Someone Died Last night

Posted: February 25, 2015 in Uncategorized

Someone Died Last night

When we think of death we think of Grandpa,
we think of Grandma, or an old fart.
But when a young soul
or a strong force
just disappears
it awakens—

I wish I could tell though I try to—
dispel the curse
of death. To preach life—
though I too will die.
I can’t help but cry.

So I retreat in grief for the voice
I heard yesterday that is gone today.

People are asking me what I think about the Marine veteran that got convicted for killing the other veteran (Chris Kyle). Wrong is wrong he should go to jail.

• I hate when veterans use PTSD as an excuse to be a loser, a killer and & a slacker
• There are terrible civilians, terrible active military & terrible veterans like everybody else (people are people)
• When a veteran is embarrassing it perpetuates the stereotype of all veterans being crazy
• It is a very minute percentage of veterans that have PTSD
• These people join the military already losers
• There are veterans that are really ill & they do not commit murder or crimes
• I know many veterans, PTSD veterans would rather commit suicide that homicide
• I am a successful, healthy & happy veteran
• I know hundreds of veterans that served well, are educated & live normal productive happy successful lives
• As far as Chris Kyle I believe that he had a job to do, but there is a military code that one does glorify their kills & duties that they performed in the military
• When veterans start to glorify killing Bin Laden & how many sniper kills they did during a war, it is no longer about the greater good, you are no longer a hero but a narcissist
• So good, go to jail for murder, be an example for the veterans that use war illnesses to be a criminal, addict & failure
• I am tired of loser veterans giving the good veterans a bad name

So as to not let my friends get on the ignorant train about veterans, only 10% of specifically “war veterans” have PTSD, 5% of which are faking it. Those people were already messed up before they joined the military.
Another 80% of veterans are outstanding federal workers, contractors, doctors, firemen, policemen, lawyers, teachers, head of businesses, entrepreneurs and the list goes on, they are very successful, healthy & happy.

I don’t strip
I am not a hooker
I don’t speak Ebonics
I don’t dress like a slut
I don’t glorify & have a huge butt
& I don’t twerk

I don’t have a bunch of kids/baby daddies (I have none)
I don’t sleep around
I don’t need a man to save me
I don’t point my finger
I don’t do duck face
& I don’t bop my head
I don’t preach God
I have never been on welfare
Never lived in the projects
I have very good manners

I listen to alternative rock
I paint
I write/read poetry
I write fantasy & serial killer scripts
I read books
I ride horses
I fish
I boat
Love water sports
I swim (a lot)
I am educated
I am well-travelled
I practice French
I am well cultured
I garden/cook/clean
I have a sophisticated palate
I do charity work
I hate violence
I hate arguing/confrontation
I am a trained military marksman
I practice Tai Chi
I prefer British Standard English

I like having long red hair
I love my gays
I love dolling myself up
I love sushi
Fruits & vegetables
I like the theatre
I enjoy Art galleries
I know fine things
I live a quiet country life
I lived in three countries
I can manage money
& yes I own property
I don’t play sports
I can’t dance

My friends are very diverse
So get over your ignorant, racist stereotyping bigotry
Everyone one is different, especially me
I am confident & I love myself

I am so sick & tired of people trying to get my attention by talking about Scandal & Beyoncé.
If you are not Black, a minority woman & glorifying them to me it sickens me.
I seriously stopped talking to people because of that.

It is not about feminism, not about fake hair nor makeup, and NO I am not jealous.
Have you seen me in person? I love glorious hair & makeup, they have been around for centuries & it’s not a Black thing.

My argument is merely about perpetuating the stereotype of Black women from slavery days. Historically, Black women were victimized as being sexual hedonist seducing men & their slave masters. It’s about Black women not having brains and gallivanting their bodies.

As for as Beyoncé; I think she is illiterate. She does not contribute her wealth towards young minority women & girls. I don’t see her campaigning for schools & education. I don’t think a woman over thirty with children especially daughters should display her private parts in public. Her music has no substance to me.

Scandal: I am grateful for Black screenwriters & Black leading ladies. The thing is, sleeping with any married man is disgusting, especially in his house, especially a White man as a Black woman. Typical slave scenarios, when will he marry her? Scandal is very cliché because of the juxtaposition of educated Black woman & sleeping around.

I will not even talk about Nicki Minaj & when I do, I am being satirical.

There I said it!

I laugh

Posted: February 12, 2015 in Photo, Poetry




my cheeks reach my ears

soft mountains of happiness

they warm my heart

dimples dug a drench

flows pure joy

gap teeth tunnel

funnels oxygen’s pleasure


I laugh

I laugh


eyes pull to the sides

joyous water slides

satirical humor

easily replaces anger

so grateful for life

sadness quickly departs


So I laugh


Winter Innocence

Posted: February 12, 2015 in Poetry

Amidst the cold wind from the north, I still hear the children’s chatter. Though the silent playground & empty swinger rocks alone in the air, the ghost of their presence dances & echoes soft laughter. Someone always leaves a toy behind and it will wait for them to return again. Faded in color & buried by the snow it stays, an unspoken respect so no one takes it away. That child will return again to reclaim his long-lost friend. He will play with it again as if summer never ends. Somewhere from the south the sun’s heat reaches for them until then their little feet shuffles past my front door at 7 am & 4 pm. I hear their yellow bus bellowing; dutiful queues they pile on one by one or hurry off to hold a parent hand. How fitting for children the color of the sun symbolizing it will rise again, another day must come. Every now & then I hear a little voice cries out from frustration or a giggle of glee from satisfaction. Bundled up in wool & cotton the little sheep’s heading out to pasture or returning home to their mother & father.

I sit by my window & smile at them.
They will let me know when it’s time to play again.

I have seen raw violence & I hated it.
Confrontation is not my thing,
I would rather write you an essay of emotions—
than fight.

Arguing is bad for the heart,
regret & hate incites stress,
I’ll give you love until you can help yourself
In the form of rope climb or hang yourself.

Quicksand, thick mucky mud,
please let go of my hand.
Good luck using words on me,
they just add to my dictionary.

Physical hurt is for felons,
a frustrated baboon with uncivilized brain functions.
Jealousy is the platform for amateurs,
a reckless life is no difference from being a whore.

My care is volunteered, my love is retractable.
My plans are set in stone.
My soul is numb to the bone.
My heart is stacked to the core.

Weakness in heart & soul is a choice,
you will not be first to try & stifle my voice.
For how God made me,
you deem yourself a form of superiority.

Then where are your blessings?
Your wisdom, eternal bliss, happiness?
Your flow of love from everybody?
Your sheer joy for all life & humanity?

Tick tock, it won’t be long to see 50,
your youth departs, you have no legacy.
Yet nothings changes you still,
incomprehensible why you do the same things.

It’s fine to make mistakes in your youth,
but your declining age will soon predict the truth.
Your pride, your ego, your hate defines you,
I can smell you, run away, I see right through you.
Say & do to me what you must,
My soul is etched in cement & much—
things you could never imagined,
how I came to have this thick repelling skin.

Time is not our friend
you wasted it, which is the ultimate sin.
Though it hurts me immensely to walk way,
I refuse the stench & quick decay.

Sometimes silence means things are better,
most times it is hiding shame & inner suffer.
I am a wise woman I know better,
I have a soul of bricks & leather.