Posted in poetry

Troubled the Waters

the waters that are taught to hate
so they drown the hopes of others.
Like Apophis rising from within the waves,
their prejudice torments their brothers.

the waters that are taught to hate
run deep into the South’s land.
Under bloody rocks and burning wood,
hate hails supreme from the cloaked man.

we are never protected from our pious evil.
We teach our youth the same ignorant beliefs.
But what if the world turned topsy-turvy
and their future became filled with grief.

would you trouble the water to hate?
Or would you swim against the tide?
Maybe you would seek to eradicate
the ignorance of mankind.

simply begins as a stream that trickles
passing indifference, it picks up speed.
When it reaches the jaws of the river
its richness fertilizes Hate’s seed.


Posted in poetry

The Twenty-fifth Hour

Love’s finest in the twenty-fifth hour
And all of time stands still
When night and day become like one
The hearts of lovers reveal.

With endearing words spoken only on a whisper
And sweet embraces that capture the soul’s breath
True feelings of the heart are given flight
When uninhibitedly we give ourselves.

Love’s finest in the twenty-fifth hour
When dreamers meet face to face.
Time knows nothing of a better moment
Than that of the heart’s embrace.

These sweetest engagements are sacred
An unmoving moment divinely sublime
Their union is like the sun and horizon
Consummating the short lifetime.

Posted in Daily Prompt, poetry

Ironic: American Wants to Save Something

We’re not warriors
Cause we pick our battles.
We’re not leaders
Cause we pick our followers.
We are nothing more than
Glorified missionaries in our
Own wasteland.
And we want to save something?
We’d rather protect ourselves
From without
As we fester within
Like a dying cancerous body
In cosmetic surgery
but unwilling to donate organs.
And we want to save something?

We jump the pond to play
GI Joe in the desert
or Big Daddy in the hills
We educate those unwilling to learn,
from our righteous indignation
and Christian morals.
Yet at home,
Our living are is cluttered
With dirty laundry,
starving people,
and rampant hatred.
Greed crushes
broken dreams,
and from our neighbor’s garbage
We feed the hungry,
rancid gruel,
chemically altered fuel
carcinogenic and cheap
making money, the American Way
We battle barbarians as they
and we destroy their lands
so our own go can go without
in the land of plenty.

We rant for walls
to keep out our
like thieves hiding
their plunder
Mexico, did you know,
about that, little Texas?
Or did you forget the Alamo
shown to you from
some Zinnless
The truth about Columbus?
The truth about Oklahoma?
The truth about charters,
Mother England?

We save the dogs
And electrocute the man
and put down the boys
and mutilate the girls
as the humane society pleads
for the safety of pets
while homeless children
are marketed
for profit by the department.

Our schools are a third world country
And our prisons don’t
Correctional Corps only avoid
the read (pronounced red)
by binding
black minds to
keep black lines
through free labor’s
Decades after
JFK and
and only minutes
after BHO,
We aren’t ready
with race relations
America is dying
Rotting from within
descending into hell
Ironic, right?
That we have to journey somewhere
To save something?


Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry


Met him once
outside a corner store
leaning against the wall
Skittles and pop
Funyuns and slushies
Walkman head bobbing to the beat
bad news boy
faded from too much light
he in darkness
shinning like
a beacon guiding be in
bad news boy
with a crooked smile
looking at me
skipping my heartbeat
bad news boy
from around the way
notorious for
making the girls
cry after making the girls
beautiful brown boys
with the bedroom eyes


I’m not a size six
And not flawlessly thin
I’m big-boned and ideal
Comfortable in my skin.

My legs are my milk
My thighs are my toast
My honey hips make the moves
As you make the most
Of what I’ve been given
To this temple, BE LOYAL!!
Respecting the curves
From a heritage so royal.

My body’s a construction
Not perfect, not thin
But it’s an entity
The perfect one I’m in.

Big-boned or thick
However you please to verbalize
From the comfort of my shoulders
To the lushness of my thighs.

I’m proud of my strength
Cause in one mighty act
I could support the world
With the curve of my back.

I’m proud of my soul
Cause in one articulate noise
I could persuade the world
With the sound of my voice

I’m proud of my intelligence
Cause in one intellectual inspiration
I could create a better world
With my imagination.

So it’s me, the thick one
Delightfully, not thin
I’m proud of my curves
And the sweetness therein.

Big-boned Girls, 101

Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

And you thought you knew

Those words
to that song that makes
you rock in your seat
and stomp your feet
is as fake
as these twig
wearing Sour Patch
hip hop name taggers
dribbling monosyllabic
one-dimensional words that don’t
touch a De La’s
Soul ring
because eye know
the real sound
of music that keeps passing
me by on the far
side of this random hopeless
hip hopelessness
because the real sound
is runnin’
laps around this fake hip hop
arresting music of any development
and none of these
every day people know
the ten
I see when I look
at Bonita thanking
the tribe for putting her on
a quest
to find some real hip hop
made me glad to listen to the
things that
You can kick it to
chlling because today was a good day
and you’re cool like that and digging planets
reminiscing to when you were
totally conscious of your style thanks to your teachers
listening to the children’s stories
so slick, smooth and
completely fresh
how it was all about just having fun
about trying to let young mc’s know how
to busta move
the good times that left
you feeling like you were a part
of the greatness

when can we get back to the
golden age
of hip hop?


Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

On the Edge

White-knuckled one hand holding tight
on the edge
of everything that I have
ever known
excited to be here
face-first into the unknown
fearing and loving
the possibility of my unknown
with the dying
sunset behind me
in shades of golden
blushes and honeys
white-knuckled one hand thrust in the air
on the edge
of everything that I will
ever know in your
gracious warmth of
love and encouragement
makes my aura glow
golden blushes and honeys
the known knows it is the end of one
and the beginning of another
so I face forward
one hand grasping tight
the other raised in praise
shrouded by the golden
blushes and honeys
of one day ending
breathlessly in the
sureness and
of this moment
I wait
for the dawning of
the new day beginning
breathlessly in the
uncertainty of this moment
I am on the edge