To My Lover, A Poem

o calmly wild;

there’s pure ecstasy in the way You see (through) me

the way You rip me apart in the name of edification

how do You find purity in my despair?

Poem of The Day: Roses & Revolutions

and I heard the lamentations of a million hearts
regretting life and crying for the grave,
and I saw the Negro lying in the swamp with his face
blown off,
and the northern cities with his manhood maligned and felt
the writhing

This Is A Moment for Weeping

“The life that remains. The life that continues to defy certain removal and dismemberment of self from self from his/herstory from family from truth from gods from us–of old, new, now and tomorrow–we celebrate, that even still our death has not been won, paid for, laid claim to. We celebrate that at least, for us, the power to die remains the province of the flesh hold the beating heart in its crevice…”

The Revolution Will Not Be Hash-tagged.

“The revolution will cost all that we have. It will cost our lives, with the ever-elusive promise, that we might transcend the products, producers and midwives of violence we have become…”

black. gold. and god. (for Ruby)

By Vernon Jordan, III i. raising me I hope was easy. Like the Sun of a spring day, the ease of a Fall breeze; grandma, I remember you teaching me to wash my childish, brown hands, my boney coal elbows, and knees.   You carried your skin like a rope of jewels ‘round neck —…

Hip Psalms

Dark and fat with star and misery she could not swallow me  into anonymity, hips swinging blacker than her Cosmos, smile brighter than Moons mighty, known and named Ancestors wrought my spine  Soul onyx with the remnants of shooting stars aiming for purpose found in my stride  Of black gumbo soiled through ivory incantations cross…

SkoolHaze is on that BEDA – Day 1 of 31

Originally posted on Skool Haze:
SkoolHaze is on that BEDA – Day 1 of 31 ============= What does that mean? BEDA means, Blog Every Day in August. I stole this whole concept from Evelyn of the Internets. She’s one of my long lost Internet cousins. You probably are too. Back in April she decided to…

10 Shots To Freedom: Alva Braziel & Amerikkkan Treatment

Image via (titled “America’s Gun Culture, We Are America”) 10 shots ran through the body of Alva Braziel because gun rights don’t apply to black and blackened bodies in these United States unless Of course, we are speaking About and traveling the tunnels Bullets Cut through black flesh undeterred by myths of law and…

This Is Not A Think Piece: Of Black Homes & Meccas & Cosmos

Some day we will go home, back to where we belong, back to that place we cannot articulate because human tongues have no memory of truth, of blissful vulnerability, of home where hatred is not as a common and expected as the morning dew, or mourning as routine as breathing, or lynching as common as air. Perhaps, home is where the heart is, or where it goes, when the body is no longer welcome and one’s nation is where hate is birthed, domiciled and groomed.

Moment of Birth (A Poem)

“I was a bloody, plastic, mess

they whispered tragedy over me,

but I was the closest thing

to God they’d ever seen –

my halo was fresh


woke up from death.”