poetry, power, psychic poetry


Bring me to my tribe,
where first looks turn into starry eyes,
of the cosmic similarities
We share inside.

I have let the heat of my difference go untouched;
in fear that the warmth of who I am is too much.

It feels like protecting yourself
when your arms are lopped off.
Like the sculpture of Venus de Milo,
you continue to stand bravely,
Taking every verbal cut and scoff.

I don’t want this wear
to mold me into someone
I am not.
Bring me to my tribe,
enough I have fought.


poetry, power, psychic poetry

The Concord

The concord of thoughts swell my head into a fusion of sensory suffocation.

Pop; goes those aware.


ouch, poetry, psychic poetry

More Than Our Sum

Death is forcing yourself to love the thing that everyone enjoys taking for you.

Compliments on your work comfort you enough to convince yourself that, “this isyour calling.”

But your inner child screams, “this is only a fraction of what I am capable of.”

And your conditioned self continues to respond, “Are you sure?”


ouch, poetry, psychic poetry

Crawl In

I crawl in.

My body is elastic puddy; unable to coalesce.

No amount of interaction is able to change the make-up of my mind.
I am not fond of stillness either.

I tell myself that the lack I feel inside won’t last forever.
And while it is there to do what I can to buffer it.

True as the advice is, I hate it.

But not enough that rage replenishes the space devoid of action.
Not enough to convince me that stillness is better.

Resigned, I crawl in.
And let, rather than do.


family bonding time, i get it from my mama, My Mother is My Roommate

Mom cleaning the bed frame of the master bedroom…

Sept. 7, 2017

Me: What are you doing?
Mom: I’m cleaning so it will be in good condition for your inheritance.
Me: Why me? I don’t even have my own house yet.
Mom: Well, you should have one by the time I die.
Me: That’s wishful thinking. I like how logically you know that my younger siblings will have that in order long before I do.
Mom: *smiles*
family bonding time, i get it from my mama, My Mother is My Roommate

Of dire importance…

Aug. 27, 2017

Of dire importance, and spoken with a severity warning of mortal consequences…

Mom: On the third of September make sure to go to church to thank God for your life.