Rebirth.

Today is a new day.

But…

Nothing makes sense right now. Or I guess…nothing is supposed to make sense.

I have watched everything crumble. I have seen strong buildings fall and systems collapse. I have heard the cries of mourning and wiped the tears of afflictions.

I am not talking about society. I am talking about me.

Today is a new day. But nothing makes sense…

yet.

I am taking things step by step. I’m not sure what my story will be, but I know I have a story to tell. So, I will continue to write until things make sense again.

I will move forward with hope, because today is a new day.

Self Reconciliation (Revolutions)

Funny…

I had not realized I was at war with myself. This entire time God has been telling me to work and trust Him, but I did not know it was myself He wanted me to work on.

Last year was a season of discovery. This year is a season of reconciliation. Now that I have found the me that God created in His image, I must learn to become one with her. I must learn to let her lead and not my ego. I must learn how to create peace within myself.

After all, how will I cause great revolutions in the world, if I cannot direct the greatest revolution of them all.

So, my hiatus from creating is still in full effect. The most important relationship and project in my life is the one with myself. Everything else will have to be an afterthought.

 

Mixtape Poetry: Self Care

And tonight

I choose myself

Tonight I decide

I’m going to love myself

I have declared this before

Except this time I realize

Love is not a noun

There is action to be taken

Tending to my own needs

Nurturing the soil of my soul

Cultivating the ground for growth

 

Pouring into my cup

Wisdom

Pouring until it spills over

Tenderness

Tonight I choose to pay attention

To the language of my own body

What is it saying?

The foreign tongue of my emotions

What are they reflecting

About the world around me?

 

Tonight I choose me

Under the stars

I see my own reflection

In the faint light of the distant moon

I stand looking for no one

Waiting on no one

Because I am all I need

Sitting in the echoes of my essence

Basking in the ambience of my being

 

Tonight?

I choose me.

A new video is posted every Thursday for my Mixtape Poetry series! Subscribe to my Youtube channel to stay up to date with new videos! This is video 6 of 7

Future Love 2/14/2016

I rolled over on my side

This morning

And noticed an emptiness

That has always been there

But never felt so hollow before

I noticed you weren’t beside me

You never have been

But it never felt so apparent

The weight of your presence

Wasn’t creating a dent in my mattress

Your hands weren’t holding my waist

Your eyes weren’t watching me as I wake

Your breath wasn’t matching mine

I noticed how

I craved you

I missed you

You haven’t entered my life yet

But the space God has reserved

Is one to catch my thoughts

Significant enough

For me to feel glimpses

Of what our love will be

How our love will grow

The rooms we will decorate

As our love expands

I rolled over on my side

This morning

And found my thoughts

Lingering on

You

 

A new video is posted every Thursday for my Mixtape Poetry series! Subscribe to my Youtube channel to stay up to date with new videos! This is video 3 of 7

Focus

What am I focusing on?

The easy or the necessary?

I am not proud to admit I had dedicated this entire summer to what is easiest instead of what I actually want to accomplish. My initial goal of becoming a published author seemed so impossible that I scrambled to find something more “practical” to pour my energy into.

Then about two weeks ago I stepped inside of a bookstore and was reminded of my true love: words. I have to get back on track. I have to be courageous and hold fast to my dream. I will be a published author. I must only place one foot in front of the other and continue walking in purpose.

If you have gone through the process of publishing your own book, advice would be greatly appreciated! In the meantime, I will be researching publishers! Thank you for all of the encouragement along the way.

Misplaced

Would you do it?

Would you submit yourself to those things that are killing you?

Would you play with fire?

Would you continue seeking their attention?

Would you wear an outfit that’s barely there?

Would you inhale what’s damaging your lungs?

Would you sip the poisonous liquid?

Would you take the fruit and indulge in the forbidden?

 

Would you sit with those girls?

Would you be in competition with every woman who might have more?

Would you compare yourself?

Would you secretly tear apart yourself?

Would you pinpoint what you don’t like about your own reflection?

Would you call yourself a bad bitch?

 

Would you let him call you anything other than your name?

Would you give away pieces of yourself for free?

Would you allow him to raise his hand?

Would you cover the scars?

Would you….stay?

 

Would you hold on to the resentment?

Would you sleep with hate?

Would you live with bitterness?

Would you walk with hurt?

Would you?

 

Would you do it if you knew?

Would you use your jewels for play if you knew their value?

Where is your crown?

 

Why are you lost if the kingdom is inside of you?

Why do you delay when the promises await you?

Why are you silent when authority is within you?

Why do you accept what is given?

Why do you see but have no vision?

Where is your crown?

 

A new video is posted every Thursday for my Mixtape Poetry series! Subscribe to my Youtube channel to stay up to date with new videos!

Applause

And this is the part of my story no one claps for. Before the book is published. Before the speaking engagements are streaming in. Before a thousand people subscribe to my youtube channel. This is me.

Writing for the love of it. Working my a** off, and seeing very little get accomplished. Holding on to faith that this too shall pass. Learning to enjoy every step of my journey (even when the steps seem to take me backwards).

I am learning to love what no one can see. I am learning to celebrate every completed poem, every blog post written, every vlog posted, every project finished. I am learning to love the me before the celebrity, because it is only a matter of time before my persistence and consistency pays off.

Then, their applause won’t distract me nor validate me. Why? Because I was knew who I was before anyone else noticed.

This is She. This is me.

Rest in Liberation

Crushed velvet decorate pavement floors

Rich hues fill empty spaces

Tongues fumble into sobs

When words become inadequate

My brother is dead

 

He was not perfect but they call him monster

They name him Toby

And paint him in tar

They strip away his identity

 

Hands folded

Head bowed

My faith is faltering

 

Fist clenched

Guns loaded

My heart is a war zone

And I can’t think straight from the sound of bullets flying

Bombs dropping

 

Another one?

 

Fabricated truth tied around her neck

Strange fruit echoes in our ears

And through the eyes of my ancestors

I watch her body sway

My sister is dead

 

Oh it was done intentionally

But by who I wonder…

I am finding it hard to breath as the fabric of freedom crushes me

Every time those stripes flap against the wind

They lash back

Lynching my idea of liberty and explaining why it was never meant for me

 

My people are dead.

United we stood

Divided we are falling

Because I’m not black enough

Or you’re not conscious enough

What cultural responsibilities do we each actually hold?

And what does it really mean to have an excess amount of melanin in our bodies?

 

Justice is a dish best served alive

Not charred to empty it of it’s nutrients

Not fried to rid it of truth

Not cold to freeze over the passions

But with the blood still pumping

Come! Let me taste of the red wine spilt

Let me drink the memory of my brother

of my sister

of my people.

 

Give me liberty.

Because you already gave me death.

 

 

Tune in every Thursday for a new poem! 

Journeys Back Home

I wanted to journey across the world.

I wanted to plan an escape outside the state. California, New York, New Orleans. Anywhere outside of where I stood would surely bring me happiness and contentment.

The more I planned to run away, the more I realized I was trying to escape the wrong thing. It wasn’t about where I was physically. The discontent was growing inside of me and taking roots in my mental space.

A mental prison.

I really needed to flee my thoughts. They fly back and forth. They get high on possibilities then roll around in self-doubt. They ridicule and criticize every action I take. Every word that escapes my lips get replayed and questioned. Did I say that right? Did I offend this person? Did I come off as rude? I was on a self-inflicted rollercoaster of mental abuse and self loathing.

Now I am planning a different type of journey.

I am learning what is means to be present. I am understanding the courage it takes to not mentally escape and daydream my life away. I am learning to sit in my thoughts. I am listening to what the monologue constantly playing in my mind is telling me. About myself. About the lies I have chosen to believe. I am learning to be gentle with myself. I am learning to take control over what I thought was holding me captive.

One day, I believe I will travel. I believe I will explore parts of the world I have only dreamed about. But for now? I have to sit still. That is what God is calling me to do. Sit still physically and take a journey within. Explore myself. Learn the languages spoken in my soul I find it hard to interpret. Like why do certain smells bring to the surface old memories? Or why do I like feel a pain when I hear certain songs?

I’m tired of searching for home.

I am going to establish home within myself. I am going to watch how it expands, making love materialize.

 

Labels

I saw the word: CREATE.

Who is it that I am?

CREATOR.

Hm….has a nice ring to it. I am a creator. Hm…it also sounds a bit arrogant. Let’s take a step back.

The creator of everything is who I worship. And the more I reflect, the more I realize I have not created a single thing. Not a poem. Not a story. Not a blog post. I haven’t done anything magnificent enough to call myself a creator.

A more accurate word: INTERPRETER.

I see parts of the world others cannot and I interpret what I have witnessed.

Thoughts are difficult to convey so I translate common emotions and situations.

I am not creating anything for there is nothing new under the sun. I am merely picking up the tools God placed in front of my door. And I’m having a damn good time.