it all makes sense…

they will mark you by your allegiances
your friends
when they are friends will smile
Do not trust all smiles
some are used to deceive you
you are deceiving yourself believing differently
be different it will serve to show your character
characters will pretend to be your friends
friends are more about what they do than what they say
listen to what they say it will show you what they mean
mean what you say when you say it
say it once if you say it with conviction it doesn’t need repeating
repeat yourself when you have to
you have to sometimes they aren’t listening
listening is important wordz matter
the matter is always shifting around us
around us there is lighting and magic
be magical when you can & get some sleep…


A poem to Brit Nicole upon the event of her being a thing…

Psalm 118:22
to one of the most outstanding writers to ever bless my city with staying here…

at every birth there is a gathering
an assembly of faces and waiting eyes
a pilgrimage like the 3 Wise Men
called by God to honor the Christ child…

When you were born
I wonder if the skies parted
wonder if the earth shook
just a little bit
under the magnitude of your delivery

they will call you by many names
some will sound like a force of nature
other less thoughtful words will sound like
a punch in the jaw
crass talons digging into the small mammal
living inside you

Be careful how you let them treat you
stand firm against the lies
they will tell your skin
you have always been perfect
you have always been important
you have always been awesome

they will compare you to things they are familiar with
tell you what you ought be
you are smarter than this
you are everything you wanted to be
waiting to happen
you are happening
you are an event
you are an awaking

you are…
you are…
you are…

When they find you.
After your bones have turned into rumors
and your flesh has become fertilizer
when the light effervescing inside you
has calmed
and returned to the MAGIC
that sent you

How they will mock the non believers?

You are a whirlwind,
you are a candle,
you are a lighting bolt
illuminating the the nights sky
you are shooting star
you are the perfect typeset
the words we need to hear

Pity them
they only see you
cloaked in their expectations
to weary and full of false pride sometimes
they miss the carnival waiting for the clowns
you better lace your boots up
Princess, Mother, Queen

they will see your throne and doubt the monarchy
foolish mortals
scared to look into the sun…


Talking to a friend over wine
on a spring afternoon
he asked me

What has you so worried?

All these C words littering my Community
Conceal Carry, Community Concentration, Capitalist, Christians, Conservatives,
Counter-intelligence, Cointelpro, Common Sense (or the lack there of),
Callous disregard for human dignity, Prison Industrial Complex
Complexion Consciousness, a lack of Consciousness, Core Values
Cowardice, Lost Children raising more lost Children and the disintegration of Common Cutsey.

They don’t see the things I see but seems to me
if we could just eliminate the letter C we may have cause to Celebrate…

April 12th at 5:10pm

The headline reads: Milwaukee Motorist, Teen Shot, Killed After Van Hits Child

what do you do when the demons
where your same skin
when the uniform of your assailant
is the same sneakers your brother laces
this land knows little mercy
vengeance is the rule
contrition is not absolution and
the good are plucked like snap peas
regardless of their pleas for mercy

there is no mercy here

what should have happened
what could have happened
and what might be
are funeral dirges

the truth is
we are alone here in the jungle
among the vicious, the gnawing,
the runners and the dead

when babies
innocent as sunrise
are stolen
who weeps for unknown greatness
or do we just blame their mother reckless

when men are target practice
when there is not one moment
to consider
anything but the moment
aren’t we all just doomed to die

call me
when the sun returns
when the love is more important than the blaming
and when emotional condemnations
are tempered with some solemnity

so much blood here
so much death here
so many mothers waiting
for son’s who will not answer

kinda makes you want to cry…

what is she?

She is a braille bible
what God feels like
her presence is regal
like saluted salutations
she is transformative
making me into a better me
she is closed lips, behind closed doors
secrets kept between her legs for warmth
she the kissing game, truth or dare and spin the bottle
she is fixed stars in the night sky
she will be there when you need her to be
to guide you
she promise rings, letter jackets and shared lockers
her style
compliments my style
the correct cord progression
over the right drum beat
she is what love looks like
what unconditional feels like
what passion sounds like
what faith will bring you
if you wait on it to bring you
everything you prayed for..

from streetcars to stadiums… or reporting live during the gentrification.

Apr 8th, 2015
the headline reads…
“Bucks Plan Envisions Arena Streetcar
$1 billion plan for new arena and other development would transform Park East land and tear down Bradley Center.”

behind the backdrop of promises
proposals and rhetoric
behind hidden intentions
behind suburban abandonment
a promise for the future
a bed full of nails
the sinking suspicion you want me dead
and the body after body poured over that anxiety…

and I am not lying about that.


there are days I write
her name backwards
trying to get out of it
get away from her
the obsession of chasing
wanting like lacerations
lost blood
fired starting pistols

she runs from me

told me that this would not work
that I should move on
assertions like an abscess
in my wisdom teeth
quickening my heart
but maybe she is right

or maybe she is the right one
or maybe I should get ahold of myself
not sure which or when and even when I am confident
it isn’t for very long

long for the days before I could
spell her name backwards
from memory trying to reverse the spell
she put on me
just really not sure how…