Blog Archives

Still Standing

If you were standing here where I’m standing
looking at the blessings I see
after being through what we’ve been through
seeing what we’ve seen
hearing what we’ve heard

If you were standing where I’m standing
after overcoming the struggles we’ve overcome
enduring the losses we’ve had to endure
listening to the endless chatter of
how we’d always be a non-factor
failures in the making
hopelessly fall short of our goals
would never amount to shit
never be shit
never do anything with our lives

If you were standing here where I’m standing
after the numerous attempts
to take our livelihood
to kill our will
to enslave our soul
to beat our spirit
to smother our hopes
to murder our dreams

would feel every bit
as happy
as thankful
as grateful
as blessed
as I do
at this very moment

They tried to kill our will
and smother our hope
and instead of extinguishing our spirit
they ended up creating an unstoppable forest fire
a violent volcanic eruption
a massive wave of desire
that could not be turned away
by their shackles and chains
by their slave codes
by their Jim Crow
by their separate but equal
by their racism
by their prison industrial complex
by their systematic attempts to
block our tomorrows with their institutional Levies

If you were standing here where I’m standing
you would be smiling too,
because if they hadn’t done what they had done
we would have never discovered how powerful we are

We are
The Dream That Could Not Be Deferred




I may not be an award winning poet
I’m okay with that

I may not be your number one entertainer
I can live with that

My words may not be academic enough for your approval
That’s not a concern to me

My writing may not fit into your formulaic style
Conforming never crossed my mind

My spoken word may not have flair and theatrics
Tell it to your Slam committee

You probably want me to write more erotica
In my mind, revolution is foreplay for freedom
That ain’t erotic enough for you?

You probably wish I would be less serious
Tell it to the 99%
Tell it to the mother struggling to provide for her kids
Tell it to the teenagers and their hoodies
Tell it to the voiceless political prisoners
Tell it to the homeless man on the streets
Tell it to the soldier struggling with PTSD
Tell it to the innocent victim of rape
Tell it to the girl who was kidnapped and trafficked
Tell it to the innocent people dying in a war they didn’t create
Tell it to the lost soul trying to find its way
Tell it to your God for placing empathy in my soul
and the gift of words in my mind

You probably think I should write more poems on love
Love is the foundation for every breath I take

You probably think I should write about God
Who do you think is guiding my soul?

You probably wonder how much longer will I keep it up
The answer, until God tells my soul that my work here is done

Until then
I’ll continue living the only way I know how,


The Other Side of the Tracks

They laughed at him;
the staggering old man
wearing the stench of life
struggling to drag his
overflowing suitcase
to the other side of the street.

He bellowed
a loud grunt of frustration
as he gave a hard jerk to
dislodge his suitcase
from the death grip
of the tracks.

As we crossed paths
I didn’t laugh,
make eye contact,
look up,
nor verbally acknowledge
his existence
out of fear it would expose
my own issues that
I drag like shackles.

But I did ponder…

“How does anyone ever move forward,
carrying so much of yesterday’s baggage?”