Ebonics and other sounds: Another Pro-Black Poem

The pastor told me

to never complain about pain pray only,

I used to be the girl who needed to hold me

someone carry with caution, sensitive fragility

Yea she the old me

I aint the only one who loves, the God above who sent the dove God’s homie

olive branch, peace keeper,

another chance, peace seeker,

not lil chano from 79th, but I still had to be home before the street lights came on

183rd street to dolton and harvey

where food deserts leave people starving

5 mile walk til the nearest ALDIS


She is majestic, apostolic, mean collard green concocting comic,

meditated comedian,

if you are melanated you’re premium

not regular, not unleaded

She is light– green lantern

Light the night sky so very black

Black panther, no hearts,  black fits,

we don’t stand, we sit to protest the national anthem

black deaths been happening social media just act one scene one

I open my twitter feed and black death is reruns

they giving sons free guns, no person of color freedom


OH how I love America the country that illegal adopted me

who kidnapped me to labor while she leisured

meanwhile political temperature rising to a fever

Oh How I love America where skittles arizona tea, cigarettes

being black in this country is a reason for death

6 foot 7 foot 8 foot brothers in one casket

burials and home goings but justice ain’t forthcoming

wondering how we gone get past it


every resource, precious metal can be found where we settled,

indigenous, native blacks

sporadic middle passage passengers

sewing seeds germinate the pastures

assassinate the king, Dr. King the pastor

We don’t need another civil activist to no longer act captured

Rich soil, but poor people

kinks and coils moisturized by black castor oil

4C  hair products found in the ethnic aisle of products we share

meanwhile we clowning on Gabby douglass for her hair

For the culture,
A culture of violence of white supremacy and we still manage to be black

Yet see black as the enemy

A frame of mindset set in movies where the plot won’t change

potted plant, plot of land,

No Harry Potter, the master’s hands,

I’m a master piece, no magic damned

I don’t rap but you can catch me at the slam


God gave me words,

verbs love in action

not trying to make anyone else happy, just try to reach my God’s satisfaction


The very God who is the very to my good.

The utmost to my highest

Extra to my ordinary

The burden of my rhymes gets heavy but it ain’t nothing a strong black woman can’t carry


Trees like us get cut down

but the roots are still there

We say their names cause we the trees still here

and we still care


Being black makes you an economic commodity


my lack of modesty but don’t let them twist and change the prophecy and neglect or reject the prodigy

our ancestors had breast on they chest that feed a glutinous country

leaving no one hungry

and sorry not sorry if i sound angry

but i’m gone put this bluntly

We are a people of the land of milk and honey

We possess ambition and drive with no car

With no book, We possess wisdom and knowledge

and fact b: some of our ancestors couldn’t even spell college

And here we are at this university facing all this adversity with one common audacity


To grind to keep going knowing that

We are a people of the land of milk and honey

it ain’t a fable

how mama put meals on a table

with no money

We are miracle workers




Make New Friends and Keep the Old: Sike!

“Make friends, it’s easy” said your parents or possibly your teachers. To a certain extent, the task of making friends has a low level of difficulty. Making new friends is easy, especially when we use the term friend so loosely, when we truly mean an associate or at the bare minimum someone we “know”. Only requiring saying your name, maybe revealing a few shallow attributes about yourself, and if you’re really about that life showing a tad bit of unexpected vulnerability, forming friendships seems quite simplistic.  With such a big emphasis on broadening your horizons through networking and creating valuable relationships with your peers, I think we ignore a huge aspect in the cycle of friendships—the decline and death.

“Recently, I just exited a long-term relationship.” Who says that… when they’re talking about a friend?

“I had to break up with her” I explained to my close friend.

I look at friendships as real relationships whose end involves a break up. I can’t do that whole “stop texting, stop calling, avoidance and evasion routine” in which you pretend that you and your friend are gradually growing apart. I just can’t— that’s not my style, unless that friend didn’t mean that much to me, but in that case I have to ask were they ever really my friend? See, I’ve learned that some of the most harmful notions in the world are assumptions. Assumptions are used to make things easier for us, or another person all the time but they never give us clarity, and when we lack clarity, we often don’t know what the next step is. Assumptions lead to confusion, delirium, doubt, fear and insecurity.


Let’s say I see an attractive guy. As we walk past each other, he smiles at me and I smile back. He says, “hey” to me. Immediately, if I let my mind run amok the situation can escalate. He must like me.. why else would he smile at me and make such firm eye contact?   better yet most guys don’t speak to you so if this random guy who doesn’t even know me says hi, then he actually probably must be planning to say more than hey to me again the next time we cross paths God willing.

Now I may be exaggerating but honestly I’m too creative and so are the assumptions I am so ready and willing to impose. I hope even my over the top example can serve as a notice.

Just cause the guy said hi doesn’t mean he likes me. He could be simply a friendly guy, he could have smiled because he’s in a good mood because he recently earned a promotion at his job. Maybe he smiled at me because I was awkwardly smiling at him first and I was completely unaware of it. Either way if I were to make the assumption that he liked based off such a trivial encounter I would most definitely receive a blow to my ego in the form of subsequent feelings of rejection after I realize truly how wrong I was.

Moving right along, I don’t want anyone to assume how I feel about them. I want to clarify, demystify and leave no individual guess on how I feel. I’ve been left guess far  too frequently so I detest that sense of uncertain that arises when accommodating what my mother would call “fair weathered” friends or as my pops would say “sometimers”. Fair weathered friends abide with you while the weather (of your life) is all well but when you’re feeling low and everything is going south where did they flee? How many excuses have they for why they missed your calls or why they couldn’t help you in the ways you’ve helped them.

When relationships end and Borge parties know it’s over closure can’t come from your friend. It has to come from you– from an internal source.


He touched.
He touched me to see if I was real.
He touched me
not knowing his touch, the one he used could kill.
choosing to hurt me cause he loved me so the bruise he left won’t heal.


protection no band aid, oinment but no relief no body bags, no deceased no dead ass?

In disbelief just kidding
Dream team dream chaser no catcher but pitch hittin’
I leaned into to the pitch, picture perfect but not worth it
Blessing when you left, disconnected internet             can’t search it
You’d do anythin for ’em, no servant apprentices merchant
Learning to trade, not to settle for a medal of bronze
The goal is to wait on the gold who deserves it
I ain’t without cons but they’ll think i’m perfect

He touched my chin, running his hand down my cheek. wishing to sneak a peek
at what my modest clothes hid- my body a new thing. he soothed me and untied me to loose me like a shoe string I couldn’t wait to get my hand on his ideas and his mental space and as he looked me in my face I knew the dream he sold was laced
I knew the things he feigned were mean and green with in envy
but i didn’t have it in me to walk away

so he couldn’t wait to get his hands on my thighs and to my surprise even as i tried
No lie i was tongue tied or rather my lips were sealed securely with gorilla glue
i definitely could’ve stop him but the soulful sinner wanted it too.
I wanted love cause i heard what it can do
And i was warned how a view
from the six ty- nine can misconstrue the truth
And confuse you boo
I’m telling the truth

and just like a sample of sin itself he tasted good  at first it was on a soapbox

where my bubbles would be burst
Where i fell and we perpetually began to rehearse for hell
the dress rehearsal in the evening

and during intermission

i contemplated leaving

without his permission

no longer content with consenting to these positions
cause he was selfish and needy with desire, his persuasion like fire

Aromatic aromantic Burnt offering, sacrifical lamb like spring
Isaac was shook but God gave my man’s a ram in a bush

I push but nothing to offer
no conversation, no intimacy just exploitation nothing softer
romance simulated with no stimulation
as if God’s act of creation was without love
and care
holding empty stares with the ceiling, i became accustomed to the feeling
of being unworthy
Rusted and dirty
Not trusting but flirty
and adjusted to the portrayal of love hurting

He had no fear of God but
Boooooaaaaa did My greatness scared him
for nothing could prepare him for my come up
which consisted of protecting myself and him becoming runner up
and 2nd place is a hard position
to occupy when you think you a king with your 700 concubines
None Solomon’s wisdom, indecision even when given time
How he put us on game but we fall for the same lines

Rap candy coated jacketed bars

let me take a crack at it cards
Insert chip now but later edit the charge
My phone been on 1%

Beware when “i love you” gets spoken too soon and “what you doing” text get sent too late
If he just want to chill but won’t take you on a date
Sis, you ain’t even braggin’ when you tell him you worth the wait
Aand it’s never too late CPTime to cut him off
ain’t too fast too quick, you ain’t love sick no cough
Diagnosis, peep what his approach is
Loving yourself wholeheartedly with no apology ain’t your focus?
My greatest good was being misunderstood
lying on my spine head to pillow, crying environmentally friendly tears weeping willows
And even in all the mistakes I seek to provide more than just undried eyes
I got one question: Why be his bitch when you are a bride? A prize, a not so innocent, innocuous one, a conundrum dressed in white, pure intention having wife,
You prayer prayers head to pillow, but you hope God will somehow hear tho, even when you feel low lifting a man up soley based off his potential,

And not to put him on blast but he still approach me, talking bout the letters he wrote me
All the attention he owe me
Just know when it’s over,
The honorable mentions come in slowly
“He said you ain’t like you dunno me
How dare you outgrow me
How dare you hit a glo”
I got no response for a fatally feeble fetus embroyo
Ass nigga

We could’ve weathered the storm, you could’ve found a fireplace in me for warmth electric stove treasure trove
black pearl black diamonds black pride boat rockin’ but it’s teather’s tide

She pray that he stay deep down she tired
I sound dumb I know
I thought I found sum you know
Ain’t it funny how the story goes that
Women get called hoes but men get called pros
She a thottie if she hang out with too many of the bros?

Like not to be petty but so many folks ain’t ready to have a queen who rocking steady
Rocky road ain’t stop the show, even though boulders fold when pressure gets heavy

Garden of Apology Flowers

August 17, 2016


Dear Black Queen,

You are my first love, my first look. I hope this letter grants you permission to smile. I hope this letter breathes breath into you. I hope you are reading this wondering in what state of mind the author must have been entrenched to be so honest. You are beautiful even when you feel ugly even if others make you to feel ugly. You are a gem. You are warmth. You are light.


You are a class ended early. You are a direct deposit. You are a labor day weekend. You are everything someone wants but does not yet know they need.



August 27, 2016

I can only be me.

I don’t see you.

How could I with such a distorted view

We talk about shooting on the news – violent

Black mothers singing the blues

But we silent when black daughter are being abused

Holding onto you with a chain of names no one should have ever called you

And only letting you loose outcha cage every couple of days

I couldn’t navigate his mental maze no mental math

Could take me back to a time when 1+1 equaled 100 insecurities

A time where I could make lines rhyme detailing dates on a calendar when I thought you wouldv’e buried me like roots of lavender

I didn’t ask for love that was colored purple

But a seed like me is a scarcity a rarity and

can’t stay that low too long

It’s only a matter of time before a breeze brushes strong and I must move

Like when the wind would’ve blew

off the scents of flowers left on my doorstep

The note read

“baby, you can’t go yet”

They tell you roses are red but so is the bloody battles

That violets are blue but so are bruises leaving you physically broken and mentally rattled

Baby you can’t go yet?

Why can’t you leave

why you s’posed to stay

Why you s’posed to never let a past mistake get in the way

Why? All because a nigga got potential that they won’t actualize until some day?


Her face bled every 2 days every black and blue phase came and went like Tuesdays

And while the scars faded like the sound of praise on Sundays the sun refused to shine during such dark time, ticks and clicks of clocks but same shit, same cycle

Wouldn’t be long before another slap to the face or pull of the hair,

Trauma become rationalized, until the new normal no longer feels foreign

Wouldn’t be long before another I’m sorry is proceeded by flowers, a gift which forfeits the man’s real power       to change

By the end of this relationship, the garden had been pick, rose bushes bare

Soon he would only offer me leaves and by then, leaving was the best things I could ever accept



Her smile hid every scar

Don’t ever get tired of raising the bar


You are not defenseless,

Don’t forfeit the woman with-in

The God-sent to Adam

One cannot fathom a man who cannot manage loving with his actions

Who cannot imagine loving me with his eyes closed

A man who cannot love you with his fist open, palms up

In surrend to a God above him

A man so broken who cannot love you without hurting you

His fragile masculinity fragmented mentality fraudulent humanity

A fake

But somehow here we are always trying to make

“it” work to put up with as much as we can take

but it’s a lie that what don’t kill you can only make you stronger

what doesn’t kill you this time can kill you next time





Teach yourself to leave

Learn what you need

Know that love should never make you bleed

When relationships die, gone head an’ grieve

(c) a poem by Des4Pres the blaccwoman