“She received the fruit of the rain at the beginning of God’s mouth
and rubbed her belly for a sense of serendipity
you can’t tell me she ain’t fierce the way she always
embarrass you with the truth.”
“Women of warrior blood
a ritual of stares for superiority
and one word never needs to be spoken
It’s in her eyes
that reflect a promised lake of fire
to toss her divided soul
that pulls at her like a chariot with two head strong horses.”
I always say I don’t have a lot of love/erotic poems, which is true. But when I do write it…
you got me – I be possum
belly down and ass up
fire on back and tenor sax between toes
ignite chi ka ba
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She say for her family
she do what she can
when in reality it be for her man
who wants another mother like her son
so she wipe both they asses / and then her tears cause it be from the same shit
too tired more / more tired than / her mother who
taught her how to stay
who lived and died the same way
the palm reader etched on her palm.
now that she know,
she can remain calm
when he comes to bed
smelling like fuck nut and dried saliva
he’ll say it’s all in her head
so she close her eyes and have nightmares
of forever being a fool.
from the poetry book, Pocket Honey Wind & Hips
It’s cleansing – the way the rain falls
Dampens and thickens clothes to my soul
now, I can cover myself like others
But / my twisted tongue prays
and the valley crumbles boulders on my shoulders
That only a man should carry.
then he despise me for not wearing skirts
Uphold other women for their softness and high heels
as I scratch the skin off my feet
for following his wide path and narrow view
That even he abandoned when he realized
it was a crooked way.
maybe he didn’t hear my cries of SOS
Or maybe he just wouldn’t admit
He couldn’t swim.
Their words inspire internationally. Boldly illustrate the colors of political change and voices options in curing our societal ills. Our fractured diction has been preserved through early works of Sonia Sanchez’s, “We a baddDDD People“. Maya Angelou spoke honestly for being sexually irresponsible as she grew to conquer her mystery as a woman in “Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water ‘Fore I Diiie“. And Ntozake Shange and June Jordan re-defined the writing style known as prose with lengthy poetic pieces. These two could quite easily and possibly be credited for the birth of “performance poetry.” I dare say we unanimously agree that these women join the ranks of men who taught us through their works the tools to envelop a devoted love for our community, children, and self love. Now, as I take on ownership of their continued path, I get lost for direction when it comes to being a selfless artist and balancing a successful relationship simultaneously. They didn’t write that down for me! Is it perhaps because they are all divorced and never remarried themselves? Do they know the answer? So… I wanna’ talk about it…
Why are all my sheroes single?
I have not found the poem or story that tells me how to be a vulnerable artist for a voice of people and then sincerely transform into his confidante and lover. The consistent downfall of my relationships are me not being afforded the space and freedom I need to be an artist. The process is very selfish and my partners understand that only 45% of the time. The other 55% is spent with their conscious or unconscious repeated attempts of trying to get to the root of my creative power. If I can’t practice my art with the space I need, I’m half a person. Which means he’ll only be getting half too, then we’re both unhappy and it ends.
There’s something intensely intimate about cooking a meal for a man
then having him hold your hand across the table and say / grace.
In between the “I love you’s”
this is how we reconnect:
I straddle and clutch on to him
for my dear life and he /
recharges himself inside of me with all I have to offer / then
me and my man we go out and change
from the poetry book, Pocket Honey, Wind & Hips