Of Country and Family

I dare not say that I “hate” this country. That wouldn’t be an accurate statement at all. My sentiments about this country are those of family, a dysfunctional family. People that whether we like them or not are connected to us. Like in some of our own families there are people we don’t like, or respect and there are people who hurt us over and over again. There are members who we know at every function will show their ass and embarrass us. Even members we wouldn’t leave with our children or invite into our home. If we are honest with our selves anyway. There are traditions and ideologies, habits that have been passed down from generation to generation even though they are wrong and damaging. There are secrets and shames within the family that no one talks about, or everyone talks about. Some of the ties that bind us are those of the worst kind. But like a family, there are gems! There are victories and successes that others will never understand. There are shining moments of unity and displays of love that do occur. There are members that strive to be righteous, loving, compassionate, and respectful for what God has given them. Even the young ones who show up to every gathering with their pants sagging and new holes in their face, awkward hair, speaking a dialogue that makes any language seem simple. We love them anyway. There are some who stand up every single time and make us proud, and give us hope. We love them anyway. 

I do not agree with the direction that this “family” continues to go in. I do not like how we treat one another, but I have never lived anywhere else or been apart of any other family. All I know is to keep fighting for this one. To try again and again. To scream, to fight, to get angry. To shed tears and grieve and hurt for this family. This one. The United States of America. I am thankful for those who continue to fight with me, each in different ways. To the service men and women who had fought on foreign soil, given instructions by men behind iron curtains and hidden agendas. Whether right or wrong, service men and women who got out in the streets with their cousins to fight and protect the family name because ultimately we can’t like someone kick in our door, our loved ones are in there. To the soldiers and warriors who lost their lives fighting for their “household” fighting not to be abused, and oppressed any longer. Those sacrificing of themselves in the name of justice again and again. Thank you, I see you and honor you as well. For those who have watched a love one leave and stayed behind to raise the children, protect the home. Make sure their was a place for the wounded to return to, I salute you as well. I dare not say that I “hate” this country. What I will say is that like a broken family, I still hang on to the hope that one day things will be better, different, stronger and that we will overcome the pain and hurt that is destroying each and everyone of us. That we will deal with those secrets that are too dark and painful to truly comprehend so that one day our children and their children can enjoy the beauty.So that even if we don’t get to see the end of the season of weeping and mourning, they will. They will live in a time of laughter. 

Most of us get a chance to be great here. I get a chance to work toward making this a wonderful place to live and raise my children. When the pain becomes to much, I also get a chance to leave. For now, I am here. My children have never starved, been without medical care, they are happy, and safe. For the most part- they are safe here. They don’t know of bombs outside their window or a lack of anything. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t work to do. It just means that there is still something worth fighting for.







Watch “Hermitude – The Buzz feat. Mataya & Young Tapz [Official Audio]” on YouTube

This is what I’m on.
I’m grateful for the person who put me on to this.

Love and War Series: The realist poem I ever wrote.

I didn’t mean to break your heart I said.

My intentions to love you started out as pure-

I just forgot how somewhere along the way…
perhaps there was something that changed my mind..

But Lord knows if I could only rewind time, unblur some lines
manipulate every ounce of everything that is and was during that space and time in order to meet you in a different place

a place where there were no scars or broken promises to be used as weapons of defense

barriers of offense against us.

Tools of mass destruction.

This tendency toward war is killing us.

Revealing us to be two armoured lovers afraid to touch

afraid we’ll touch

Warriors don’t behave this way,

we say to ourselves over and over again.

This could end badly.

Bloody and Raw.

Riddled with shrapnel.

wounds that won’t scar.
Scars that won’t heal.
Fighting for heaven or hell.
Living in heaven and hell.
Fatal or well.
“Until death do us part”
means something different now.
Something, “thicker” now.

Something that keeps me breathing a serenity prayer

But I can’t keep breathing like this.
Nothing good can come of this.
We will suffocate in our desperation.
Infect every thing that grows
With dishonor and disrespect.

The war of love
Love is war
Love is more than war on love
And I can’t love like this…anymore.

Squeezed through a broken heart.
Lights dim.
Resuscitating something that will kill us.
Making monsters instead of mausoleum’s.

afraid to let go
We’ve already let go
we were prisoners of war who were just never let go
Why were we the last to know
That love had already surrendered.


A reminder…


God knew that today, even if just for a moment, I needed to not feel so alone.


Sometimes there is no poem.

No song

no shade of blue

no flavor of wine

no candles scent

no hallmark card or sentiment


there are no words

no promises

no apologies

no letters

or empty pleas

for things to be…



there is an awkward silence

or an uneasy stare

melodies unsung

pictures unsung


Sometimes no one does the laundry

no mail to open

no dishes to wash

no meal to cook

Sometimes the jokes aren’t funny

and the riddles don’t make sense

and there is no rhyme

and sometimes time stands still

and my will is void

and your words are null

Sometimes “this” can wait

and ” that” won’t do

and being in his presence is the only thing that really matters


Ok so I get it now…. Solange attacked Jay Z in the elevator because she is convinced that He and Bey are the Illuminati and are ultimately responsible for the Malaysian plane disappearance. Really though they had nothing to do with the plane because – that was all Don Sterling. Meanwhile Mimi was trying to show Nico what happens when a plane sinks in the bathtub.. and well that went left. Mayweather got a hold of the tape and was trying to get decorating tips and naturally needed a womans opinion so he reached out to Tiny by mistake of course. He really meant to call Miley Cyrus, but it pissed T.I off and he hit him…. after enjoying a cheeseburger and some Patron on ice …. none of the above mentioned parties have seen any of our missing girls though.



When I was a little little girl, I wanted to be a ballerina. I thought ballerina’s were the most beautiful people on earth. I loved to dance and to watch dance. I remember seeing my first ballet. The Nutcracker I am sure and thinking, the people moved like strands of silk across the stage. Watching dance was my favorite thing. I shared that dream with a grown up relative one day.

Their response:

” Ballerina’s have the ugliest feet in the word. Did you know their toes bleed? They mess their feet up so bad.  Are you sure about that?”

At another point in my childhood, I remember wanting to be a photojournalist. I wanted to travel all over the world and take pictures for National Geographic and CNN and the Smithsonian. I love photography and exotic places. I was convinced that I was going to go somewhere far away from the Haughville Projects, westside Indianapolis. I remember excitedly revealing that to my aunt. I must not have been more than 10 years old. I had been researching it. Looking at magazines and even thinking about the places that I wanted to go first.

Her response to me was,

“You’ll have to go to war zones, dangerous places where you might get hurt and be in horrible conditions. Are you sure about that?”

It was that day I decided I should be a teacher.

When I was a little older I remember wanting to move to Botswana. I chose the country for a class project and I was so intrigued by the place. I wanted to study the culture and take pictures of the land. I even went as far as to price plane tickets, sign up for information on lodging and guided tours. I knew that someday, somehow, I would end up in Botswana

I remember sharing it with someone else one day. Telling them how that was my dream vacation. I was going to Africa to take pictures and live in Botswana.

They laughed at me

“There is noting there- you wouldn’t last a day! Who goes to Botswana? Are you sure about that?”

I chuckled,

“Yeah I know… it was a crazy idea”, I conceded.

I don’t think I ever dreamt the same.


If only I had known about my wings back then…









For Our Daughters


There is a thief in our community
But he’s not taking our material things
He’s snatching the bodies of our little girls
The minds of our princesses
Taking their innocence and replacing it with
Teaching them about sexiness
Far too young

10 years old and across the butt of her jump suit reads juicy
But her mama pants say “Hottie”
So in her eyes it has to be –
just what women do

There is a thief in our community
Teaching our daughters how to grind in the clubs
how to dance like the girls in the videos
turning their smiley faces into nasty text messages
And freaky twitters
Cell phones full of sexy pictures
And she still sleeps with a teddy bear and a night light on

This thief is luring our children away
Even when we are present
And now 12 year old girls are being traded and sold as sex slaves
Snatched off the streets on the way to the bus stops
Out lines drawn on sidewalks aren’t for Hop Scotch
She’s been gone since November
The latest victim-
taken from the man’s house
The one that she met on Craigslist
( He said that he could make her rich)
Didn’t tell her turning tricks
And now her face is nearly famous-
shared on newfeeds and flyers discarded in junk mail.

Somebody’s convincing our daughters that being a virgin is a bad thing
And that having casual sex at 13 is the in thing
so by 17 she’s a sex fiend
but no red flags are waving because she’s nearly 18 and on paper that makes her a woman
who’s supposed to know all there is to know about life
about love
about men
or what to do when –
someone breaks her heart
or takes her dreams away
shatters her dignity
or negotiates her virtue
Someone has to stop this predator from hurting our babies, killing our mothers, raping our sisters, stealing our nieces- pimping our daughters

Where are their fathers?
Someone has to be their father!
There is no covering in our community-
Where is the accountability
For what’s been happening
While our men sleep, or work, or die –
Or vanish into thin air
We place flowers on memorials
Carry pictures in our pockets
Pin red ribbons to our lapels
Moan in the midnight hours
Like our grandmothers taught us

Go and warn the town the beast are loose!
And they’re coming through the radio
Seeping through our iphones
showing their faces on the t.v
Pictures in the magazines
Appearing at award shows
Dripping in platinum and gold
Making money off your little girls innocence

My God, let us stop this foolishness
Let us remove this destructiveness
Rebuild our fortresses
So that our children can play as children
And our daughters can bloom in peace.\



What I’m listening to this week….

Please take a minute to listen to the latest album by Liza Garza.  The passion in her work transcends genres and merges a variety of cultural sounds together. She is hip hop, she is folk, she is authentic poetry and vibrant spoken word. She is a beautiful Soul, a humble Spirit and an incredible poet.

I think my favorite track on the album ( this week) is entitled “Glorious” It starts out like a victory chant and then transforms into a war dance. The lyrics…. they’re like a conversation at the kitchen table with your grand mama. 🙂 This is what I have needed to hear recently. A a war dance and a praise…

Please check it out and let’s talk about about it.


Also check out some of her EAR ART and Handbags… 😉

Swallow the Sun


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