True To My Promise

I know I’ve changed

Keep it from my friends

They need me to be the same

Be the anchor in the sea of pain

I have transformed

Into the girl I am

I am changed

But I still love them

I hide and pretend

I have to keep up this parade

I continue to defend

And come to everyone’s aid

But I know

Who I am now

Is not who they need

I don’t want to mislead

I am changed

But hide from my friends

Am I demented?

Or true to 'My Promise'

Author's Notes/Comments: 

'My Promise' is from my poem 'My Promise'. I guess this ties into that poem and that's why my brain tied that in.
Written 12/18/07

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Out of Hand

Two skilled but sterile hands
Palms facing heaven,
Facilitate a child’s violent entry into the world,
Followed by a quick slap. It cries.
Cold and blinded by the bright lights it can’t
Go back, or question why.

The mother, lacking strength and senses
Reaches out her hands,
Craving contact.
Warm, wrapped in blankets, and
He begins his struggle from boyhood to man
With small innocent hands.

In the beginning all is hand
To mouth, always
Reaching for
What’s out of bounds.

A boy must suffer tears and burns before he learns
His mother’s world isn’t as safe as she told him.
And even her soft hands will sting
If she thinks she can’t control him,
She can’t forever.

In school he raises his hand to
Ask if there’s ever a reason to kill.
“For democracy and freedom”
The response thrills him.

Before long he is a young man
With hands that know too much.
His mother begs him to stay,
He thinks she’s out of touch.
When her hands go up in frustration,
He considers it her resignation.

His life is finally in his hands.

The man returned home in a cold black bag.
He was dressed and buried by two skilled
But sterile hands, palms facing the earth.
His mom still keeps hers together, to ask
God to keep her son
Safe –
In his hands.

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Deleted Scenes

Deleted Scenes featuring Sherlita


if time had the capacity

of being reversed, I would

peel mistake from

life's pavement,

intensify a warmer love to

terminate the frost that branched

on the mountains.

would blow my undesirable traits

into tangling wind and

watch them fly away

with morning cloak.


memory bank slowly dissolves

in the pockets of my conscience

resolving the lints of

a nasty disposition

the real love within me was missing

I was formerly known as

a shadow

aimlessly dodging reality

that was before I learned

how to sketch the sky

before the night

taught me to dream


now all i do is dream

facing Ugetsu's River,

imagining a dance of light.

a light that I should have

exhibited to illuminate

the affinity

of significant other & I.

see, I

used to spark the


used to spread

the wounds and sing the

blues in the highest octaves,

til lover muted horn. I was

way too insecure and too selfish.

was more concerned about the

things that I desired, until I

pushed love away.

now this relationship is dead,

frozed in time, buried beneath

the painting of a seagull. It remains

a hanging image of the past.


As I rewind the tape through those images

a part of me died forever

right where I stood, then sank to

my knees, albeit quietly

dreading the many nights abandoning

cold sheets, stray heart and the

struggle with my own struggles

the ties we made together

were only nooses

tied tightly around

the determination for us

to live in harmony

now my arteries are nearly severed

and I wonder if blood will ever flow

freely to that journey

that we once had

before the sharp contaminated blades

of insecurity

Author's Notes/Comments: 

a 1st time collabo with another poet from another site.

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Going, going....

Personal World

Evil thoughts I have in my head
Never wanted anyone dead.
I'm a gentle creature at heart,
Never wanted anyone to depart...

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Circus Act


You’re a tumbling toy,

balance act brother

floating in from somewhere new.

I’m seductive seating,

grasping your audience and attention

pulling the tent inside me.

Let’s break the barrier and bonds,

get down to crappy circus calculations

Of  when to ride and release.

So what’s it going to be?

One chance to stick it or hit it.

You’re a gaggling garbage clown

hitting the heights for laughs.

I’m a tottering trapeze swinging.

Grab the reins and let’s ride.

Big tent time,

dying to finish the finale.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My life is a circus act.

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Better Days, Better Nights

Better days, Better nights

Better wings so I can be in flight

So I sing so that I can ease this plight

Bigger dreams so I can reach my heights

I bereave the night because...

I can see the light

Better days better nights

Better soil that I can plant my seeds

Better oil in my soul tank called believe

I store heaven in my pen, so hell must leave

To old things I flee

Old things I flee...

Better days , better nights

Better fists so I complete this fight

Better gifts that I offer, my presents my write

when my ink hits my paper

I can see the light

It will be alright

Right Right

It will be alright.


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Facing My Fear

I stand before that which I fear most

I'm frozen in my place

If I turn away from this test I'll never know who I am

I try to move forward

But I feel something pulling me back

I turn around and hide my face

I'm such a coward

I clench my fist together as tears roll down my face

I grit my teath and think "I can do this!"

I turn to face my fear

I break into a run

No looking back this time

I feel pride for what I'm doing

I see others standing at the edge

Their backs are facing me

I'm running toward them

Now I've left them behind

I now look to see what I've won

But now I'm back where I've started

Now I have a new fear to face

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Funeral for Lost Innocence

She lies still on the couch -

not a sound can be heard -

and gazes at the ceiling,

but her mind is elsewhere.

Mourners - friends and family -

have gathered here to cry;

a beautiful prophet dies.

She still writes her poems

of sadness, loss, and hope,

but she has given up

on finding the help she needs.

She stays by her friends, but

times of innocence are gone.

Changes come suddenly,

and we can only hope

what comes now is happier.

So here we stand, watching

as the prophet's eyes close

and she passes to nothing;

we comfort each other,

'At least we knew her then.

Let's hope for the future.'

It's little solace, I know.

And the funeral ends,

deep sighs breaking silence.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sister - if you read this, know that I wrote it about you a little over a year ago.

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Hungry for a change

Hungry for a change

I’m so hungry for a change, this monotony’s the same

I am starving because my fridge is in chains

Monopolies keep playing these games

It’s making us insane, dreams of gain leave us so drained

Selling hope like cocaine in a desert looking for rain

Peasants becoming deranged, we kill to ease the pain

We bereave so many names

I will leave B-more estranged

If my people just harnessed a grain

Of faith then he would seek us

That single pebble of sand could turn into infinite beaches

I want to explore further reaches

Then this ghetto ass existence

I am an emaciated rebel leading a binging resistance

I see thugs anorexic, hear hood rats rumbling stomachs

The church is obese as they let the streets plummet

You see you’ve reached your summit

Just waiting on the trumpet summons

Naw get up off your fat religious asses

And help win some souls

Cause even in the summer my city still feels cold

We have to be tenacious; yo we have to be bold

We have to fight beyond this world

To break the devils hold

I’m sick of our murder rate climbing like the pop charts

I’m sick of these guns stopping these young black hearts

I’m sick of our own people tearing us apart

Divide and Conq, from nappy to Konk

This is no where near what our ancestors taught

I’m so tired of living check to check

I’m so tired of this mothafucking debt

I’m so tired of robbing Peter being so stressed

I ‘m so tired because I aint pay that nigga Paul yet

I’m left with such passion in my gut

A yearning in my belly, I lust for better luck

I bust sometimes to ease the pain, what a vacant fuck

I cuss and relieve the strain, but I really need a touch

Some up above love will keep me through this rut

The world is a brothel, and we’ve all become the sluts

Dust has collected on our drive; we have taken such a dive

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