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The Help


My job is to wait for a calling. Help those who have no one at all and then fall back when I’ve helped enough. Falling back hurts though, but what else am I supposed to do when my mouth is tired of talking.
 I get tired of people and become robotic. Unable to function because there are daggers in my chest and if I move too fast my heart will bleed. I silence myself for protection. It’s called the silent treatment for a reason. it’s the best remedy for a poet with a sharp mouth piece. 

People will show you when they want you to shut up; so don’t speak. Silence Can be filled with inner turmoil or  peace. Lately it’s been a war between both entities. Not  being able to speak with the ones you love is appalling. Bodies depart but the essence of love remains.

 I have no control over where the lord places me, and obedience is a charm of mines, so I adapt to my placement perfectly. I was reliable, patient, loving and kind. I sacrificed for my sisters. I watched faulty circumstances crumble free-spirited women. I cared for the children. I bent my back for those who were broken from bending.

 A listening ear and a swaying sword to seize the tongue of whispering demons. I watched their circumstances change as their strength was regained. I caught subtle signs that my service was no  longer needed. The only thing that pisses me off about the departure is the shots thrown at me, aiming  Straight for my love piece. 

I love with no limitations, and put myself in a box, cutting off the life line to my own aspirations.Some people don’t seek  the integrity of independence and  become  complacent in their ignorance. They don’t realize that it was never in my description to mend wounded hearts or repair broken souls; that job is done by God alone. 


My job description was the “help’’ not the healer.

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The Help

My BLACK IS

My black is beautiful. My black is powerful. My black is intellectual and spiritual.  My black is white, brown, green, yellow, and purple. My black Is universal; a movement to the moon.  My black is a song: a rhythmic blues. My black is strong and unapologetic. My black is love and hate tied bitterly sweet. My black is pleasurably pain. My black is momentum, my black is silently pleasant and loudly intolerable. My black is deep like blue and curvy like spoons. My black is still water and moving tides. My black is closely and remotely Beautiful.

False Prophet

  False Prophet He speaks words full of fire thats strong enough to burn the soul.  Tongue filled with promises that turns any woman’s cold heart into gold. I am a God! King of kings and upon the flick of my fingers you will be cursed fool!  Weep at the bend of my knees, you as a woman should shower me! Fulfill my desires and expect no Loyalty from me the Unholy God of Kings of Kings. False Prophet cant you see, my soul can not be altered by man whose flesh ages and bleeds. I am a Queen made from the father of land. Coil me in dirt and see my true skin.  Wrench the water of Poseidon from out of me down your legs and turn back into the weakened flesh that binds you to sin. Open your eyes and see the breath of life in my air! The reigns of passion boiling in my heart and the 3rd eye between my brows that causes you to turn away from me. Be aware of your played out interactions, selfish satisfaction and the unsolicited grievance you bring onto yourself. Look at the beautiful black Queens

Im Not Supposed to Think Of You

I wonder if you know how true I could be to you You just don’t know how you freed me I am no longer imprisoned in my head Every day I challenge my mind and try to do away with wasteful thinking but... I’m not supposed think of you Slow, long kisses those are my favorite. When your lips touch mines a million stars start to shine. I can’t help but think do you feel like it’s that amazing?   I catch a glimpse of you, head tilted, hands gripping my thighs, so much passion through those glasses. Those soft lips and gorgeous brown eyes.   I feel your energy clashing with mines. Your sensuality with my sexuality it’s a match that can’t be denied.   When we entwine we send the heavens shaking disrupting the angel’s peace. I wish I could keep you with me   But I’m not supposed to think of you It’s not just the intimacy that I’m attracted too, it’s that big beautiful brain that blows me away. Something about the knowledge you keep that has me wanting more and more of yo