Outside The Box

5661e5e8910d147af22e5b60b38ae8ef

It is seeing the good

where good exist

and the bad too

without regard

to person or persona

It is passion

existing

in a universe

where truth is the only color

that matters

it is black balled fist

into the air

minus

the badge

of branding black power

to legitimize blackness

it is denouncing blackness

as a nation

it is a color

not a nation

it is nations

going underground

and bringing back a people

before slave ships

before slavery

before Africa

and America

before crack

and crooked laws

before history erased black Moses

and biblical laws

outside the box is back then

way back when

before the messiah’s eyes turned blue

back in the day

when his skin was brown

like you

It is keeping Saturday

when the world is Sunday

Sabbath

It is bible

outside religion

Faith

without being Christian

it is restoration

of a people

who ain’t been living

it is valley’s of dry bones

it is without waving flags

It is not expecting me to

celebrate freedom

in a land

where I ain’t never

been free

outside of the box

is honoring heroes

who were never

presidents

celebrating holidays

that ain’t on the calendar

it is rocking a fro

while penning proper English

it is nations brought in

while praising black skin

it is dred locs

without forged signatures

it is spitting salvation coated similes

to all people

without loosing sight

of who you are

it is sight

beyond the norm

call me anything but normal

this is life

outside the box

Erased

I dreamed in my mind

that the Earth seemed to never move

and the ships that sailed on it were slow and quite

they never sounded their horns

or went “Chu! Chu!”

the wind never blew

the stars never popped out of the sky

like silk sheets

and the thunder

never growled its teeth

the fish sat silent

still

alone

even they refused to move

just waited

until the land came home

all of it

everything was gone

the people were like zombies in every town

they went about their daily routines

but from sun up

to sun down

no one

made a sound

it was deception they decided to take it

either that or I’m lost in the matrix

surrounded by people that when they opened their mouths

it seemed they faked it

they would walk right through me

and then walk into the streets

as if with their eyes they could not see

I dreamed the worst dream

no more sun beaming down

no more dirt covering this hallow ground

instead I feel as though I am among graves

people who walk around as if with no brains

but as I stop

and I’m staring a dead man in his face

I realize that these people

have been spiritually

erased.

A Man

forever-my-queen-jay-bakari

I knew I would marry you

when I saw my dads body

lifeless and shriveled

when I saw his skin

crawl away from his bones

when I saw his soul

castrated

the angel of death standing over his head

screaming cancer in the loudest whisper

I’ve ever heard

bouncing off the walls of that apartment home

you see I knew

the kind of man I would marry

at just thirteen

when my Dad’s breath got up and left

didn’t take me with him

and left nothing

but the definition

of a man

If My Books Shall Die – Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge

woman-690216_960_720

Hello there love bugs. So, today’s Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writer’s Challenge as hosted by Colleen and Ronovan, is on the topic of OBSESSION (*imagines drum sound in head*). But, here’s the thing guys, I couldn’t really find, or think, of a quote on obsession I really liked. Soooo… instead I wrote a poem.

If My Books Shall Die

If my books shall die

I have labored in vain

I have swam through centuries

And ran years in someone else shoes

I have climbed mountains

And crawled under valley’s

only to bleed death

I have carved my obsession

Into paper using invisible ink

If my books shall die

 

I do not wish to live

on the tops of your shelves

Or faced down on kitchen counters

Or underneath your children’s beds

I do not wish to live

In the palms of your hands

Or standing next to Grandmother’s old picture

In the living room

Grandmother is dead

And I do not wish to die

I want my books to live

Not on top coffee tables

But inside of you

 

When I am dead

No longer among the living

Crack open a book written by me

And feel my breath on your skin

Hear my voice resurrect from inside an ancient pen

Watch my tongue dance

See my lips move

And witness passion soar from beyond the grave

 

I read James Baldwin today

And realized I was carrying his bones

In the crooks of my arms

 

If my books shall die

Then my words did not really contain life

But if my books shall live

What are you waiting for?

Go to your bookshelf

Resurrect me

And carry

My bones

 

******

030816_1826_writersquot1

Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge – Poetic Justice

Today I’m using one of my own quotes for Colleen and Ronovans weekly Writer’s Quote Wednesday Challenge. Today’s theme is Art or Artist:

I've always loved the look of wings on a pagethe way the wind blowswhen they flap against the airthe way they soartaking my mind with themThe wings are symbolic of freedom. To me writing is the most important kind of art because words live. To me, ink meets paper to create something spiritual. Not only can we see the beauty of words, but we can feel it. I would define my style of writing, poetry or otherwise, as poetic justice because I am always seeking to free people, to include myself, from the limited ways we tend to think and to feel. This is not always an easy task and so as I write, the keystrokes are heavy with the responsibility my purpose carries. The weight of the kinds of things that I write always looms in the background of the page as if daring me to go on. And this is always the moment when I know that I must.

*******

030816_1826_writersquot1

The Stella Spring Giveaway Starts Today!

Today’s The Day! The Stella Spring Giveaway is Under Way!

But quickly, let’s review:

The Stella Spring Giveaway includes paperback signed copies of all 3 books in The Stella Trilogy PLUS matching Bookmarks. The Stella Trilogy is a 3 Part Standalone Series about one woman and her family’s struggle for identity and freedom. By standalone, I mean it was written to be read in any order as a standalone novella. Short, sweet, and to the point, start at Book Three and work your way down to Book One. Or, read in chronological order, you decide! Already have this series? Win it for someone else! Have teens? This Historical, Young Adult Series is perfect for getting their summer reading list off to a great start.

So now that we know what The Stella Trilogy Spring Giveaway is, I have a surprise. I told you we were starting this exciting Spring Giveaway and that there will be 3 winners. What I didn’t tell you is that I have thrown in another prize!

3d828633-ee4e-49ae-9078-d36dbb944e16

2nd and 3rd Place winners will receive The Stella Trilogy with matching bookmarks, as promised. BUT the first place winner will receive an extra gift!

$25 Amazon Gift Card

  • Gift Card is nested inside a specialty gift box!
  • Gift Card has no expiration date!
  • Gift Card is redeemable towards millions of items store-wide at Amazon.com!

Spread The Word

Don’t be shy! Share This Link on your blog or across your social media pages. Let your friends know of this unique opportunity to win.  All that is required is their email address! Each contestant can only enter once. BUT extra entries can be unlocked!
(If you have eBook versions, this is the perfect opportunity to get this series in paperback, signed and with my special seal!)

You can enter the contest HERE.

The contest begins Today! April 12, 2016 and ends Tuesday, April 26, 2016 so there’s plenty of time to enter:  ENTER HERE

***********

*See What The Readers Are Saying!*

 

Kathryn Reed on Between Slavery and Freedom (Stella, Book 1)

“Yecheilyah Ysrayl takes us on a colorful and thought provoking journey through the eyes of a mulatto slave woman Stella. Generations later, Stella’s descendant Cynthia May has no idea of Stella’s life as a slave, nor the true identity of their bloodline. Since Cynthia is a racist she is in for a rude awakening. Stella is reminiscent of a wonderfully written slave narrative, a story of history and pain, it is a brilliant opener of the Stella series.”

Colleen Chesebro on Beyond The Colored Line (Stella, Book 2)

“By the time the Great Depression eases, Stella and her family move to segregated Chicago, where life is not much better. Aunt Sara, a school teacher, struggles to wait for the school district to pay her. Sara has made the step into white society by dating an affluent doctor and encourages Stella to do the same. After a discussion with Aunt Sara, Stella decides to pass for white. Sidney McNair is born and enters a white society where she had the freedom to go where she chooses and to buy whatever she likes. Stella has crossed the colored line.

Christa Wojo. on The Road to Freedom (Stella, Book 3)

“The Road to Freedom – Joseph’s Story is something of a prequel to Beyond the Colored Line, and Stella’s son tells us about his own journey through turbulent times when South fights hard and dirty to stay segregated. Joseph and a group of his young, impassioned friends want to do something about it but don’t know exactly what. Like the first book, Ysrayl works her magic of putting the reader into her characters’ minds to witness history through their emotions and perspectives. At one point in the story, the friends are trapped in their vehicle as it’s mobbed by a pack of violent racists. My heart was literally pounding at this point. I was horrified that anyone had to experience such ugly cruelty.”
***********

Ink Pen

Writing-freelancer

Dear Ink Pen,

No, just listen.

I want your lips

nestled

against the collar bone

Of this page

I don’t care that people do not hand-write anymore

I need you

nibbling at history

and touching passions

I desire your soul

pressed hard against my fingers

I need you

touching minds

and resurrecting souls

In private places

Let your hands roam their computer screens

Kissing the interior of their hearts

Freeing the thoughts of men

Leave us naked with hope

Vulnerable

And open with the desire

For your nose against the nape of our necks

Let us drink of the truth dripping from your mouth

The taste of light lingering on your breath

But first I need you

Your lips

Nestled

Ball pointed

Against the collar bone

Of this page.

Yes, that’s it.

Now

touch them.