When I’m Gone

novel-writing

You don’t have to mention my name
Waste, not your resources
Carving my initials into the ground
Or on street signs and buildings
Not near corners
where future Martin Kings
Will sell dope and brawl
Until their quarrels leak
With the accidental stench of death
Over dice games
I’m sure King didn’t expect his memory
To be synonymous with the street
At which the next ghetto is named
Remember me not this way
Not on the front of your t-shirts
And flyers
And flowers as if my nose can still
Smell them
In your thoughts
You don’t even have to say my name
Build no fancy statues for me
Sing no sad songs
Instead
Remember me in ink
No need to write me down
In history
Just write me down in ink
Admit that every time
I opened my mouth
the earth moved
that I did not sugar coat
the splitting of the sky
when it birthed the rain and that yes,
I drowned a time or two
be sure to mention my mistakes.
But at least you can say that with every base in my voice
I played the truth
and that with the thrashing
of every keyboard my fingers
exposed the secret
behind
why every heart
beats.

Bravery in Ink

Good poetry is bravery in ink.

the audacity to exist without permission.

Without hesitation (like bullets in the backs of black men)

The exposed spirit

the sirens of the soul.

Good poetry is naked

the inward man undisguised

the words do not ask you to clap

does not seek for a sign

and only rhymes if it’s meant to

good poetry does not seek to impress you

its only goal is to speak the truth.

Do not add cream

do not add sugar

do not water down what is written with fancy words.

Take off your clothes (symbolically)

let the goosebumps tap dance on your skin

let the cool air move through your toes

comb your hands through your hair and laugh.

Dance silly

talk jive

drink wine

praise dance your metaphors.

Write without chains

(there are no slaves here)

transcribe your soul to the page.

Let it bleed

let it proclaim

let it sing

then you shall know what a good poem is.

Good poetry

is bravery in ink.

YouTube: 3 #Poems Added #Poetry #SpokenWord

I have slacked on uploading poems to YouTube but I’m back on it. Listen to new uploads “Addict,” and “She is,” and be sure to subscribe for notification of more poems. (Courage and On the Self-Care Movement have also been added.)

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Addict

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She Is

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Courage

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She Is

Photo by Diana Simumpande on Unsplash

 

She is Neo-Soul

And conscious rap

Negro Spirituals

And Motown

She is a jagged edge

And digital underground

Stokely Carmichael

And Steve Cokely

She is Luther Vandross and Jaheim

Destiny’s Child and SWV

She is smooth like Joe, political like Kweli

And rules like Deborah under the palm tree

She is no newborn

But neither is she ancient

Her mind is both fresh and seasoned

Experienced and innocent

She does not fit in, nor does she try

The world isn’t big enough to shelve

her

light is MC

Her taste

Souls of Mischief

She is a timeless prayer

And worth far more than rubies

She Mos Def does not seek to be understood

By people already committed to misunderstanding

Her vibes

Are not up for debate

She is classic literature

And urban fiction

She does not waver

She does not fold

She is

an old soul

Addict

Your scent lingers long after you’ve gone
I breathe you
Intoxicated by the integrity
of your soul
You leave and I lay in bed
inhaling your spirit
anxious for a whiff of your mind
hungry for a sip of your wisdom
dazed by the intellect of the lyrics you spew so effortlessly
I’m an addict for your words
Conversation is an intimacy
deeper than penetration
All these years
and we are closer
than when we first
met.

To Be Loved

Every living thing wants to be loved
We need it like the lyrics in our throats when the beat drops
on our favorite song
like the natural way our bones jump
and our legs twitch
and our hands move about
and we dance
Every living thing needs to be loved
like dandelions in a field trying to convince the world
that they are not just weeds
We hope someone will care enough to watch over us
And not transgress our boundaries
Won’t severe our flowers from their roots
Won’t pluck our souls
From its skin
We do not need to be picked and fussed over
We hope only, to be loved
To be cared about while breath
Still feeds our lungs
Hoping someone will love us intentionally
Like the giggles of a child
Free, raw, and innocent
Hope to be as valuable as the swell
Of a woman’s womb
and the protruding belly that everyone wants to touch,
but no one does without permission
The delicate miracle we all want to protect
and we hope to be miracles too
a surprising welcome worthy of protection
because every living thing
wants to be loved

Velvet Voices

Since 2015, The Velvet Note has consistently been named one of the best Jazz Clubs in Georgia, and I have the honor of headlining its first Author/Word event. “Velvet Voices,” is a thought-provoking series of presentations by authors, historians and spoken-word artists and premiers on Wednesday, August 21, 2019, in Alpharetta, Georgia from 7:00-9:30p. The series will run from 8/21 through 9/25, and I am the opener for the first show reading excerpts from my Historical Fiction novel Renaissance: The Nora White Story. Some fantastic poets will bless the mic, and it is also an open mic for attendees.

Enjoy thought provoking discussion in an award-winning, beautifully-appointed listening room. I will have copies of Renaissance, and I am Soul on hand to sign. If this series does well, The Velvet Note will incorporate it into its regular program. Get your tickets NOW and let’s make history!!

>>Get Tickets Here<<

(Be sure to click on the show for 8/21)


Update: This book is now Available!!

>99cents today ONLY<<

>>Free with Kindle Unlimited<<