Tag: seasoned
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Poem 12.23.21 – Note to self
Note to self. Come back to that. What’s wrong?!?It’s the flawsIt’s all that, raw. It’s the claws attached,Not the open Paw. Note to self. Come back to that. What’s wrong?!?It’s the flawsIt’s all that, raw. It’s the claws attached,Not the openPaw. As I stare in your face Its clearly lies + Race. It’s on the…
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Meditation 8.29.21 – Good Boy/ Good Taste
Grandma says to this day, “you’re such a good boy,” and I’m inclined to believe her. In fact, it’s been an existential imperative that I explicitly hear these words and see myself. So much of my past used to taste freshly cooked in my mind; more of a gumbo than any fine dining, my memories…
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Poem 8.12.21: Fruits of NewOrleans
Has life bleached you and left you barren? Not life you protest?!?Who then, Huck Fin?I been where you’ve been poked, plucked and scraped of all that they called a stain, all that which held you sain. Saliva and tears whether your skin,and sooth your bones,pecks and scores leave hopeas your flesh is plowed for a…
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Meditation: We’re All Boatless in the Same Ocean
A Meditation on the Impact of Racial Isolation & Courageous Conversations Racism Racism or more specifically crying racism has never serve me. Like many reading this I’ve always felt this child like fear of loneliness and isolation anytime I’ve imagined speaking out about what I’ve experienced or witnessed. I’ve also lived those petrifying outcomes each…
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Meditation: Where The Hood At?!?!
Why I feel most safe in “the hood”, and you could too! Recently I had the pleasure of connecting with old friends from Georgetown. Admitting I’ve a hard time bonding with my classmates post graduation. I had a hard time truly bonding while I was there. A sentiment not unique to me, but easily unpacked,…
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Poem 02.28.21: Haiku Dear Black Women
Woven through fingers In sin, a saint unadorned. Owed, you are, and am. Harlem outside of Marcus Garvey Park
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Poem 01.28.21: If I Wrote about You, it be a Fail.
I remember learning the meaning of falling and silence when I first met you. You taught me how beautiful a Fall could be. I learned under the night’s glow what my heart does when it’s quietly elated. I remember learning the meaning of failing and silence when I last saw you. You taught me how…
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Poem: Fool of Self-Love
What is self-love for a black man? For a Black Man, a Black Man like me. My body knows a healing dance, full of Love, and Of its own cultivation. My belly starved only in self-sacrifice. For a compassionate Instrument— An instrument like me, Requires space to be Filled. My tongue rest. And plays. Either…
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Poem 12.9.20: Seasoned Black
I’ve done it. I’m officially an adult. That’s right folks, I am the dog that caught the car; watch as I lose myself to the unfamiliar feeling of getting exactly what I’ve worked toward. Don’t take my word for it, this certification came from above me. Through disciple and a lot of burns, I’ve mastered…