(Sings)I wanna die sometimes I gotta keep it together I wanna cry sometimes living this life under pressure... The other day I had a dream that there were two officers standing over two lifeless bodies in the city of Flint Michigan. One a Black woman. And the other being a Black child. The officers then… Continue reading Home is where the heart is: A poem for the city of Flint..
Advisory: "Now keep in mind that I'm an artist and I'm sensitive about my sh*t". -Erycah Badu: If you do not like the language that I decide to use within my poetry, you DO NOT have to read. If what I say offend's your beliefs, and you can't back it up, keep it to yourself.… Continue reading My name is A•L•L•A•H•N•A: “You will address me as such”
I am love. I am existing. I am persevering. I am Black. I am Black girl magic. I'm so magical. I'm like a majestic queen. I'm like having a dream in the heart of New Orleans. I am royalty. More like Queen Latifah, More like Nefertiti, I am equal. I am glistening. I am The… Continue reading A Black woman’s daily Affirmation:
I say damn girl...look at those soulful and painful eyes of yours. Mysterious. Your sharp bone structure, and high cheek bones. Red undertones. I said look girl. Brown skin that glistens underneath the sun. Breast that sit up, perked to perfection in all its imperfections. Slim figure havin... Red lipstick wearin... Nas listenin... Poem lovin...… Continue reading High Cheek Bones, Red Undertones.. Queen.
Hey Black Girl, Yes. You right there. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Now you hear me? I know.. I know it's hard for colored girls like us.. We.. we be them colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf.. I know.. It be hard for colored girls like… Continue reading Dear Black Girl Smile..
I close my eyes and imagine.. I imagine you at 16 carrying this unborn being. Breathing.. Beat by beat.. Imagining.. Imagining a petite young teen, looking out at the world knowing that life ain't gone quite be the same no more. I now imagine you at 17.. Rushing to Hurley Hospital to give birth to… Continue reading An ode to my mother..
That girl looks in the mirror, closes her eyes, and begins to think... That the Soul is the Self...and the Self is the Soul. So who that girl be? Like girl...see these broken wings, They were meant to fly. That Black girl always been so shy, Yet that girl can be so fly. But that… Continue reading Poetry: The Soul is the Self..