Hello all–


Just in case some of y’all have been wondering, I have been writing articles for I’ve been focusing on writing about current events impacting the black community. If you are interested, click on the link below.



Happy Holidays!!


Do Me A Favor

Read me

Acknowledge my existence
Pull me from under the decrepitness and dust on the shelf
Take me home and try to understand my words
My pain
Why I strive to dance in the wind for so long I will be come one with it.
Breathe me
Make me a necessity.
Not just something you can’t live with out
But something that you may need to live without but it will be alright
Because we learned
We shared
We held love for what seemed like infinity
We released and moved on from this love.
But you’ll never want to.
Paint me
With your kindness
You ability to make all of life’s tasks seem like a temporary thing.
Draw murals in the citadels of my heart
Of which those from all over will see
Bared open, admiring in awe
Make love an art
Be so virtuosic that there will be none other such as this for over a thousand years.
Be blind
So that you can learn to love me in the darkness
Feel me out with apprehensiveness
Sense my aura from a million miles away
And yet, see me for all I am
Don’t be my hero
Don’t be my knight in shining armor
Don’t be my prince.
But do it for yourself
For you were all that to me at hello.

Euphoria ***Updated***

hotboxed in a fog of dopamine
your lavender reverberates
your aura is a seductive tango; a silhouette of angst and tension
Your hands a fortress, constructed of my innermost desires in their bodies
I have said nothing yet you seem to know enough to write a symphony all on your own
Maybe that’s all that needs to be said, all that needs to be done.
Disarming my nerve endings with thine eyes.
My heart skipped the last stair and tumbled into the darkness.
I am excited for wherever you take me.

Untitled 12.22.15

I hate having to be the peacemaker

The martyr of your broken promises and lost dreams
One immature and the other brimming with anger
And I, the cross breed of both your problems.
The best planned mistake, representative of your union.
Both from worlds unlike their respective ones.
Unable to see their differences
Unwilling to grow
How can you spend half a lifetime with someone without acknowledgement of their presence
How can you force someone to change their true selves?
Jealousy and regret make for an unfortunate situation
cohabitation is treacherous under such standards
How can two people, beautiful as separate
Be so ugly and gruesome united?
How to tie a perfect knot?
If two ends are shredded, they need not come together
Once reconstructed, a tight bondage can be formed.
Until then, they are left at both sides.
No future, no history, nothing at all.
Left wondering, what if life were different?

Thunder and Lightning 

I drink thunder, spit lighteningI am an addict for the moments when I can lock myself in a room and hear the silence and paint masterpieces with my emotions

My words a cradle for unborn dreams and aspirations

I think that I was made to do something like this.
I drink thunder and spit lightening because that is all I am given. 

A tumultuous storm; waiting in the distance.

A violence anticipating havoc spread across an orange horizon.

I am filled with might; overflowing with charisma and magnificence and flooding with power.
I have been told that I have become militant. 

That is what society wants me to perceive however.

If having a firm head on my shoulders that understands that our plight is my fight then put my on the FBI’s most wanted.
Discouraged from accepting untapped strength, subservient to the future.
I drink thunder and spit lightening for the mere fact that it is too obvious that I can take down anyone who stands in my way. No circumstance is too great.
The best thing I can do is light ’em up.


So I have been posting a few of my poems and I appreciate all who have complimented my work. Poetry has become very essential to me and I want toexplain  what it means to me.  So here goes!
Poetry is a heartbreak of the best kind

One that you can constantly replay over and over in your head

Feel a stinging pain in your heart so many times that is starts to feel normal

Poetry is a sigh of relief

That first tear that you promised not to shed

The outcries of shame that you vowed to keep secret

That red box filled with old dreams that you have on your dresser which you pass everyday but never have the courtesy to acknowledge
I conceded that I want to be a poet today.

Not for money or notoriety

But for pure admission

Soul cleansing

I feel as if I am not worthy but no poet ever is
So for now, I just call myself a wordsmith and settle with that.