a stereotype writes

I don’t like titles and I never felt
I belonged anywhere close to here.

Low self-esteem/ properly misplaced,
cleverly hidden by the smile on my face.

A real person in an artificial world,
encouraged to hate the woman I would become
since I was a little girl.

That aside, I know your kind – crater minds,
who perceive the world through that all-seeing eye.

Force fed the pledge
dislocated wings
pushed off the ledge.

and I know this to be true because she said:

“Don’t think
you’re all that
because you’re
light skin
with long hair!”

I remember the first time I heard that;
I didn’t know what it meant
and some days it feels like
I’ve been apologizing since

Force fed the pledge
dislocated wings
pushed off the ledge

Back to the unofficial intelligence
and unauthorized abuse,
artificial intelligence
is a modern-day noose.

But who asked me?
She -
the one who will be
typecast as the last to care.
I never belonged
anywhere close to here.

From slave names to trade names.
Labels. Labels. Labels everywhere.
Don’t worry about changing the world,
just change your hair…

because the aim is to become famous

and practice brand name spirituality.
Aren’t we all addicted to Versace and Niggas?
And just like the good old days,
isn’t the best man the one with the most figures.

Go figure.

i used to love her

listening to Ex-Factor

tears in my eyes

cigarette in my mouth

how did i get here

i send forth toxic emotions

spilling feelings onto the atmosphere

looking for a love that’s everlasting

socially numb looking for passion

with the emotionally dumb

faded and laughing

pretending it never happened

the fact is i loved you more than i loved myself

then suffered the consequence by coincidence

and you may wonder why

i’ve said goodbye to you a thousand times

and why i’ve written countless rhymes

in your name,

you’ reshaped my spine

in cursive it spells insane

the spell proclaims

my desire for fame

it will take a million fans

to abandon the memory of one dame

and i heard them say life is pain

hypocrites say love is lame

unruly i choose to love life like an old flame

symbolic thighs

your thighs remind me that ecstasy isn’t small or round. it can’t be swallowed whole and i feel shapeless around you.  misled by the sad song stuck in my head led to self-imposed seclusion. claiming spirituality, lured into reality i adopted an addictive personality.                     denied recreation. your thighs make this transition easier. from steel to flesh.

Unsolicited Influence

I’d rather fantasize

about the tattoo on Rihanna’s ass

than contemplate the fact that

billionaire corporations

don’t pay federal taxes.

Perhaps it’s because I’m black.

Now that I’ve played the race card,

you’re thinking

it has to be more than that.

I’m part of the 99%

which means my clique runs deep

but most of us don’t know shit.

We’re overtaxed,

overworked and under-fucked.

Wishing we had better luck.

We’d listen but had enough.

Drowning in sips and taking puffs

of our version of the finest stuff.

Don’t judge us.

Intellects and fools smoke weed

like the evil who rule need greed.

We’re just trying to eat

as they feed their ego.

Here we go

down that road again.

Heads being replaced with stone again.

Addicted to the rare earth elements

in your phone again.

It’s a cultural norm to be stupid,

poor and dream of being rich.

Naturally it’s just a coincidence

the funniest black man in the world’s a Mitch.

Oh, I wish I didn’t think so much.

It’s only entertainment for sure.

I’m just bored

and your stubbornness

is timeless – its point is mighty.

Feelings reign over me like Capitalism.

Distracted, I am living out a life

I intended unintentionally,

convinced I will be there someday.

Dreams fade into movies and music.

Living vicariously

we forget to love

with the same everlasting pride

that keeps you quiet.

Why am I always the one

who breaks the silence

for the sake of love

when transfixed by the formula

locked on your lips.

You’re inside of me.

Branded me.

Had me thinking it was design.

I want my freedom.

You want my mind.


i see you minus

the scars of time

shatter the misconstruction

in your mind

history lies

says you’ll never be

whole again

now you feel the hole

in your soul


don’t do it

don’t go



the soul doesn’t age

it either blossoms

or implodes


born again


more than sin


that we are

gods in skin


possessed by everything

but civility

ignorance and poverty

turned fathers into gold diggers

mothers into bloodsuckers

and children into snake gods



Hope. Chance. Karma

Malcolm X, Dalai Lama

Harriet Tubman, Obama

The desert. A sauna.

Your daddy. My Momma.

Somehow we’re connected

Injected. Detected then

Made whole again.

Always Faithful

Always praying

searching for quotes

that will provoke my heroic side

I am trying to save myself

Always running into mythical obstacles,

definitions of who you thought I was,

who I want to be,

who I am in the interim

Always looking for that extra something

that makes life feel real

Always writing


Always depressed

worrying about my next paycheck

cause no one’s checking

for a broke black girl

who sold her dreams

for trinkets, with pennies

to her name who refuses to do

something strange for a piece of change

Although I’m always flirting

with the challenging kind

in the back of my mind

I’m detached, perhaps it’s nature

It’s too cold for your soul to hatch


Always this

Always that

Never white

Always black

who accept the blame for the worlds lunacy

Behold, you’ll see I’m always looking

for you but you’re classified


Be obliged,

these eyes

to espy truth in the labyrinth of lies


The Help

You leave behind doubt

like footprints in my mind

only the dirty kind,

on my just mopped soul.

Moments before you arrived

forthrightly as if invited

I had Swiffer WetJet

all the threats of insanity.

I even washed the kitchen curtains

they were misery stained

with cigarette smoke.

I asked you nicely

not to track that

spit, grit and shit

on my just mopped psyche

and you waltzed in

without taking off your shoes,

disrespecting the rules

of this house

with your doodoo smelling voodoo

trying to kill my feng shui.

It takes me hours to clean

the smudge of grudges.

I’m getting tired of cleaning up after you.



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