets

Poser poet propaganda pushes poetic prophecies presumptuously towards death
And you expect me to just let theses niggas rest?
Please,
I’d rather spend my last breath fighting these wanna-be-me poets
pushing wanna-sound-like-me poetry.
Bite me,
and I’ll write back cause my words are like children to me and trust,
you don’t wanna mess wit momma’s babies.
See I’ve been deemed crazy
charged with a list of felonies like murder,
arson,
and rape
I plead guilty
I admit it,
I do murder these mics,
I set fire to stages,
and every time I write I strip mini-me’s of their fake ass tendenciesraping them bluntly with the image of what a real poet looks like
Excuse me if they don’t seem to like the light much,
much like roaches.
Picking up any of my crumbs they can savor
well just for ya’ll I picked up a new flavor
But I’m sorry if it’s slightly poisonous
I can’t stop the venom that flows from me
or the acid rain that likes to pour from me
burning patterns of my name into the brains of any that listen to me
I lash out with ease be careful with what you choose to say to me
Cause if you disrespect me
I’m a need you go ahead and start praying to whoever it is
you decide to believe in
cause you might just see them today
And I know most people like to think that mimicking is a compliment
So Thank You
it’s nice to know that you look up to me but I don’t need any more compliments from you
Flattery will not spare you the life of your pen
it will lead to its execution
so before warned
even if I drink every bit of familiar ink that dwells in your pen
it will not quench my thirst
blood will have to be shed on stage
cause I think I can do me just a little bit better than you can
I stay true to myself
and I never write to fill someone else’s shoes
you need to choose to do you
put your heart in your pen
let it bleed your life into a poem so you can resuscitate your soul on the mic
don’t recite lines that haven’t come from your own mind
redefine the word real
this is more than just an art form
it’s an outlet
a way for you to release your deepest thoughts
don’t step to poetry sounding like an echo of what you think it wants to hear
speak what you need to say
erase the traces of fraudulent fabrication
your paper is ready to show you your reflection
and introduce you
to you
now who
are you

Tears Of A Prophet

I was once told
that I have eyes that look like they’ve seen the birth
of prophecies
the death
of dynasties
the re-incarnation
of majestic memories
and I smiled slightly,
if you only knew half the things me and my eyes have been through,
I’ve seen dreams disintegrate in the hands
of the poet prophetess that stands before
these hands
have crafted intricately iniquitous masterpieces
that have snatched the limelit stars from premature eyes
I’ve witness buds
prematurely reproducing blossoms that wither and die before their time
I have crow’s feet,
caused by the truth clawing to pull the rose colored tint from my souls windows
my irises
are old
and their petals have already begun to fade
losing their clarity
but still witnessing
catastrophes
that make them they not want to see anymore
maybe that’s why I started losing my eyesight at the age of 9
given glasses
to mask this
fact that wisdom is harnessed in the bags beneath my eyes
swollen with knowledge before their time
The dentist even tells me that my wisdom grows in precocious and slightly crooked
and will have to be snatched from me
my third eye wonders casually back to the day before my conception
back to the lives I lived before my mother’s name was Valerie
my soul carries crevices deep enough to hold oceans and galaxies
born a senior citizen trapped in the mind frame of a baby
To young to understand that I was birthed for greatness
Blessed with the curses of seeing thing for what they really are,
the old for who they were
and dreams of what will come.
Maybe that’s why shatter these mic’s seems like de ja vu
I’ve done this before
I’ve painted masterpieces before
Birthed prophets before
Saved lives before
I’ve died before
My face carries time in its shadows
stories of the damned are found in the wrinkles of my brow
the sands of time are pressed in my laugh lines
and the fire that is released from these lips forms glass in the form of spit
my words produce daggers that rip through cochlea
causes ink to shed from eyes
and cuts souls free from their self-captivity
Poetry is written transparently on my corneas
So I see through metaphors
Sing similes sweetly through my breathing
My looks kill
murder anything that might be seen as obscene
or unworthy of my words
my diction can leave you BIC whipped
on pen tips
and my eyes can give you whip lash
from how fast you’ll catch death stares
or loving glances
I’m the reason they give most hurricanes
female names
there is peace hidden in the center of my eyes
but when I cry
the angry tears that fall from my face wash away
ignorant innocence and leave the turmoil of truth in it’s place
whirling around the mind
translating earth quakes down the spine
I’ll leave you shaking
so let the first tear that falls from my eyes
be your flashflood warning ‘cause
you wont be able to stop it
once the flood gates are open
I’ll drown you in truth
my eyes rain down
tears…
of a prophet

Definition

I am Lucifer’s broken halo
Adam’s broken rib
I am the original temptress offering the forbidden fruit of knowledge,
the hue of a violet,
and the thorn of a rose
created to shed blood and protect the virtue of my blossom
I be deemed cocky.
Which is understandable
when confidence is misused by those not suitable to carry its honor.
I am a woman,
born with potential in my womb
pregnant with the anticipation
of the penetration
of the malignant pigment of my heritage.
I be everything you can’t see.
The definition of me
lies deeper than any
epidermic expectations exponentially escaping from your irises.
I was conceived with violent tendencies,
a mean streak.
I walk differently.
Not to straight,
I drift slightly
and I’ve never been a follower,
I’d rather have people look at me and say
follow her,
cause I never walk lines that haven’t been set by my own mind.
I talk differently,
slurred slightly,
with the lightning quick tendencies
I tend to hurt feelings.
My tongue is sharper then the 6-inch stilettos that hoes where on the stole
and can burn you quicker than they can
I said,
je parle différemment,
je parle avec la langue de Haiti ancestors
il coule comme la Rivière d'Artibonite mes ancêtres étaient nés dans
People tend to not understand me,
language flows from me freely and I speak the stories of my ancestry.
I see things differently.
I see beauty in things others would deem revolting
but yet I do not see through tinted rose-colored glasses
my third eye sometimes seems like it can read minds.
Picks up on the aurora of those around me,
I see through people.
Façades never fake me,
Charlatans rarely fool me,
and fraudulent forgeries tend to piss me off.
Strangers try to judge me but find themselves confused
I seem to know everything about them before they ever even utter my name.
My words spread like wild fires through the mind of my peers,
and they often ask what my definition is,
pondering on who I am.
So for all those wondering
I am… me

Prove It

You tell me you love me,
so take a dip into my psyche
float with my memories until you know each one of them intimately
Baby swim with me,
caress my cerebral hemisphere until your finger and hand prints are found in the deepest crevices of my brain,
I don’t wanna just see your name or your face when I close my eyes,
I want you to be imbedded in to my cerebellum
so deeply that my movements start to spell out your name.
Want you to be entrenched in the rivers of my mind
so that our currents can join together and produce a new generation of brainwaves
that would exceed the expectations and the limitations of the word love.
Love, make love to me intellectually,
write poetry to me that make me the envy of Shakespeare’s muse.
Strip me,
leave me bare,
free me of metaphors, similes, and clichés
till nothing is left of the poet within me.
Reduce me to nothing but a naked idea.
Come here,
lay your head on my chest.
Let my heart beat be your lullaby while you sleep
just so you can dream about me.
Let me be the sunrise on the horizon of your irises,
sculpt mosaics in the image of me on the inside of your eyelids.
Tattoo my name on your tongue so you can speak me,
tell the world of my existence in your chest cavity.
Marry me mentally.
Let our love become an entity,
intangible to those not worthy enough to be hold our glory.
Walk with me.
Join me at the hip and we can travel to the end of eternity
then back track and come back again
so we can make sure we left no loose ends behind us.
Take me back to the time when you were conceived
and bury me in your skin
so I can experience everything that has ever happened to you.
I want to know the very definition of you.
I want you to become the soul definition of what makes me happy.
Want you to be able to make me react to you orgasmically,
before you ever touch me.
Want your soul to intertwine with mine intricately,
braid into me until I can feel the skip in your heart beat
every time you see me.
Then I will welcome you between the skies of my Heaven
and hold you there confidently,
cause we will be connected spiritually.
You will be able to please me in ways no one else could
and I would become the only reason you find to breathe.
Let me be your respiratory.
And in the mere absence of me
life would slowly begin to seep from your lungs.
Don’t just tell me I’m the one,
show me that you believe what you speak.
Cause believe that your words are no strangers to these ears.
Over that past couple years
I have heard everything that they have managed to throw at me,
all lacking legitimacy.
So if you tell me you love me,
be prepared when I ask you…
to prove it.

Emonie

I had a conversation with my baby the other day
I caught a glimpse of her on my way past my mirror
And she asked me,

mommy, why did you get rid of me
I know I was conceived in your misconception of what love was
But how could you just give up on me so easily,
You never even gave me the chance to prove I was worth giving birth to
Didn’t your mother ever teach you patience is a virtue?

And I said baby, your father would’ve never wanted you
He would have tried to beat you out of me
And I rather you die by my hand
Than by the fist of the man your suppose to call daddy
Try to understand me
I could never take care of you
I can’t even take care of myself
I’m only 17
And I couldn’t afford for you to defer my dreams

But mommy you didn’t have to willingly choose to miscarry me
I could have taught you how to take care of me,
how to hold me,
how to love me
and now you’ll never have the luxury of hearing my laughter
my first words
or the sounds of my first steps
do you even have any regrets?

Yes, you were suppose to be my angel,
I was suppose to cradle you in the pieces of my broken halo
You were my redemption
My second chance to prove I was worth giving birth to
You just came too soon for me
You scared me
I swear I felt you move before I ever knew you existed in my womb
I dreamed about you before you were ever conceived

Then why would you defer my dreams to breathe
All I ever wanted was to feel my mother’s touch

All I ever wanted was to feel my daughter’s touch
You don’t know how much I want you to just wake up

You don’t know how much I just wanted you to wake up and realize I was worth it

Baby nobody’s perfect, I make mistakes and I’m sorry that you have to learn that this way, but trust me I loved you

How could you love me, you never gave birth to me, you never cried for me, never got the chance to meet me, don’t lie to me

I’m not lying, and I tried crying but I never thought my tears were suitable enough for you I’m dying for you to forgive me

Well I’m already dead and my heart has turned as cold as my skin, instead of the forgiveness you seek it’s my havoc I reek, you see I’m the period that always comes at the wrong time, I’m the tears you shed in the middle of the night, I’m what cause your spirit and your soul to fight, it’s me

But my baby, why do you insist on torturing me, why can’t you just forgive me, how can I prove to you that I’m sorry, I’m tired of your face taunting me on the surface of the moon, and I swear your tears get heavier every time you let your pain rain down on me, baby you’re drowning me, and I can’t seem to catch my breath

I never caught mine either, but unlike you I will give you a chance to breathe, just as long as you never forget me

Just as long as you forgive me

Deal. But mommy, I just want to know, what would you have named me

And I told her Emonie

Gun Shots

Cause they scores feel like gun shots
5.8, 5.9, SHOT, 6.0, 6.1, SHOT, 6.2, 6.3, SHOT, 6.4, 6. Gun Shot
Raise your score boards
let the corrosive acid that spits from that maker eat at her till her soul bleeds rivers of blue ink
the same shade her pen bleed the day she wrote her first slam piece
but she, doesn't want to slam any more
cause through your felt markers she has felt you mark her down to nothing more but a mere number
she leaves her life on stages
and gives her soul to complete strangers
blessing them with the privilege of thinking they are superior enough to judge her
and you
degrade her
making her feel like her words ain't worth a pot for you to piss in
like her words ain't worth the time it took for you to listen to what the fuck she was saying
like her words ain't worth jack squat
every time she hears your gun shots
6.5, 6.6, SHOT, 6.7, 6.8, SHOT, 6.9, 7.0, SHOT, 7.1, 7. Gun Shot
But she,
I mean I
don't give a fuck about the score no mo
don't give a fuck about the judges no mo
cause you mother fuckers can go suck on the BIC I wrote this poem with
I am the epitome of my own damn epiphany
and I don't need you judging me
so go ahead
give me a low score
and I'll tell you EXACTLY where you can put that damn board
cause you have not swam through the currents I've swam through
haven't even seen some of the things I've had to live through
I have nothing to prove to you
I now know my own self worth and it's way more than any damn 2 figure score you could give me
And I know this poem ain't exactly what you wanna hear but it's exactly what needs to be said
Cause you can believe what I'm spitting has been in every poets head at least once
And I know few poets have said what I've said and lived to slam another day
But I am no longer afraid
So I'm a go ahead and take this hold your tongue condom off cause I don't need it's protection anymore
I'm a get in this shit raw
So go ahead and try to fuck me
but I've already been train raped by your scores
and I refuse to remain your poetry whore
see I don't do this cause it's cute
I do this cause it's my stress relief despite how brief it is
I do it so I can help somebody who thought they where alone
realize they aren't they only one standing in the middle of a war zone.
I do this so I can make that one picked on out cast realize he ain't got to blow up that school,
all he got to do is pick up a pencil.
I do this so that little girl realizes that though somebody has laid their hands on her inappropriately I understand, I know how it feels to have somebody groping me in the middle of the night and though it hurts right now baby girl it'll be alright.
I do this so that one suicidal teen realizes that he ain't got to go that route,
and there's a better way out trust me
look at me and realize that I've been there
our scars
match
perfectly
I do this for everyone that some how reminds me of me
And the only one that can ever really judge me besides He,
is me
so now when your shots ring out freely all they'll sound like to me is
7.2, 7.1,
10
6.0, 6.9,
10
6.8, 6.7,
10
6.6, 6.5,
10

She Never Deserved You

She never deserved you.
Truth be told the bitch never deserved to even look at you,
she was never women enough for you
hadn't yet learned how to grow the fuck up.
Still playing little girl elementary school mind games
thinking that you were the same as all these
other lame brain ass little boys.
But you're not,
you never were.
All you were tryna do was treat her like the Queen that she could never be
cause she doesn't know how.
She could never define the word
cause she was use to all these
playa type niggas that was only interested in doing her wrong
so of course when you came along she didn't know what to do with you.
She was confused
and she only knew how to play you the way she'd been played
so at night,
I prayed for you.
In the hopes that He would help you see clearly.
But I guess it's true that love is blind
cause despite the signs,
you stayed with her…
But I was always right here.
Waiting for you to look back and see me standing here
I was the one that held you when she couldn't find the time
And when she lied to you and hurt you
you were on my phone line
It was me,
it was always me crying when you couldn't
Letting me eyes leak so yours wouldn't have to
Apologizing for her wrong
Apologizing for shit that I knew I would never do to you
I was the one,
It was me,
Shay.
It was always me opening my arms to you.
Cutting opening my heart for you so you could sleep inside it,
lay your head on it's soft bruises.
And if you asked me to
I would bleed for you .
Bleeding the ink from my pens until the wells of my mind ran dry for you
If you needed me,
I was there for you…
And you did the same for me,
when I need you
you came to me
comforted me.
But it was only…
momentary
Cause you,
would always go back to her
Even after her 1st offense
Her 2nd offense
Her 3rd
4th through 12th offense
You loved her
And I don't even know her
but I hate her.
It's like you were addicted to her punishment,
her lies entangled you until you became intangible to me.
She kept you from me when you were mere inches away from me
she kept you from me even when you were dying to
feel me
hug me,
touch me,
kiss me…
But now it's seems like my prayers were answered
cause she's out of the picture.
She's fixed her lips to spew lies to you for the last time
But I…
am still on the side lines…
and it's killing me watching you hurt
killing me knowing that I can't comfort you.
I miss you,
wish that you were here
wish that you would let me treat you the way you need to be
wish that you would just let me in.
I'm dying to love you,
waiting for you to realize that I'm still here
And I'm never
going
no where.

China Doll

She collects them,
Has them scattered across her room as if they were a porcelain comforter
They comfort her
Their painted on faces never seem to judge her
So she confides secrets to them even her children will never know cause she will never remember
Her china dolls help her go on trips to far away lands that she can't even afford to dream about
And she loves them for that
Each one introduces her to a new culture as she imagines what its life would be like
She wishes she was more like them
Young like them
Beautiful like them
But most of all
Immortal like them
You see she's afraid of dying
But she's more like them than she thinks she is
She's fragile
As if she was made from the same valuable glass they were
She sees herself as broken
And her reflection only makes glass melt and leak from the windows to her soul like rain
She wishes she was young again
But this old girls been around the block
Been dropped too many times and the glue that is her sanctity is no longer strong enough to hold her together
You see she's tried talking to Him
but all she can manage to say is "Help Me"
cause she doesn't remember how to pray
maybe that's why it seems like He's always too busy to answer her
why it seems like He's always punishing her
Taking from her things that she always held so dear
She doesn't even recognize herself when she looks in the mirror
The first thing she lost was the sight in her left eye
As if it became a bleached stained glass window
Clouded with her faded memories that would seem to just get cloudier over time
Cause the next thing He took from her was her mind
Shooting holes into her most precious memories
Till it was hard for her to recognize her daughter's smile
Her son's eyes
Her granddaughter's complexion
All the things that she gave both generations
But she remembers her dolls
She holds on to them because they are the only thing that keeps her from connect to this world that she's slowly slipping away from
She doesn't want to die
She's afraid of even going to sleep
Haunted by her dreams of being trapped in the very same bed she lays her head in
But she amazes me
She stronger than she gives herself credit for
Cause she's held on longer than what was expected of her
Gripping her life so tight between her hands that her fingers go as numb as she feels when she looks into the stranger they call her husband's eyes
I wish I could give her back everything she's lost
Taking on to me everything that plagues her
And maybe I can be as blessed as to have as much strength as her
As much courage as her
Cause though she is afraid
She's never given in and she's never given up
She's accepted fate but she has never let it defeat hershe's a soldier
Fighting a war with no weapon other than her will to live
An Earth bound Angel
And I see beauty in her even when she fails to see it in herself
Cause she makes me want to hold on when I have nothing at all
She is and forever will be
my China Doll

A Poet's Last Stand

I am a poet.
But sometimes I wish…
That I wasn't
My words can't keep me warm at night and despite how many I write my poems will never be able to turn into the currency I need to survive
It's like you fall further in dept the longer you stay alive
So what's the point of living
of creating poetry when there are no job openings for word tacticians
No one really cares to hear the song of a poet beat through the rhythm of their words,
I need money,
Not poetry or reflection
Cause poetry don't pay bills
And reflection is only good when used to remember which creditor you need to strike deals with just to keep food on the table
I change lives on this stage by speaking to souls solemnly seeking to be saved
But yet it's your psychiatrist you pay to sit in silence
Ain't that ironic
You rather feed the silence and allow it burn, and starve the truth,
The solution,
I mean the poet, cause face it
Though I may be speaking to you in a manner that touches your soul
You would much rather spend your money on Lil' Wayne's Cd than one featuring me
This ritual is old, cause if I had dollar for every time some one comes up and tells me
"I love your work"
but yet my chap book remains unsold then I would have enough to feed every starving third world country including the one that exists in my home
And I know my dreams don't pay the light bills but
If I had a giant for every broke poet in the world then i would have an army big enough to put an end to activity in all war zones, return soldiers to their homes, and give the billions of dollars wasted on so called peace wars to every poet that has been denied a job because they were not able to hold their tongue, every poet who doesn't get the fame of people who get paid for making songs about girls with "donk"
every poet who's had his light's turned off
Cause poetry just ain't currency
But it should be
Cause I've heard poems that can make you see God quicker than any green piece of paper with His name on it
I rather pay a poet for doing something that frees his soul then pay to have something made to contain him
And they say a mind is a horrible thing to waste
But you tell me you how a poet can get his word out if bars are covering his face
And the people telling him to speak are the same ones that put his noose in place
Cause sometimes even poets won't support poets
Unless you giving it to them for free
And it's funny to me
Though we are all connected by this strange thing called poetry
Secretly, we want each other to fail,
just so we can succeed in getting our own hands green
we are all paper pushers
we all wish we were able to push paper into our pockets by the means of pushing words on to paper
See, I leave my life on stages
And I realize now that I get paid every time my feet grace a stage
My job is to breath realization into color blind minds
Through the colorful pictures I paint on to empty lines
And your job is to pay me with your attention
Your love and your affection
Cause if I can get just one genuine Thank You
Letting me know that I touched at least one of you
Then you've paid me enough

Nigga Please

I hear you…
and your voice ricochets of the walls of my mind
"Ay yo shawty, you need to be with a nigga like me"
and it's funny
cause I hear this line all time
constantly referring to yourself as a nigga so
Nigga please
not in good game are you attempting to step to me
cause a nigga like you could never in God's grace attempt to even be on my level
Cause niggas idolize gangsters greatly avoiding the truth,
escaping reality,
worshiping colors more than the women that deserves it most,
your mother
The women that gave birth to you and willing gave up her figure…
just so you can call yourself a…
NIGGA?
Nigga please!
And dropping the e-r don't make it no better
you see we've used this terminology
so loosely that we even have Mexicans calling each other nigga too,
Oh naw boo boo,
maybe I missed the memo that said changing nigger
to nigga
Changes it's definition and is no longer an insult
but in reality
we've been brainwashed into thinking that calling each other ignorant,
Is cool …
but if you notice it's only minorities that have been played the fool
cause we have it stuck in our minds that to fit in
you have to invest in
every pair of shoes that come out every other weekend,
Cause you can't be caught dead wearing the same pair of shoes in a week,
and you know every true nigga needs a main freak,
but always keep backup,
and backups for your backups,
Cause you can only be measured by how much of a nigga you are
by what grows between your legs,
and by how many females you can make spread
leaving them tainted,
trashed
and tarnished
spiritually,
mentally,
and sometimes even physically
Cause every nigga knows how to beat it up,
but see that's where ya'll are fucked up
Cause trust karma's a bitch,
and a bigger one than any woman you've ever called one,
cause just like you doggin' her,
believe somebody's gonna dog your daughter,
or cousin,
or your niece,
or maybe even your baby sista,
MAN UP NIGGA,
And look at the legacy you are leaving,
have you realized why niggas love saggin'?
Maybe it's because if you reverse the letters the 2 words are 1 in the same,
and this,
this is the image you are burning into baby boy brains,
Literally…
cause they watch you lit
and puff…
puff…
blow…
Exhaling your so called problems they're too young to know,
or you say they're too young to understand
But they will when they finally grow up and be a man
but how can they if you never have
and your just stuck being a nigga,
Nigga…

If I Could

She asks me…
why am I not pretty…
like you…
And the question lingers as if her smile is fading…
Londa if I could
I would let the answers to you questions roll of my tongue
just so your days would be so bright the sun would be envious of you,
I would return the rhythm that was stolen from you
so the song that beats inside that broken music box you hold in your chest could finish itself, lil' sister
if I could…
I'd help,
but your questions complexity confuses me
cause baby sister
I don't know why these boys think you're not pretty,
I don't know why you are not able to catch the attention of these boys
who seem to always catch yours,
I don't know why your attempts go unnoticed
and never lures their eyes to you
but I do know you're beautiful
your talents are remarkable,
your heart is ineffaceable,
and your strength is untouchable,
baby sister
like me,
your perfectly…
imperfect
and I would willingly give up my soul
and put my life in the Lord's hands for you cause I know that you're worth it,
you are the last angel to ever fall from Heavens skies
and I know their missing you,
your deserve the world and so much more
and I wish I could give it to you
but I can't,
I can't make these boys see beauty,
I can't make them realize what's in front of them
when they are constantly condemning themselves to chase after the "perfect woman",
constantly condemning themselves to find out there is no such woman,
constantly condemning themselves to realize they let the good ones go,
but until they wake up
they will never know how extraordinary you are,
cause you see they chase these girls who they think is everything they want,
beautiful mind,
soul
and heart,
someone who is stunning inside…
and out,
but the ones they are running to
are not suitable cause they
are not you,
you are so much better than they could ever be,
they just don't know it yet,
they're blind,
in every sense of the word
cause they are not able to see you as you really are,
but time,
time will be their enemy cause eventually
you will develop wings and finally be able to soar,
And my sister looks at me,
and a new question crosses her face
but before she can ask
I answer,
baby sister,
I've been in your place,
pain is no stranger to me
and my eyes have rained rivers that have flooded my face too many time to count
My heart has been shattered like my bathroom mirror I always use to want to break,
I've hated my self,
or at least what I thought the mirror reflected,
and believe I have been rejected more than my fair share of times,
I have laid in my bed at night
with only my pillow to hold
and cried
myself
to sleep,
baby sister,
I've shared your pain,
I've questioned my beauty,
I have wished that I…
was not me,
wished that I could reform my body,
and wished that God…
never made me,
It seemed like I was always too dark,
to short,
to flat,
too skinny,
or not skinny enough,
they hated me,
NO
they hated my beauty,
they tried to get me to believe I was ugly so I would not be a threat to them,
they wanted me to see everything they said I lacked,
till I realized my beauty
and started
fighting
back,
they could not break me,
I…
like you,
am a Queen,
a Nubian goddess finally spreading my wings,
so baby sister
break free,
and
come
fly
away
with
me

I Wish...

I watch him,
wishing I could be the pen he holds in his hand
giving birth to his word flow,
filling his paper with curves that resemble my own
so with every poem he spits he tastes me on his lips
I wish I could be his favorite song so that every time he would hear me he'd tell his homies
Damn!
She's my jam,
she's the groove,
she's that hit,
she's my SHIT!
He'd turn me on,
he'd turn me up,
and leave me on repeat while he sleeps,
just so he could wake up to a new part of me daily.
I'd be stuck in his head constantly
and he would always be humming my tune
I wish I could be his studio…
and his microphone.
Amplifying the tone of his voice so much so…
that it boost his ego
every time he heard how good his voice sounded ricocheting of my walls
He'd stay inside me diligently;
working long hours that would make him so tired he'd fall asleep in me.
and together…
we would make music.
I wish I could be his favorite shirt
the one that he never gets tired of wearing
'cause I just fit right
and I feel nice.
I wish I could be his notebook
And he could fill me with his ideas
along with his dreams
and his fears
Confiding secrets to me his tongue could never tell
He would find safety in me
And sometimes…
I wish I could make him blind.
Just so I could be his Braille
and he could read me continuously
Running his fingers across me,
he'd be able to read my history.
Losing himself inside stories of my past
and dying to be included in my sequel
I wish I was his everything,
'cause he's already mine.
But he doesn't understand that we were conceived from seeds in the same fruit
But our roots grew,
separating me from him
I broke his rib
So I could put myself directly over his heart and protect it
So I…
could be his Queen.
But he doesn't notice me…
he thinks of me as nothing more than a baby.
Too young to know how to take care of him
too young to know how to understand him…
but he doesn't know that we could complete each other
Me completing the song to his heart,
and he completing the poem I forgot to start
He could be my ending,
if only we had a beginning…

We Kept Waiting

We kept waiting for the beat to drop….
off us
cause what was spewing form this music box sounded off
shaking "booty meat"
to same beat
used a thousand times
stuck in this repeated melody of bitch,
hoe,
girl slide down that pole
cause apparently
that's the only thing this God given temple is good for
Apparently
our curves are more important than depths of the oceans of our souls,
our hearts
and our minds
the names that have been branded on us
are heavy enough with hate to break spines
but as long as I can be referred to as a "top dolla hoe"
then everything is fine
and no I wont mind
if this beast music corrupts my 14 year old little sister in to thinking that her breast should be bigger,
her ass should be thicker,
and she should work on her flexibility
to please the visual needs of these men who's eyes still find the need to breast feed
and hug momma's thighs,
And no I wont mind
if this music brainwashes young men into thinking that every time they see me
they should be viewing my anatomy
rather than looking at me
and automatically classify me
as "a very freaky girl"
pardon my French…
but Baiser Cela
I will not allow this beast music to
feed my insecurities
so I have low self esteem
that makes it easier for these so called artists to use me,
abuse me spiritually
and treat me worse than the dirt they walk on,
so excuse me if I seem a little withdrawn
from this crap
that has innovatively been labeled "rap"
cause last time I checked
I could have sworn it stood for "rhythm and poetry"
not "rape and pornography"
and though my name is not Maya,
I am a woman…
phenomenally,
so name you spit at me
can hurt me
or change my views of me
cause some one wise once told me
that it ain't what you called
but what you answer to…
so I will answer to respect
and nothing less
you will step to me correctly
or you just might get cut with the razor God blessed me with for a tongue,
Step Back
cause I am not the one you can come to
with these supposed "game"
you picked up from these so called artist
that pollute our air waves with the sounds
of our dying dynasty…

Letter To You

Letter to you,
you who created this hate that grows inside me daily
you who ripped away my innocence and left me with the fear of asking someone to save me
you who left me so messed up I couldn't even help myself
you who melted my memories into the tears that tread my face
filling my heart with hate for you,
you who left me in this darkness
blanked in the reflections of my sins
trapped in the stories of my nightmares without sight of an end
lovelessly caressing me with your lies of loving me
pleasing yourself with the indecency of almost destroying my dignity
but you couldn't break me
you could abuse me mentally but you could never scar my spirit
so I consider your mental bruises as nothing more than beauty marks
that trace my mind with our history
entwining with each other poetically teaching me how
to forgive you,
you who left me this woman trapped in a girls mind frame
tired or a world you made so mundane
trapped in a body you made an alien to me
with my soul beating at my chest
needing to burst free
so I write…
to you
and my words fill out my paper
with the curves you always said you wished belonged to me
and each letter
each sentence
cascades freely from my pen tip to make you see
as I see
feel
as I feel
every time I look in the mirror
and see the surreal world you created in my eyes
yes
you scarred me deeply
but you could never cut deep enough to scar my spirit
you broke my angel wings
but you could never break me
I am still able to soar over the lakes of my melted memories
cause you were never worthy enough to break me

I'm Often Asked

I'm often asked why I back away from the mic on the last line of my poem,
and I usually say…
it's just simple because I fear if I step too close they'll charge me for a new mic cause I shatter them,
or I'll say
it's because the rhymes that cascade from me cause lyrical disasters and massacres cause it seems like the world's been waiting for me so long they'll get to hear me…
or die trying
and I know my answers sound cocky so don't take this the wrong way
but I believe I'm the one they sent to set the sun on these so called poets and start a new day,
a new era
of spoken word artist
and define poet in a new way
so listen
cause I'm about to rain down truth on you today
but are you ready?
cause once you take this blue pill there is no way for you to climb out my rabbit hole,
so sit back,
relax,
kick up yo feet and let my story unfold,
cause as I stand on this stage you see me
but you don't really see me
cause I don't know you and
you don't know me
so let me be the first to introduce myself to you,
I am from the womb of a dope feign that that got her life together and has been 13 years clean,
and I thank her
cause weather she's knows this or not I see her in me,
but sometimes this,
well this confuses me
cause I don't know weather or not this will drive me to make the same mistakes as she
or correct them
but she means the world to me
and I'm proud of her
cause she raised 5 of her 6 children with the exception of me who she couragesly gave to my father…
and his mother…
who claims to love me but how can she if she hates where I come from
and my daddy…
well he's a different poem
See my momma,
she made me stronger,
she helped shape me into this woman that stands before you today,
she gave me this swagger,
this rhythm that flows from me when I talk,
and this beat that these hips make when I walk,
she made me beautiful
cause it is in her shadow that I grow
and I know she's wondering how she helped me if she has never really been around me
but I see her constantly,
in my sisters,
in my brother,
and in me…
so to answer the question why I back away from the mic on the last line of my poem truthfully it's just simple because I step back …
to let her shine through.

Love Poem

I am in love with you…
So much so that when we're apart the beat to my heart stops pumping out its rhythm 'cause it's grown so accustom to your voice.
Your smile replaces my sun every time you tell me I'm the one you've been waiting for
and the more your name rolls off my tongue
the more I realize just how good it tastes,
just how benevolent your kisses are to me.
And if the eyes are really the windows to the soul then yours is filled with your dreams of loving me
I see my life in your smile
And every time you touch me it's like I just learned how to breathe….
Mozart has nothing on the symphonies that exist in your laughter
your voice was crafted to soothe me.
Cradle me like that hook in your smile was made for my worries to drift away in.
You comfort me.
Like the only reason God breathed life into you…
is so you can exhale blessings onto me.
And let me take this time to say that I love your mother
She's a queen cause she raised you to be the man that you are
And I love your father, though I've never met him but without him your mother could have never birthed something so beautiful.
And you tell me that you love the color of my skin, it reminds you of Hershey kiss that I give you, you love to taste my chocolate, and I love to taste yours too, that's why when you kiss me I tend to bite your bottom lip
See, I don't think you really understand me,
Every time you run your hands over my hips it's like you're telling me that they where made to carry your kids
Your touches translate whispers that send shivers down my spine
And make my skin cry in places that are not appropriate for me to tell you in this poem
By the way, my beautician is mad at you cause you keep making me sweat out my perm
Baby you got me writing to you in a foreign manner
Cause I'm really not the love poem type
But you,
You make me want to write like metaphors are going out of style
And I need a poem for every pearl in your smile
You make me want to run the ink out of every pen that I own just so I can begin to try and explain just what your tone does to me
Baby, I don't even really know what to say right now,
And that's a first
you got me twisted
'cause you can ask anyone that know me, shit I'm never speechless
Every time I see you I see some new part of you that I fall in love with
I'm on my hundred and sixty fifth one and Baby I'm still counting

If I Could Speak To The World

If I could speak to the world…
I'd tell them to wake up
I'd tell these young girls to stop depending on this make-up thinking it will make up for the thing these boys say they are missing
Are you listening
Cause the world is def to the screams of infants starving
Craving the warmth from a mother never found
It's like they're screaming silence
Holding conversation with absolutely no sound
Eating violence
for breakfast
Robbed
of their metamorphosis into adulthood
I'd scream for them if I could
But I can't
I can't find their families that are missing
Are you listening
Can you hear the burning heartbeat of a thug
This thug who's blood has turned into liquid ice because his life has been
Sacrifice,
after sacrifice
This "True Hero Under God" who's chance to live up to that name has been stolen by these new aged gangs like Trae Mob
Thug,
father,
brother,
son,
stop,
Stop bleeding this block cause these concrete streets hold more ounces of blood than the whole human population
Thug,
my eyes can't shed any more fears for you and my soul can't bleed anymore tears for you
You have to grow up
Cause no matter how many times you call her that
your girlfriend can never be your ma
Your mamma
It's not her job to take care of you
It's not her job to raise you to be the man you say you already are but you are so far from being
Cause the world is stopping you from seeing
From growing
Baby boy…
Are you listening…
Cause I'm about to cause the last revolution
And the government won't have any solution to me
I'll hit harder than the aids epidemic cause see
I'm about to free the world from this self-induced slavery
This is your rude awakening to my world
This is your christening
But I have to know…
Are you listening…
Did you hear hip-hop's dying breath
Were you there or even aware when they put hip-hop to rest
So now we're stuck in this "crank dat" generation
But please come to the realization that if hip-hop is dead
Then it is re-incarnated in me
Consider poets it's revival
Cause it's depending on us for it's survival
It's depending on us to make you see
Clearly
that it still..
has…
a heartbeat
It still has a pulse pumping in it's veins
and this beat hungry beast can not be tamed
it's taking no prisoners as it's words spill from me
so it your feelings get hurt easily…
then I suggest you leave…
cause this fire flowing from me will give you burns in the 3rd degree
please just listen to me
cause if I could speak to the world…
naw see,
the world ain't ready for me.

I Am A Phenomenon

I am a phenomenon,
fire flows freely every time I part my lips,
it's translated through my very fingertips,
they blasted holes in the night to try and get it to bleed sunshine
But what they got was me,
And now the sky is darker then they even thought it could be,
I am Heaven and Hell's bastard child born from the womb of demons on the wings of angels,
A well kept secret, locked away
but ever since the day they set me free the 2 worlds have been on bending knee,
cause heaven refuses me
Hell's afraid I'll be the new owner
so I'm forced to flood the world with my furry that rains from the corners of my eyes till every poem I write turns into the tears that fall from the skies
so baby get it straight,
my name's not Shay...
It's S-H-A-N-I-T-R-I-A
So brace yourself,
cause it will be a cold day in Hell before you ever get a chance to receive another blessing like the one I'm about to exhale onto you,
but all I can do is breathe truth,
it's up to you to inhale the words I speak on the subjects taboo,
and I know that might scare you,
but trust and believe the world would be a better place if they would just shut up and listen to
we…me,
cause our voices have been silence for far to long,
let the words that I speak fill
your soul,
your heart,
so it can learn to beat to a different theme song,
GET UP
DO YOUR PART,
let my voice be a siren,
let it cause a chain reaction,
I want every one screaming in unison,
NO
you won't sentence me…we ,
my son
my daughter,
my brother
my sister,
my mother
my father,
not another soldier to the Iraqi death penalty,
If your jail cells are too full
might I suggest you look into setting some of those encaged angels free,
cause trust me
not everyone locked in Guantanamo is guilty,
they say the truth hurts
but not as much as the lies society has spread,
spit from the government's tongues unfurled,
I beg you,
throw up all the lie that you have been fed,
wake up from the nightmare that is our world,
let the government know,
that we are sick and tired of their pimping,
we will no longer be their hoe.
We will no longer strike down the innocent and watch them bleed oil,
Watch them water soil with the red water that flows from their veins
Watch their bones turn into dust
I refuse to pledge my allegiance to any flag that Bush owns,
My loyalty does not lie with this society that's screams about injustice but is in itself unjust
In this land were the garbage man gets paid more than the teachers
And the next pedophile could be you oh so loving preacher
They want our voices silenced, poets get no recognition
We, me, us word tacticians get nothing in return for spilling our blood on paper
Bleeding our lives from our souls on stages
we're just said to be going through rebellion phases
But despite judgmental stares I, me, we remain a phenomenon
Cause fire flows freely every time we part our lips,
It's translated through our very fingertips
they blasted holes in the night to try and get it to bleed sunshine
But what they got was we,
And now the sky is darker then they even thought it could be.

I Wonder What Language Angels Speak

I wonder what language angels speak….
It must be similar to the babble of infants cause those are the only angels I've ever seen
see, I fiend for the feel of the rain,
just so I can drown myself in the Lord's pain and with every drop I could wash away my impurities with the tears of angels and maybe my broken wings would heal…
But I'm forced back into the real world and my dreams shatter like fragile china and lay on the floor and I leave them there,
Cause like a child-
my innocence slowly turns to ignorance cause I do not know how to fix my mistakes and the shame is more then I can take so I run
and I try my best to fly but I stay grounded cause you can't soar when your wings are deflicted,
and unfortunately for me,
5'3 and dark skin is not how angels are depicted
And unlike the rest of the angels who's wings were removed and sent to do God's dirty work
my wings were never reattached,
and the only thing I was given was 2 Band-Aids to cover the scars on my back
I bear wounds created by the razor sharp scriptures spit at me from the serpent tongues of pastors,
I bleed the stories of the damned and all of God's bastards,
see
they remind me of me,
and it's for them I cry,
but my tears turn into nothing more than another crack in my mirror cause like my mirror I'm broken,
and no matter how hard I try,
I can't
be
perfect
But then again,
I don't want to be,
and you're not completely understanding what I'm about to say to you is an inevitability,
cause I'm complicated,
I always do but I don't,
I want to drop to my knees and ask God to just forgive me but I won't cause I don't consider myself worthy,
and I don't want Him to control me,
and I don't know how to be holy,
but my ignorance is bliss,
and all I can do is sit in church and believe what the stranger I'm told to call pastor tells me to believe about the father of a child a virgin managed to conceive?
…. but "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son", but last time I checked, Jesus was the one nailed to that cross dying, and I know it took everything in him to not start crying, and the Lord did nothing,
and you want me to call him Father? but who's to say he won't do the same thing to me, but I will tell him I'm sorry,
sorry that I couldn't live up to be the angel he wanted me to be,
sorry that I'm not perfect and I don't always understand what the pastor is trying to tell me,
sorry I didn't learn how to talk to you and pray correctly
So,
Dear Lord,
please consider this my formal apology,
I stand on this stage bearing my soul and giving you my heart in this testimony,
And showing everyone what a black angel can look like,
and despite my questions, I know it was you who blessed me with this ability to let the truth roll of my tongue in this hypnotic beat and be able to relay my message to the people that fill these seats, and maybe…
I could help somebody like me whos skin holds invisible scars that only they can see that entwine to make an intricate road map that leads to self-destruction,
self-corruption,
some one whos veins pump out self-hate so much so that it constricts the heart and makes it forget it knows how to sing,
but a wise man once said….
the best angels,
… are the ones with broken wings.

This Is Nothing New

I sit with my red permanent marker in hand and cross out the faces of my dead peers in my yearbook,...
Most were buried with that same expression on their face,
Yeah, that gansta-fied look,
This is nothing new,
Every year,
New book,
New faces to slash through
So I bleed the pages of my yearbook and leave it bloody with the exception of the crips that I cross out in blue,
See even dead,
They won't wear red
With the main crime that they are guilty of is wanting a family, they are sentenced to the death penalty, cause for their new "family" they go to war with each other, no not because of the color of their skin
They consider themselves better than Bush; a war over skin color is beneath them
They go to war with each because of the color of the clothes they're in and our government marks them down as nothing more than a simple casualty, these new age souljahs that are doing nothing more than what they're breed to be
And this, well this is nothing new, but I did write this poem for you, for everyone of you that have been touched by the lies society spread, for everyone of you that can be represented by someone in my yearbook I have marked dead, and not just the ones that lay under 6ft of dirt, but every one of you that people have some how managed to invert, everyone of you that just didn't seem to make it and found yourself incarcerated, every high school drop out that hides behind that purple haze, and whose schooling consists of only 75 spread out days,
Cause see…
You are dead…
At least from my point of view, and no matter how many poems I write,
I can't change the things you do…
So I sit with my red permanent marker in hand and cross out the faces of my dead peers in my yearbook,
But this is nothing new,
Every year,
New book,
New faces to slash through
So I bleed the pages of my yearbook and leave it bloody with the exception of me, that's why every year engraved on my yearbook is
"R.I.P."