Writings
a poem i wrote about the moonlight
Moonlight
I found you
in the back of the room.
You stood
still.
Like a stranger
with eyes fixed
on the spotlight.
You stared
at the many shades
of white,
golden in its
luminescent.
And I…
I stood
still.
Like a friend
with eyes fixed
on the moonlight.
Sidebar: I honestly didn't write this poem with an intention on aligning it with the film Moonlight. In fact, I was just writing because it flowed and that came out. Funny how much something can be engrained in you that it follows you wherever you may go creatively and literally.
the words that come out when you have nothing to say
I stare at blank screens, blank pages and blank thoughts, waiting for a letter, a word, a sentence, an emotion to jolt me back to life. I walk away from the stale canvas and begin to pace in my private space - back and forth I go - collecting as many random thoughts as possible in hopes that one will be the starting point of pure magic. It's rare to have one of those magic moments as a writer or perhaps, that's just the case with me. However, I find it hard to believe that someone can have the stars align perfectly that many times unless it's someone at their highest creative state.
I'm not at my highest creative state.
Therefore, I live in blank scenes, blank pauses and blank times, waiting for the perfect moment to finally fill in the emptiness with feelings and frequencies. Until then, I'm silent, even when words appear to be right on schedule - I'm silent. Old words do not count as utterances of the present so my presence is a pleasant lie. Most will not notice my faux pas. In fact, I am willing to bet that no one sees this but me.
No one sees this but me.
Blank moods inspire blank hues so no wonder I've been bankrupt with words. I have no deposit since I've been completely depleted for a while now. I got to gather some experiences, some literature, some stories, and some energy to infuse my genuine love for the written word. Until then, I'll whisper a little...
I can always whisper.
a poem i wrote about unconditional love
Unconditioned Note
Ultimately I want you to be at peace
Peace is not perfect
So I would never expect you to be
Any imagined ideal in a childhood fantasy
Ultimately, I want you to be free
Free is not confined to fear
So I would never expect you to follow
Any insecure boundaries of tomorrow
Ultimately, I want you to be loved
Love is unconditional
So I would never expect you to embrace
Conditions based on what society creates
Ultimately, I want you to be
being is magnificent
so I would never expect you to be
anything else
for my brothers and sisters: a meditation on activism
Nothing can offend me if it doesn’t reflect me.
Nothing can offend you if it doesn’t reflect you.
Reactive energy is only a sign that something inside of me/you believes that what the other is saying is true.
Nothing can offend me if it doesn’t reflect me.
Nothing can offend you if it doesn’t reflect you.
Proactive energy is a sign that something inside of me/you believes that what the Higher is saying is true.
Nothing can offend me if it doesn’t reflect me.
Nothing can offend you if it doesn’t reflect you.
don't let the media kill your positive vibe
Media operates on fear.
Not us.
Media breaks people apart.
Not us.
Media tries to stop folks from elevating.
Not us.
Look around you, my friend. That's real life.
The screens may fool you.
Don't let the mess consume you.
Don't allow the programs to control your mind.
Let it motivate you to become greater than ever before.
Let it move you towards love even more.
Let it inspire you to create something magical.
Let it push you into empowerment.
Let it guide you towards solutions.
Let it energize you towards education.
Let it center you in mindfulness.
Let it bring you to stillness.
Let it encourage you to be in community.
You want to stop the fear right?
You want to win the spiritual warfare right?
Then get inside your Universe and align your own stars.
Be the light at the end of our dark tunnel.
Be the love in the middle of brokenness.
Love is the silent revolution we've been waiting for.
Be one of the soldiers of love.
And just love.
a tale | poem inspired by tonya m. foster
A tale
A mother stands on a sidewalk talking
about how she landed
in the unfamiliar row houses of Philadelphia.
A summer story. 1990.
She was riding along a lonely
inappropriate road that only holds
certain shades to certain standards.
She made a wrong left turn and was in the right space.
That sticky sweaty sweetness of coco skin
makes a random bee excited
with bright eyes that she never saw before or
perhaps noticed before. So enthralled with this
typical object of pain, she follows its path to
corner stores, chalk coded games, water hoses as water coolers, music blaring messages of
pride in new sound systems, and five cullud boys drumming
that ball of loose baskets, dripping with excitement and tiredness.
Random passersby call her
by a nickname that she only heard on television. “Sista!” she exclaims
in her tale. Perhaps, they were drawn to her
wayward worries which were illustrated by her
engulfed eyes looking away from their faces, from their boom boxes, from their fist t-shirts
and dark shades many men wore to protect
from the sun, the stares of those who wanted their innate control, dried up tears of last night constant realization.
“They came to me,” she says
like the girl who finally got to go home
after going astray for days, “but
I had to say goodbye because my parents
promised Grandma’s pecan pie.”
an ode to the most misunderstood woman in the world
Karma.
She is vilify by many.
She is called out her name by plenty.
However,
she exemplifies the universal truth
"Do onto others as you would have them do unto you."
Karma.
She is brave with bold audacity.
She can also be quiet with hidden reciprocity.
Honestly,
she upholds the standard
of integrity and responsibility.
Karma.
She is used to labels and laughs
because she knows why so many hate her.
Karma.
She is truly one fair woman.
keep life light
we pack experiences and impressions
overload on bags of memories
we try to drag them along in moments
overload on bags of miseries
we forget to unpack when new times come
we try to bring up old news that is buried
digging sometimes for hours just to find
the feeling of the now that aligns
to make a case or make a plea or make a repeat of past
because we keep carrying old luggage hoping to make it last
however, wheels are falling off and the straps are breaking
perhaps now is the time to start thinking
drop the bags and leave them where they are
and walk easier throughout our journey near and far
step with a brand new stride
creating new rules to pack light
when things get too heavy,
begin to clean out all the stuff
that does not fit in our space now
so we can keep life light
one moment at a time
Written April 2014