For My Sensitive Soul(s)

I absorb it feelings, thoughts, emotions, dreams, fear
its in you, it is me
super sensitive
indigo child
they don’t understand you
you can’t help but feel them
you the creative, crazy, lazy, foolish
dreamer one
who they love to share their pains with
“stop being so sensitive”
the mantra of our lives
indigo child
don’t shrink back
paddle don’t drift in the sea of feeling
gifted stranger once twice removed
from that distance unnamed place
bathe in the awkwardness of your experience
continue to dream your way through their judgements
they don’t understand this ancient beam
they can’t see it but I know
you are a rare cosmic African glow
you have been here before
so of course you observe and absorb more
yes you are soft squishy and malleable
but so is  love
so is the water
as is the light
As is above so is below
mysterious… timeless your sensitivity is essential

We Just Joking

laughing, treating, cracking, busting, burning 
dirty dozens thats how they love here 
laughing through the pain 
hate swopping, absorbing, cathartic pain performing
thats how we cope here 
rehearsing,prepping, inoculating each other
for the abuse to come

“yo mama” jokes … a family sport 
a link in the chain of the armor of survival 
a hilarious verbal exhibition
tear down to build up
chemo type tradition
developed to ease the cancer of oppression 

we all heavy from dishing and carrying 
trunks, buckets, and  backpacks 
on plates bursting with tough love
over-comers covered in scars 
from wading in the wounds of survival 
treating, cracking, busting, burning 
dissing,schooling, and exhuming hate 
through verbal fists to cuffs 
it gets messy and it hurts but its so funny
so we just keep joking and laughing
to soothe ourselves 

Words for Amiri Baraka

From this amazing warrior writer  I learned the power and necessity of righteous anger and cultural expression in the struggle for freedom. It’s  been hard articulating my feelings about the death of Amiri Baraka. He was was a voice in the wilderness when I was trying to survive a white bread evangelical christian college in the hills of Pennsylvania, his words so sharp so powerful so unapologetic gave me the strength to speak truth to power for myself. So many poems so much love for African people for black people in America and the music me make. Its hard I’m sad like I knew the man. The man who wrote the praise of the Blues People and shouted Somebody Blew Up America will always be an inspiration and now as an ancestor  his words echo through our hearts keeping our feet to the fire.

Your Eyes Speak

Your eyes speak volumes
but I hear nothing
non verbals roar with emotion
I hear nothing
I peer in and see fear and longing but hear nothing
those eyes , a place where warmth and lust use to reside
and where so much is always being said
I hear nothing
have I lost my ability to hear or translate
did I tune out or have I finally tuned in
where is the twinkle where is the passion
where is the longing I use to lay in
the love I dreamed about wrapping myself in
fantasized about dissolving into the fire in those eyes
your eyes speak volumes
but i hear nothing
non verbals roaring with emotion
I hear nothing
I peer in and see fear and longing
but hear nothing
those eyes
a place where warmth and lust use to reside
where so much is always being said
I hear nothing
 isolation my inability to hear fills me with fear
so I step away not wanting to look into those eyes
The place where warmth and lust use to reside
where clarity and love carried me closer to you
where peace and fulfillment ushered me into the place reserved only for lovers
with a voice that booms and inspires like children’s laughter
and a murmur that chills and sooths like a kiss to the forehead
all that sound is in those big browns
now as I look silence is all there is to be found
but I know your eyes speak volumes

2013 Transgender Day of Remembrance

A moment for 

A moment for those who walk around, between, and above genders. A moment of silence for innocent blood shed simply for being who you are. This moment is for those of us who’s ability to be true to self is a matter of life and death. For those of us who know  life is more than the need to check male or female. To those who walk among you with love, pride, and respect though our contribution to the spectrum of humanity is often misunderstood, neglected, and abused. Thank you to all the family and allies who’s love, pride and respect doesn’t depend on our ability to fit into societies’ boxes. Much gratitude to those who made the path a bit easier for me and much appreciation to the elders who still hold us up today.  

Sip Drink Taste Your Love

Don’t make it difficult for me to worship

love’s honorable chore

I just want to worship you

Can I sip your juices ?

Wade in your waters?

Savor your flavor?

Don’t make it difficult for me to worship

You stir up hunger in me

Lay down and spread em

Allow me to satisfy my hunger at your alter

your are what you eat

I just want to taste you

Thank you with my tongue

Massage my face with the

Bush along the gates of heaven

Partake of the bliss between your thighs

I just want to worship you

Breath in a new vibration

Through you

Breath with you until

You are we

Allow me to worship you

Bless me

Just let me

Sip Drink Taste your love

Your masks don’t fit me

I ain’t grinning

ancestors wore the masks so we wouldn’t have to

I could hustle but I’m no hustler

Wannabe farmer

Trapped dreamer country muppet mouse

Locked blocked in by concrete

Barely keeping pace in this rat race

its not designed for me

I have to leave too much

behind to win

the masks don’t fit me and I’m all out of grins

Frustration upon frustration

Every move with you feels like stagnation

in this great nation

our babies are born into the crosshairs

For breathing and simply being

anyone of the many shades of we

Even after death

characters endure assassination

names images always under attack

putty, fotter, objects in arguments for

talking boxes, racist threads, smug pundits, and

viral video after viral video of

self hating, shucking, and jiving talking heads

betraying me portraying we as the enemy

for a crust of master’s bread

a few dollars and a pat on the back for the lies they spread

they enjoy wearing a mask that sets them apart

they are lost in the grinning and the lying

a growing satisfaction  with crumbs

and hopes of a seat at the table

warms their hearts

you’ll go far if you aren’t like them niggas over there

Uncle Tom, Clarence Thomas, Don Lemon

affirmations pierce the conscious of each generation

You fear the boogie man

And before you knew me

You were taught I am he

Who lurks in the dark

Standing on corners

Natural born thugs

Big black buck

Too be worshiped feared and adored

cheered in stadiums convicted in court

But rarely the first employed

Always suspect

My prospect

The latest in the long line

Of suspicious ones

Tall dark handsome

Mischievous one

Big hearted lost one

grasping for self in

pimping  always sexing rarely loving

Cause that’s what’s force fed to me

hyper masculinity just another costume

new age mask

But I ain’t grinning

teeth grinding

Even in my sleep

Cause my T’s too high to weep

ancestors wore the masks so we wouldn’t have to

I could hustle but I’m no hustler

Wannabe farmer

Trapped  dreamer country muppet mouse

Locked blocked in by concrete

Barely keeping pace in this rat race

its not designed for me

I have to leave too much

behind to win

I tried but your masks they don’t fit me

Skittles Tea

I’m on ten

so much is being said about Trayvon

I don’t want to speak

the thought of it  fills me with anger

and hopelessness

but I know I can’t give up

I know this is what the beast does

this is white supremacy this is injustice and this is not new

we know this beast oh too well

and that is why though angry and sad many of us were not surprised

it happens all the time

on  grander scales everyday

multiply one black boy dead with nothing but skittles and ice tea  in his hand

with over 100 other unarmed black men killed by men in uniforms just last year

with all the women raped last night

plus all the black and brown bodies behind bars

fighting for sanity struggling to hold on to their humanity in the the dungeons of the PIC

plus all the seniors on fixed income who are hungry and huddled around boxed fans in 80 degree apartments

counting the last of their medications which are slowing killing them to keep them alive

but what does all that have to do with Trayvon they will cry

there will always be those who deny whats clear as day

they are invested in the myth of white supremacy

they lust after the spoils of capitalism

they benefit and profit and find comfort in it all

whether consciously or subconsciously

their just happy to be middle class or at least not one of those lazy poor people

they believe he must of got what he deserved

so much is being said about Trayvon

its a sticky hot summer night and I am boiling with sweat and melting in tears

its just another painful reminder

we still 3/5s even less than that

the stats of this judicial system boast

so the struggle continues

yes “we who believe in freedom can not rest”

but I don’t want to be equal with white

in order to be valued

After all shouldn’t freedom equal rest?

talking about why the verdict was not guilty

trying to find reasoning in a corrupt system … insanity

I’m so angry I just want to punch Zimmerman’s smug face

I don’t want to kill him

he’s not worth blood on my hands

just punch him around a bit

let him know we see right through you

you are the suspicious one

with your brown skin worshiping whiteness

upholding this status quo

murdering a child thats a special kind of low

what makes us want to have children in a country

that continues to devour our young, starve the old, and jail the strong?

Sometimes it gets thick

the weight of this struggle

the reality of our plight

sometimes injustice spits in my face

I weep and wipe sour saliva from my eyes

tonight they are stinging with the pains of a good cry

tonight slow sad songs are playing

my liquor is pouring

and I’m humming along for my life

for the lives lost and the burden of those still living

today I read of a black woman who watched a old white man

shoot her 13 year old son

he accused him of stealing  guns

what made him think he could

look this boy’s mother in the eye one moment

and shoot her son point blank the next

insanity, white supremacy 2 sides of the same coin

I weep for him for her

for those of us who walk in the skins of the “suspicious” ones

for every woman who will be told she deserved it

for those of us who’s capacity for greatness

is overshadowed by lust for power, control,

and the comforts of an identity rooted in the misrepresentation of we

tonight Luther,Jill, Chrisette and Kem

are singing me through my grief

I’m grateful for the way their voices

guide me to the depths of sorrow

with gentle romantic soothing alto baritones

their melodies remind me pain is not new and love is still real

every lusty, sultry, melancholy note screams

its ok to be angry, to weep, and to love as the struggle continues

A Summer’s Night

A summers night

sweat pulsating dripping down browns

rolling over curves sliding between

layers of musk and hair

I still remember the smell of her hair

silky curls grazing over my back

I loved feeling her hair in the small of my back

tickling along my arch increasing its curve along the way


A Dark summer’s night

to hot to do anything but sweat

and burn in sex

dissolve into heaven between her thighs

sip of her juices

swallow her whole

feast upon her feminine essence

slip between her chakras with the tip of my tongue

loudly panting quietly praying her wonderland never ends


A long summers night

to hot to do anything but sweat and drink

drink in her love consumed with passion mesmerized by her lust

no lost in lust


shifting together moving on up a little higher

sinking deeper one into the other

deep in our sweat we drift

submerged in the waters of ecstasy

thick dank dark sweaty ecstasy

time melts the night swelters on

we disappear enthralled in the heat of sex

lost in the embrace of a summer’s night


DirtyArtBoi 2009