Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth, Thoughts and Ruminations


I realize I too often limit myself only

to my words and actions

and capabilities;

And that expanding my mind

is the way to break free.

But sometimes, I’m good where I’m at…

and isn’t that as much a part of being

who I am

as at any other distinct point in time?

I often think that

being still

or even refusing to move

has saved my life on many

an occasion.


09 December 2020
Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth


Can’t keep up,

can’t back down –

Speak optimistically

internally I frown

because maybe I’m doing too much,

though it feels I do little;

As such,

I quickly lose focus

and get to feeling quite bogus.

All of this feels…wrong

I feel like I just don’t belong:

Not even wanting to fit in

I just want to celebrate

my small wins…

Instead of beating myself up for

not conquering the entire mountain.

Scaling for score;

Still feeling there should be more.

Either something’s missing

Or I’m missing something.

Trade tears

For fears

I’m posturing

to hide my bad posture…

Tripping over self-doubt

Self-confidence won’t

come into the out.

I can’t figure out why

I kill myself

hoping to die…

In competition with only me,

shadows are always hard to see.

I’ve nothing to prove

to anyone’s roster –

incessant syndrome on the move.

One day, maybe,

I’ll feel less of an


October 4, 2020

Posted in life, love, New Work, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth


Don’t call me black,

Call me by my name,

call me by my humanity.

“Black” is one of the many colors

found in the crayon box,

the ink of a pen,

the darkness of shadow;

a shade devoid of character or light –

Yet, I am full of light.

Colors are ideals driven by perception,

Color is only surface.

Pigmentation runs deep.

The green of grass and in the leaves of plants

are not surface colors.

When they get wet,

their green doesn’t wash away;

it gets brighter

it is part of them.

Strip the bark from a tree,

it’s still brown

or shades of it

because brown is within its


My pigment doesn’t wash away or rub off –

my melanin is my crowning glory.

Neither of these are identifiers –

and I’m not simply a color.

Yes, I am melanated,


I am a person, a being,

of presence, of energy,

of spirit.

I am vital, valuable.

I am adequate.

I am wombman, mother,

I am love itself.

I cannot be classified,

I have class, and…

I am a class all my own.

These “identifications” only exist

to isolate me, separate me,

Invalidate me.

Don’t call me black,

Don’t call me brown,

don’t call me by what you see

on my surface.

Don’t you dare…

I’m more than just that,

I’m more than what is visible.

My layers are their own nature,

not validated simply by a color name.

They are a tangle of blood and bone,

muscle and vein,

emotion and thought…

of pain, and of love.

I bleed when I am cut

I cry when I am hurt

or happy.

I sleep when I am tired

I eat when I am hungry.

I drink when I have thirst;

I imagine, I ideate, I innovate.

I have goals and dreams.

I achieve, and I fail.

Am I so different from

any other being of humanity

that my identity

should be systematized by

a single word,

a color, no less,

a hue?

Is that all I am?

To many, maybe.

To those who know me, love me,

They understand there is more to me

than what the eye sees.

Call me by my name,

Acknowledge my identity.

Call me who I am –

Not what you perceive me as.

Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth


I adopted “klutz” and “clumsy”

into my lexicon

long ago when I actually believed

I was prone to

tripping, falling, teetering.

I’m now starting to see

that it’s hard to keep


when always being

pulled in every different direction

except the one you want to go in.

Walking a tightrope is dangerous

when it’s wrapped around your neck.


21 June 2020
Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth


I just sit
and allow myself to feel deeply
the emotional agitation
and pain and sorrow
that I absorb
from others
as I progress through my days
and allow to blend
with my own…
And I
hurt for every soul
who knows and endures
such agony…
Then I release it screaming
to the edges of the universe
tearing rifts into the cosmos
I imagine it
leaving trails of healing warmth
in its blustery wakes
as it leaves.
I take on every soul-shredding
letting it all crash over me
endlessly, violently, tirelessly
until it subsides
and there is no more –
of it to take, of me to give.
All is calm.
For the briefest of moments
I am vulnerable, exposed;
In the leftover shallows
between infinity ย and continuum,
I am no longer weak;
I elevate a little more,
I transmute.

Posted in life, New Work, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth

Know Me

Dinner tonight was

Ben & Jerry’s


a shot of rum;

Not melancholy or troubled,

not even stressed.

Just…reminding myself

that sometimes it’s okay

to eat and drink things that are bad for me

for the good of my own pleasure.

Now and again, indulgence is necessary.

And besides,

why in the hell would I ever

model my entire life after

beings of

flesh and blood and flaws

who don’t even know me

like I do?

Posted in life, New Work, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth, Thoughts and Ruminations, Uncategorized


Can’t be my own person

by your perspective standards

I’m too weak, too naรฏve,

too unoriginal

to think for myself.

It’s only when I disagree with you

that I’m wrong,

such contradiction –

you disagree with who I am

and feel justified

in doing so…

When will we learn that

double standards

do not equate to



17 May 2020
Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth, Thoughts and Ruminations

Question Truth

You’d rather gaslight me

than fight me –

You seek to control others

because your insecurity and

lack of self-control

are things you refuse

to acknowledge or face

and so all your inadequacies

are everyone’s fault

but your own.

Preying on the weak –

or praying you can weaken

the strong [around you];

Your arrogance the platform that

allows you to reinforce

your false reality

while causing everyone else to

question their own truth.


17 May 2020
Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth

Conversations with the Moon

I told the moon

she looks beautiful tonight;

She acted so shy

and hid herself from sight.

So then I told her I’m grateful

for her light –

And she smiled so bright

I had to shield my eyes.

Then she whispered to me


I shouldn’t be afraid to see

I thought she meant

visual sight

At first…

Then I realized I’d been afraid

She’d seen me at my worst.

But even when blind

and out of my depth,

she implored,

Remember there’s still so much left

To do…

Understanding reigns, above all else;

I never needed eyes

To see myself.