Not Another Tape

Not Another Tape

Not Another Tape!
Not another state sanctioned assination
Not another black body to mourn.
There is a grieving happen all over this place.
This grief is for the pigmented ones…
our sister brother cousin ones
often suppressed, miseducated, envied yet hated ones
…it feels like a permeant state this grief.
How do you live when we always dying?
How you living … we crying?
To love under oppression is to be in a constant state of grief, lost, sadness, anger?
Fatha Baldwin named it a constant state of rage.

This rage is blazing in the bellies of us the tired ,fighting, resisting, ones
Yea you I feel you raging, you the fired up and ain’t taking it no more ones.
The old, young, wild, free, aa21b679dc31672cd48fe93ebb3de727bold, queer, conscious and laying your bodies on the gears, facing fear, protesting, yelling, campaigning, demanding, and building a better world, ones.
This rage is a flame burning in the hearts of weeping mothers who’ve buried children shot down by these systems.
There is a grieving happen all over this place.
This grief is for the pigmented ones…
our sister brother cousin ones.
Targeted by too many violent system ones.

This grief is radiating from all us.
The ones who hurt when people hurt.
Those who feel powerless to stop the assault on black, brown, poor, and anybody who refuses to bow to state violence.
There is a grieving happening all over this place accompanied by a battle cry.
One moment we’re crying the next fighting.
When you’re done crying how and why
on the backs of those tears
are what now …lets go… can’t stop now… . ‪#‎strugglecontinues‬ ‪#‎DiryArtBoi‬




Ok I’m going to try this blog thing again for the 4th or 5th time. I’m knocking on 30 and hopefully I’m ready to be consistant. This is me whispering secrets into the world wide web, weighting in on things politically, rambling , ranting, and raging my frustrations. More importantly this will be the place where I grow as a writer and protest with my virtual voice.

Today I’ll share this poem I wrote early this morning after watching DMX and Iyanla Vanzant. It stirred up a lot of emotion in me. Caught me by surprise to see a father and son in such pain because of addiction and infidelity. I know life long addicts like DMX who battle with substances for decades upon decades. I have been shaped by the wisdom gleaned from their stories of survival and triumph as well as sadden by the impact of their mistakes and relapses.  Much love and compassion for those in the struggle to love the addicts in their lives. Much gratitude to those  brave enough to share their lives as they struggle for sobriety.  May we learn how to be slow to judge and quick to forgive.


Its bubbling up and I don’t know what to do.


Usually tears from my eyes

are like blood from an apple

today they are welling up freely like the wind in chi city

Rolling over my body threatening to push me off my path

Bear down head first and lean into the pain

Just walk into the wind

Keep moving and you’ll be alright

Today it doesn’t feel that way

The well is over flowing

winds blowing and blowing

pushes me back, knocking me down

drowning in my own tears

can’t breath

Only tears

Mouth wide open I gurgle more tears

Where does such sadness come from

I ache for others

Ache for the pains that surrounds me

For the suffering I’ve survived and the suffering I know others still wade in

I ache for the pain I know my children will face no matter how may

protests I stage or poems I write.


this feeling

this knowing that there are things bigger than me

That I can’t control

situations I’ve created for myself

that I can’t get out of alone

its bigger than me

these things, people, systems

That eat at peace

Constrain my joy


it wells up in me sometimes

Silently invoking tears

even on the happiest of days.