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angela brown - poetess كلمات الأغنية

art of letting go

when i fell in love with you
i could not love another
i was willing to sacrifice my life
to my one and only lover
for the love and the intimacy
i was willing to take the risk
i was committed to a relationship
the one possession i admitted
fate was our relationship
this one, you one, i
would make us
as one, in unison
chancing odds against time
my heart had broken
into many pieces
when you said we’re threw?
i thought i’d die
and go to hell
until i got over you
now i am at peace with god
my heart has grown as one
knowing that i had found
a place in my heart
with the art of letting go

black or white

i neglected the feelings
i never expressed
hurt by your rumors
concerned and depressed
i felt sad and concerned
about the rumors you spread
unkind words and gestures
spit, speck, croon, mongrel
can do harm
there are days gone by
i wanted to say
i am sorry that you neglected my feelings
and treated me this way
if i could take back the anger
deep inside my heart
i would say i am sorry
and try a fresh start
instead
i was the idiot who cared
you would be more sincere
when you never gave a d-mn
about me and the kind person
i am
if we only tried to talk
‘bout the good in what all i do
just to think you would ever try
to get to know
me better

black-momma faces

she lay, skin down in the moist dirt
the canebrake rustling
with the whispers of leaves, and
loud longing of hounds and
the ransack of hunters crackling the near
branches

she muttered, lifting her head a nod toward
freedom
i shall not, i shall not be moved

she gathered her babies
their tears slick as oil on black faces
their young eyes canv-ssing mornings of madness
momma, is master going to sell you
from us tomorrow?

yes
unless you keep walking more
and talking less
yes
unless the keeper of our lives
releases me from all commandments
yes
and your lives
never mind living
will be executed upon the k!lling floor of
innocents
unless you match my heart and words
saying with me

i shall not be moved

in virginia tobacco fields
leaning into the curve
of steinway
pianos, along arkansas roads
in the red hills of georgia
into the palms of her chained hands, she
cried against calamity
you have tried to destroy me
and though i perish daily

i shall not be moved

her universe, often
summarized into one black body
falling finally from the tree to her feet
made her cry each time into a new voice
all my past hastens to defeat
and strangers claim the glory of my love
iniquity has bound me to his bed

yet, i must not be moved

she heard the names
swirling ribbons in the wind of history:
nigga, nigga b-tch, heifer
mammy, property, creature, ape, baboon
whore, hot tail, thing, it
she said, but my description cannot
fit your tongue, for
i have a certain way of being in this world

and i shall not, i shall not be moved

no angel stretched protecting wings
above the heads of her children
fluttering and urging the winds of reason
into the confusions of their lives
the sprouted like young weeds
but she could not shield their growth
from the grinding blades of ignorance, nor
shape them into symbolic topiaries
she sent them away
underground, overland, in coaches and
shoeless

when you learn, teach
when you get, give
as for me

i shall not be moved

she stood in mid ocean, seeking dry land
she searched god’s face
-ssured
she placed her fire of service
on the altar, and though
clothed in the finery of faith
when she appeared at the temple door
no sign welcomed
black grandmother, enter here

into the crashing sound
into wickedness, she cried
no one, no, nor no one million
ones dare deny me god, i go forth
along, and stand as ten thousand

the divine upon my right
impels me to pull forever
at the latch on freedom’s gate

the holy spirit upon my left leads me
feet without ceasing into the camp of the
righteous and into the tents of the free

these momma faces, lemon-yellow, plum-purple
honey-brown, have grimaced and twisted
down a pyramid for years
she is sheba the sojourner
harriet and zora
mary bethune and angela
annie to zenobia

she stands
before the abortion clinic
confounded by the lack of choices
in the welfare line
reduced to the pity of handouts
ordained in the pulpit, shielded
by the mysteries
in the operating room
husbanding life
in the choir loft
holding god in her throat
on lonely street corners
hawking her body
in the cl-ssroom, loving the
children to understanding

centered on the world’s stage
she sings to her loves and beloveds
to her foes and detractors:
however, i am perceived and deceived
however, my ignorance and conceits
lay aside your fears that i will be undone

for i shall not be moved

sacrifice

i watch time wondering
phasing in and out
contemplating thought
doubt, empty of holding reason;
but remains confused
with movement
to walk, to run, to crawl
is a struggle
bending, stretching, fainting
pushing for discovery
dancing for life
growing weak
failing, alluding strength
rested on mediation
as time sleeps
in deep sleep
sleeping, time rests
from reality
unaware of non-existence
time’s anger
demonstrates pride
as if life, so complacent
with time
mediating space
feeling loved has become
obedient to nature
is the ordinance of time?
a means of human error?
is life so consumed
with certainty of pain
that desire, a need, a want, a hope
a prayer is insolvent
of any imposition?
is our purpose in life?
chasing dreams of uncertainty
misguided in direction
and incongruent matter?
we live in the disparity
of doubt, of reason, of hope
that has taught us to be
indifferent to opinion
insubordinate to change
defiant to order
incognizant of reason
we fight, we plead, we cry
we challenge our fate
valuing the life
that has taught us all to pray

stay with me

stay with me
stay with me

hey baby
i want to know what’s on your mind
i want to know
if i’m worth your time

i’m worth the stars and the moon
you’re worth the sun, all the planets
together, we make the universe
traveling in the speed of light

we’re the stars and the moon and the galaxy above
we’re two in common creating the meaning of love
we’re the commits and the galaxy of stars
please don’t go
stay with me
don’t go, baby please don’t go

hey baby
do you have the time to spend with me?
tell me what i mean to you
you are what happiness brings

i’m happy, just having you around
i enjoy having you near
i feel so at ease
knowing you care

hey baby
can’t keep my eyes off you
and with the way you stare at me
i’m going to keep it true

please, understand
just how i feel
the heat we make together
gets hotter and hotter
burning and burning
deeper and deeper
hotter and hotter
our body’s burn eternally
the p-ssion inside
won’t go away
forever and ever
till be this way
forever and ever
forever and ever, baby
make it always be this way
as love burns

what a wonderful world

the spacious ski is clear
like heaven above is pure
hugs and kisses from mom
is worth all her love
what a glorious feeling
god has made for me

what a wonderful world this must be

raindrops shelter tears
from white angelic wings of praise
rainbows the color of unity
become learned lessons of the day
what a glorious feeling
god has made for me

what a wonderful world this must be

images of good health
become imprints in my mind
people, places and things
are worth all my time
what a glorious feeling
god has made for me

what a wonderful world this must be

as the imprint of their smiles
bring prayer to my days
love has touched a special part of me
in so many ways
it’s the air i breathe
it’s the food i eat
it’s the clothes i wear
it’s the people i meet
thank god for many things
here is the human nature
ere to healthy living
i am blessed
god watches over me

what a wonderful world indeed

world terrorism

terror standing idol
clear eyed
touching watching staring
in the eyes of fate
its escape
its flow
its fire
waiting
the memory of waking stones
recognizes promise
death does not say
speechless stones
cover ashes scattering
in the air
weeping tears
counting ghosts
the dark whispers for
instructions
lessons learned have gone gone goodbye
without notice without consent
weeping eyes
have wept meaning
speechless for words
cold unspoken words

blues

dance of death

mourning is hell
a rusted hand reaching out
into discovery
dead upon arrival
heavy breath whispering
into dawn
the winter cold
presses its roots
into the surface of my heart
blood drips from a palate
of forgotten silence
the dark bitter past
part of being removed
part of being replaced
part of being used
of imaging your presence
negating my life
emerging from death
engaging death’s strength
into a cavity of fire
death has pierced my soul
had death danced its last word
smiling, fading, smiling
gasping for life within
the arms of serenity
quietly purging hope
of no return
the hole in my heart bleeds
not knowing your presence
not knowing your return

grace of god

i felt love for god in my heart only because god showed he cared
my heart was broken many times by the ones i trusted most
god talked me through the hurt and pain and showed me what i am worth
through all my frustrations hatred of being deceived i learned to shut out the
world
god taught me how to set aside my anger by expressing my true love
i had learned to open and trust through what was once was broken
i could speak openly for the first time by sharing my emotions
i learned i am best being who i am and not no imitation
i have learned to speak my mind and not from altercations
i feel better with who i am and not from other expectations
if only i had spoken what i feel now it would be a start to a new beginning
why do i feel so guilty to trust, acting out of curiosity?
while i have so much to be thankful for god
has brought me many blessings
god gave me the gift to love

love from the heart

believe in your heart when i told you i love you, baby
believe in your heart when i say it is true
i love you, i really do

i’ve grown fond of you lying here beside me
love kindly creeps upon me when you’re around
all my life i sacrificed ecstasy
your lips, your hands, your gentle touch
has brought tears to my heart
forever yours

believe in your heart when i told you i love you, baby
believe in your heart when i say it is true
oh baby, baby, baby ah baby i love you
yes, i really do

you are a vision come true
your fingers strum my soul
each touch a melody
wantonly tingling against my skin
chanting sounds of harmony

don’t you believe in your heart when i told you i love you, baby
don’t you believe in your heart when i say is true
don’t you know deep in my heart baby
i only feel this way for you
oh baby, baby, baby ah baby
i love you
i really do

i lie down smiling
with my face on your chest
you should know
my entire life is determined
with your words that you express when you

believe in your heart when i told you i loved you, baby
believe in your heart when i tell you this time it is true
believe in your heart there is no other like you
who has come close to my soul as you

i love you

opulent

nubian sky
black as night
black misty dawn
black blue-black dawn
black radiant dawn
as radiant as black space
empty of presence
the sun changes into day
the moon settles into dawn
blue black sky
a radiant reflection
of flowing light
through the eyes of god
watching over me

poetess

i am a poet
i, feel movement
p-ssionate movement –
leaping words of emotion across the page
i expel gestures with conviction
i, surrender expression of joy
geeing meaning of agility and grace

i, am poet
writing verse in a beam of light
flowing lines of text through gravity
my poems are the universe in motion
whose words add meaning
centered on universal thought

poetry writer

voices climb effortlessly
through this gate of thorns
i become another
wasted suicide

i become a prisoner of stolen voices
empty hearts letting go
relationships pierce the gl-ss ceiling of my heart
i cry for all the life i love

i become the disabled poet
singing words into a barren sky
voices sing my name backwards
lead me into a dance of death

invisible wings
cover my fears
invisible wings
cover my scars

i pray for the river of life
where my feet dance joy
i cry for a river of love
where my soul flows

i am the old poet
of pain regret burden
i am the new poet
writing life back into my breath

sexting

it was the red tape hidden with muddied vision
persistently a condition of monetary pleasure
a measurement an instrument an object of desire used to
a calling a selection a submission of abuse
girls by example sexting a label a condition a translation
more money more problems
more money spent meant the more the girl felt loved
a value dollar all too often misunderstood

word power

there is something i wanted to say
if only you listen to my thoughts
words are confusing me, can’t rest my mind on what i feel
my emotions twist my words around
i can’t think back, it is not what it was supposed to be
why did you not respond to my actions?
actions speak in gestures
words speak in symbols
the matter of truth is misspelled
let us speak in honesty
you cannot begin to understand
what i am trying to say is…

i can benefit from the exposure
i write poetry as a form of expression
and i feel i have a need to have
my voice heard. i use personal experience
to communicate with the audience
through the images of expressing
metaphors, -n-logies and emotions
i reflect on cultural experience
to explicate meaning to p-ssionate words
that describe a state of being
found poems using words
taken from text
-n-logies, poetic themes used poems
words based on personal experiences
translate words from other languages
compared from shakespeare -n-lytical antidotes
my voice to tell a story to create images
to create emotions that give life
knowledge in relating a message
about personal conviction
about how i relate to life
to my struggle
i use talent to address problems
of the people behind it
that make others understand me
i am poet
i make a difference
in my voice
poetry is the mirror image of perfection:
its meaningful text, burns words for eternity

world terrorism

pick & mix
old age
a fading promise
is no longer
filled with laughter
no longer able to hold warmth
only sunlight reflects our love
our deed has p-ssed. i plea
once more, only to hear
you whisper again
copyright © nikki giovanni. from the visual verse project

interrogator
if given a choice
who would you want, and in what way?
what would you say, or be willing to change?
would you chance this moment, or be willing to die?
would you be yourself, or change your ways?
could we trade secrets of intimacy, or exchange lies?
after gained interest in each other, would you lose your mind?

1. set one love is … getting the answers to all these 36 questions right…
www.theguardian.com › lifestyle › relationships

first in line

how do i raise this child?
a father asks?
to take this chance
under a wispy gray cloud
i pray it would not rain again
for the longest time
i chance the idea
i hear the applause
i take a farewell bow
to take this chance
i found myself praying
what will become of you?
that you become a man

my kind of poetry, by melvin perkins

pinch an inch
love is worthy of any faith
laughter could not prevail its meaning
ten minutes of time after time laps
a note, doubled of each word
words p-ssing second by second
into a state of depression
bidding its last visit
occasional excuses, revealing lies
words approaching p-ssion
words approaching affection
from within the depths of our hearts
an unguarded moment from
a promise long forgotten
bid the p-ssing of dawn
dawn, by h. rider haggard

haiku anew
as the sun settles
beams of light are frozen
distant and afar

as the sun goes down
a green melon splits open
and juice trickles out
1. richard wright – aha! poetry
www.ahapoetry.com/pp1200..htm

blender
the kitchenette
we are the plan, an involuntary plan of survival. a gray in and city dream, of not having enough, willing to give in. through hard times, we pay the rent and have just enough to feed on the strength of hope. a scent of onions can cover the smell from garbage ripening in the halls of aria. like paying rent, feeding a wife and satisfying a man, i antic-p-te time. i could dream, though not for a moment. in the real world, i have five kids to feed. i dream of a better chance, a better life. life is an involuntary circ-mstance
gwendolyn brooks, “kitchenette building” from selected poems, published by harper & row. copyright © 1963 by gwendolyn brooks. reprinted by consent of brooks permissions

open book
laurel lynch
a golden girl dancer –
arms stretched
chest opened
sylphlike and strong
her footwork dainty
her movement quality
was anything but
p-ssionate and serious
was her art, that movement
internalized anything possible
she is an artist, who slipped
into wings, accomplished alone
http://www.dancemagazine.com/issues/february-2015/morris-golden-girl-#sthash.vyjt1dsv.dpuf dancemagazine.com – dance magazine‎

white out
how do we come to be here next to each other
in the night
where are the stars that show us to our love
inevitable
outside the leaves flame usual in darkness
and the rain
falls cool and blessed on the holy flesh
the black men waiting on the corner for
a womanly mirage
i am amazed by peace
it is this possibility of you
asleep
and breathing in the quiet air?
june jordan. “poem for my love poem” http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-for-my-love/
redacted
a healthy diet
results of good health
clamps down on weight loss
pounds coming off distress

1. what makes a healthy diet? – us news
health.usnews.com/…/articles/…/what-makes-

click trick
write
writing is
breathing
in and out
each second you begin
again
delimit. callaloo. “write it.”
redacted
——las night i had——
—awoke a cold sweat —
———with the ———–
—reality of a burden—-
angela brown. “distress”. black ink. 2014

picture, it
each
step is progress
each time you strive is pride
each move you make is determination
each time you wonder is a dream unashamed
every element you pace
you pace unselfishly
s – t – e
p – – — – – – s
! !
– angela brown. “snail”. black ink. 2014
cut it out
snowed-in in boston
the idea
to disappear
for a winter
without
a demon

– toi terracotta. snowed-in in boston, callaloo. vol. 37. #3. p. 512

all ears
the swing at the park

here, the way we go
up, higher and afar
down, lower beyond
swinging forward
swinging backward
dangling in free space
push higher and higher
beyond reach
escaping time
afraid of letting go
holding on to dear life

las vegas neighborhood park on tanaya and oakey

order’s up

dave’s amazing boneless wings
rich and s-ssy
wilbur’s revenge
the devil spit in it
garden fresh salad by the pan
down home banana pudding
made fresh to order
and sweet tea, by the gallon
by the watering hole
– famous dave’s barbeque restaurant on rainbow and lake mead

interloper
casino was a movie in 1995
that doc-mented a place in history
the earlier era of vegas
from a decade
placed a panorama of events
allowed us to see time unfold
ms. borg. scouting. “the vancuso pictures” unlv. 2015

off the shelf
daylight
before daylight
i discovered i had wings
and i could fly
for many reasons
i expressed freely
to discover
to stop, to catch up
with god
i opened the window
of reason
it is how silence disappears
into daylight

1. prerau, david. seize the daylight: the curious and contentious story of daylight saving time unknown binding – february 22, 2006
god’s time is discovering the cross roads for many reasons
2. franklin, benjermin. daylight savings time. journal de paris, on april 26, 1784
the window did not let light in, but being open, had let dark out
3. brett, peter. the daylight war: book three of the demon cycle copyright © 2013
we stop to fight to catch up
4. gordon, jesse. hours before daylight. ontheissues editor-in-chief, january 2013
to be free, one must master to succeed. one must see another in his own image and treat him with fairness
5. rumi daylight . a daybook for spiritual guidance . 2012
learn to speak by listening, so you will have the wings to fly
a moment in silence disappears into daylight

crowdsource
blues

my heart is all mucky
down, trodden-blue
my mind is filled in harlem
dreary days are doomed
day after day i’m trapped inside this maze
i’m dying, dying trying to escape
my soul trapped in phases
longing to come out
i’m crying, crying trying to escape
the discourse of my future
won’t go away
locked inside my mind
all p-ssion held inside
many tears have shed
have long wasted aside
misery gone, gone blown away
i’m fighting, fighting riding out the pain
the color of my heart is blue
mucky, down-trodden blue
verbal response. behavior healthcare option. on depression
as advertised
csn moto
we encourage
as we engage
we inform
as we educate
we challenge
as we listen
giving back to the community
is our purpose
in having our voices heard

csn chronical community board
on demand
dui
a sobriety checkpoint
is taking place now
on dui freedom
as you drive
the security of safe driving
officers shine flashlights
in your car
a concern of security
that detains the system
at a checkpoint
from drunk driving

https://tax.thomsonreuters.com/…/checkp.cops get owned at las vegas dui checkpoint
us.checkpointsystems.com/check point
www.copblock.org/…/cops-get-owned-at-las-vegas-dui-check en.wikipedia.org/wiki.check point
www.shouselaw.com/nevada/dui/dui-checkpoints.html. lvmpd>news>press releasecheckpoint
https://www.facebook.com/lasvegasduicheckpoints. las vegas dui/check point
www.duiblock.com/dui. recent nevada dui. check point
www.checkpoint.com. check point offers network. check point

substitute texter
in morality
a relationship with god
begins with a pure heart
finding truth in good
is a divine right
as clear as water
is free as a spirituality
faith will illuminate truth
my pact with god
is to be in his likeness
an inspiration to all good

goldman, karen. the angel book. simon & schuster. new york new york. 1992
replacement words: pure, good, divine, clear, illuminate, truth, clean, spirituality, free, moral
survey says
what is love
why is life so hard
when it ends with nothing there
when i come to my breaking point
and i discover it’s not working
if i were to change my life
to create meaning
my role would be to do
what makes me happy?
living out my dreams
i would first develop a relationship with god
and make an obligation to succeed
to determine the mirror image of myself
to become a precursor of my dreams

questions: 1. what do you want out of life? 2. what is the purpose of life? 3. what do you value out of life? 4. why is life so hard?

x:y
i speak of rivers

i know rivers
dry, salty rivers
of the congo, euphrates
and nile rivers
deep rivers
deeply rooted
flowing blood, bleeding
through my veins
rivers soiled with
bl–dy rivers
i know rivers
deep severity rivers
of the mississippi river
that embodies the lives lost
in the slave trade
flowing deeply invested
in painful rivers
bl–dy rivers
cold blooded
rivers
i know rivers
that runs so deep, once removed
from the atlantic, racy thoughts
suicidal, lost, forbidden truth
overboard i once lay in the ocean
of anxiety, the fear of dying
calling out, searching
wanting to escape
to be free, free
flowing from captivity
flowing for my life
flowing within my soul
crying rivers
flowing rivers
severity rivers
i know rivers
that flow deep
they are seeing rivers
who tells the stories
lying mercifully
deep social
rivers
i too
know of
rivers
langston hughes, “the negro speaks of rivers”. vintage books. 1987

quiet on set
a mother’s gift
as a mother, you want to give your best
never to give in, to confide in trust
chasing dreams, are bigger than hope
more precious than money, is the gift of love
money buys lies, envy and deceit
you can’t take back the pain of being abused
no matter what lies one says or does
the relationship with mother and her child
does the best gift a woman would want from god?

lear, norman. “a matter of mothers.” good times. 2015
best laid plan
your hand
for me
to lead and follow
beyond rage
have touched
the words of
love and loss
angelou, maya. “conceit”. poems. batton books. 1993. p. 74

shake it up
arrow pointing south

my body trembles deep inside my heart
a partied of emotions
an emulation
a figure
a stature
a rhyme
a remedy
an emotion
a tribulation
a rude awakening
my body trembles from emotions
an outburst of emotion
once silenced
alone
me
i
phillips. carl..” as from a quiver of arrows” from the devotions. graywolf press. 1998

roll the dice
in the cape of midnight
the sounds blow into
a lighted lantern of daytime
quickly unpacking a caper
the negros go quick
into a quarter of sunrise

randall, dudley. : cultural exchange.” the black poets. bantam books

chance walk
guided by a picket white fence
stood a desert oasis landscape
of red rocks, sharp pointed cactus and short palm trees
the sky was filled with grey clouds that covered the roads with fog
the damp air was cool and frigid
the path aligned the streets
with paved roads and hard concrete sidewalks
where the pedestrians will follow
with black hooded jackets and matching umbrellas
p-ssing, hurrying, running home for cover
cars go full-speed, fast making screeching sounds
as they go to an unknown destination
birds glide in loops distilled in air
finding food for harvest and twigs to rest
the sound of thunder claps in anger
as water trickles from the sky
unto the rusted tin roofs of nearby homes
and the storm begins

neiborhood walk around the block

spaced out
a photograph
silence is
an opening
of harvest
in heaven
where women
patch quilts

plummpp, sterling. “riff between silence”. ornate with smoke. third world press. 1997

spelling b
god watches over me
people of the world
are feeling great
that the air is clear
the water is clean
the people we meet

life must be
heavenly
because god watches
over me
the sky is pure
we are loved
the feeling above
it is a blessing
to wear a smile of praise

charles, ray. “what a wonderful world.”

dialed in
free as the wind
a bird floats downstream
dips his wings
back till the orange sun raise
claims the sky
a cage with bars of rage
wings are clipped and tied
sings a fearful till
the things unknown, but longed for
the caged bird sings of freedom
the singing trees and fat worms
the sky his own
a caged bird dreams
a caged bird shouts
of things unknown
longed for
a tune is heard
at a distance

angelou, maya. “the caged bird” from shaker, why don’t you sing? random house, inc. 1994

word power

there is something i wanted to say
if only you listen to my thoughts
words are confusing me, can’t rest my mind on what i feel
my emotions twist my words around
i can’t think back, it is not what it was supposed to be
why did you not respond to my actions
actions speak in gestures
words speak in symbols
the matter of truth is misspelled
let us speak in honesty
you cannot begin to understand
what i am trying to say is…

stay with me

stay with me
stay with me

hey baby
i wanta know what’s on your mind
i wanta know
if i’m worth your time

i’m worth the stars and the moon
you’re worth the sun, all the planets
together, we make the universe
traveling in the speed of light

hey baby
do you have the time to spend with me
tell me what i mean to you
you are what happiness brings

i’m happy, just having you around
i enjoy having you near
i feel so at ease
knowing you care

hey baby
can’t keep my eyes off you
and with the way you stare at me
i’m going to keep it true

morning

the day emerges
a magnetic prism of light
piercing rays at near distance
filtering beams into the sky

a shallow haze of grey smoke filled sky
hovers over the ragged topped peek
a m-ss of mystic beauty reveals
a white hallow to heaven

two meekly, poor white and grey birds
swaying through traffic watches
pedestrian objects move in in and out at a distance
afar a tall, gaping light

farewell

there is so much time and many things to see;
so many deeds to do and so many task to complete
as time p-sses and you continue to age
may you confront worries with laughter in an untimely way?
you made a difference in the lives of others that you’ve touched
the time has come to quiet your soul to a more peaceful journey

sexting

to my stolen child

stolen i cry i morn for the life i had let go many tears held suicidal thoughts not wanting to let go
there is not a time that goes by in thought in memory in prayer that i kept you on my mind
memories sustain holding you near my heart will wrongfully remain
can’t let go of letting go knowing that you exist the need the want of having you shall persist
as long as i know you in my heart i fear i am to blame stolen from my womb, unaware, my life won’t be the same
i walk low head bowed down hurt in an epitome of shame i live in the poverty of resentment for the life i loosed i am the blame
i confess i lived in sin the host of sin i lived a white lie tales of darkness envy infidelity and lust must soul lead to die
it was for this secret god had changed my life in chasity a decision an idea a legacy to strive
if only i had the will to fight for what is mine i owe my child an oath to whose will has defined my purpose
i wish you were here with me now, we parted for good reason

love

i felt love for him in my heart only because he showed he cared
my heart was broken many times by the ones i trusted most
he talked me through the hurt and pain and showed me what i am worth
through all my frustrations hatred of being deceived i learned to shut out the world
he taught me how to set aside my anger by expressing my true feelings
i had learned to open up and trust through what was once was broken
i was able to speak openly for the first time by sharing my emotions
i learned i am best being who i am and not no imitation
i have learned to speak my mind and not from altercations
i feel better with who i am and not from other expectations
if only i had spoken what i feel now it would be a start to a new beginning
why do i feel so guilty about being in love, while our actions act freely?

the blues

shifting afternoon

every day i find myself trapped into a daily routine;
time is beside its real, a dissident p-ssage of
oppression; contemplating the importance of matter;
decision of hard work and discipline
occupy, my dependence, to alter my sense of
competency; a frustration of getting it done
relies on my ability to sustain a work ethic of
resilience; mind over matter
a formality; often the invention of
the shifting day and a postulate time

morning

the day emerges
a magnetic prism of light
piercing rays at near distance
filtering beams into the sky

a shallow haze of grey smoke-filled sky
hovers over the ragged topped peek
a m-ss of mystic beauty reveals
a white hallows to heaven

two meekly, poor white and grey birds
swaying through traffic watches
pedestrian objects move in in and out at a distance
afar a tall, gaping light

song of solomon

the song of solomon echoes p-sses of faith
a mother’s fate has grown fond of
her son’s voice, soft spoken, remembered, sorrowfully
the winter chills purge throughout her body, timidly in regret
with the wretched pain, unwinding anger to let go
the burden of self-doubt, questioning the death of her son

only in vegas

i grew up in vegas, the city that never sleeps. where its soul vegetation is the dry desert clay and is surrounded by hard rocky mountains. the shrubbery is dense with the hard-pink rocks which surround cactus, pine trees and wild bushes with a hint of breezes that creates a warm pleasant atmosphere. the desert oasis brought to my intention the dry hot heat of the summer which makes the body wet and sweaty. it is said one could fry an egg and watch its appearance sizzle on the asphalt to eat for breakfast. it is hot. while in the winter, one could bundle up in layers of sweaters to avoid the chilly cold weather. the bite of the cold air of winter. the spring and fall are the most pleasant and cool leftover food in vacant parking lots, where they come in multiples of ten claiming their places in their nest called home. wild lizards and wild squirrels inhibit shelter outside our homes. sin city stands crowded with tourist bunking in hotel suites. tourist gamble in the big city lights of elaborate places to win money and for fine dining and elaborate shows. vegas pleasantness is sheltered with glitz and glimmer an invisible commercial form of identity separate from the sound, mystical landscape surrounding its essence. the grand canyon, red rock, mount charleston, lake mead and hoover d-mn falter its entourage that captures the better of two places from a man who calls vegas his home to the man who places his hat anywhere in vegas and calls its house his home. what stays in vegas, stays in vegas

reinventing words
the sex trade in african is sexting, the sex trade around the world is…. sexting is when young girls are sexually abducted and the ones who become victimized for money that is mistaken for love and they lose their since of reality. today, in rap songs women are disregarded by using names that the white man wanted to call black women in the past. where rap music today talks about hating other blacks, k!lling other blacks and hating women. in the past music focused on the struggle of blacks while having black pride. stop the violence of women being victims of mental violence by vulgar names used in rap songs. where music from old school talked about loving women. originally rap music called women prostitutes for the women who did prostitute amongst gangster using them to buy them things or to trap men with their babies. music today is going nowhere with violent lyrics and with the use of acoustics replacing the band. while rap music speaks in gangster language only the black youth understand. james brown represented black culture in his music, especially when he proclaimed to all black race about having pride in themselves to dark skinned people who were so wrongfully ashamed. why the caged bird sings when blacks share a dark past so readily ignored in mainstream america afraid of becoming a victim of what whites might think or hurt with the memory of the black past ever happened. farewell to maya angelou, may she always be noted for her verse of wisdom…

farewell

there is so much time and many things to see;
so many deeds to do and so many tasks to complete
as time p-sses and you continue to age
may you confront worries with laughter in an untimely way?
you made a difference in the lives of others that you’ve touched
the time has come to quiet your soul to a more peaceful journey

sacrifice

word power

terrorism

the black hope
coming together to unite
a black family is a need
and a reservation
to the tired black men
from a confused race
men, the inexperienced fathers
whose voice carries the
weight. an energy sources
needed to sort through
the anger, tears and
hope is needed
to heal the worries of
their innocent children

memory

when will, the clan of
tireless black men come to
realized the difference
of being a father and
deserting a child. making
a promise is internal. having a
relationship takes practice
how we socialize ponders
inside and makes us laugh

the men we reap

my house, empty
of the harmony
full of anger, his eyes, red
met my eyes in disgust
as he reached out to hit
his son. his words, slurred
with disgust from drinking
alcohol. the bitter cry of
despair filtered our home
to realize we did not have
a home, without a father’s
care and a mother to execute
a family’s love

crisis

how can a child stand their ground?
while facing obstacles in life? a
challenge will make them or break them
from bad habit. a broken child
inspired by hope, will vision opportunity
from the stones he faces, with his father’s
guidance

heroin

a boy died when he could not relate
to his father’s purpose to choose life
it was too late to respond to gunfire
that motivated his death. his father
failed to teach his son the courage to fight
the wisdom to challenge, and the insight
to spirituality that could have saved his son

the right of p-ssage

his father’s death became the source
he feared. he feared his father’s presence
afraid of being alone. his greatest strength
was his p-ssion of love, from which he was cursed
became his seed to carry on

- angela brown

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