just be.

"I am one intense adjective at a time, I don't resist those feelings. I rest in ...those moments." -Jill Scott

Tuesday, June 29, 2010


yea, i talk with a twang. i say yall, folks, auntie, brotha, and ain't. just tryin to show you my undeiable roots. don't be the fool to mistake my genius.

i can take the average greeting and sum it up to, how u? and no one would dare question the meaning.

our time loving pace has somehow been mistakened for slow. somewhere wires got crossed cause we have random overflows of these city folks.

but i dare a one to deny the peace of mind and ease of simple pleasure you feek once you enter these southern quarters.

neither will their hips deny the smile they have when their mouth is full of collards, chopped bbq, potato salad, and sweet pies.

we'll even give them somethin to groove to. liqour house music blarring on the porch as its patrons pull on memories of your favorite drunk uncle that paste a grin on your face.

simply put there is nothing better than the tobacco and cotton patches my folks use to work, there is nothing better than grandpas old store, nothing better than walks up grannies path filled with smell of life. simply put there is nothing better than our over developed lips and hips, home churned ice cream and perseves.

combined i call this a southern delight, overwhelming your senses to an ultimate rise.

same soul.

i promise that i will give him the beauty of love, of creation. i will give him the mirror image of his manhood. i will show him where him source is. so he can come to me when he is not strong, when he is bare to see every reason in my eyes, in my womb, in the dips of my body why he is man.


sing to me
a song that makes me quiver
that makes me think just why there ain't a negro who could resist the groove
resist the rhythm
even when it means they dancing to their own death
ain't gone go quietly
ain't gone die with this song in me
ima leave it here for all my folks
follks that don't have a soul to cry out for them
folks that still haven't caught their own rhythm
folks that can't hear their own song
and my folks that have yet to come
come all come now
imma light this wicked path of survival for you
trust me
hold close to me
follow my light
imma sing you to me


tell me
preach to me
love me
touch me
kiss me
think of me
build me
recognize me
hug me
come close to me
treat me
smell me
be me
dance with me
be strong for me
miss me
create with me

a letter to my match


to those whos nostrils have yet to flare. be armed or be harmed. you must prepare your shield. this country is shielded by the law to where us low down folks can't understand their cowardly language. claiming to know ethics but they wrote the dictionary too. define yourself. claim yourself.help yourself. this is when our chains will fall off. can't wait for hypocrisy to give you real freedom though our feet are dirty of the land of prosperity and freedom.


i wrote you a song you refused to hear. a song that only if you parted your ears for me would make you quiver. quiver with a lust for my presence, for knowing; something even the gods couldn't dream up. a flame that won't abondon me until its answered with only the will to know the rhythm of the tale i have for you. and even if its only true when you listen i'd still bow for you. will you listen? i promise you'll never find a sweeter song.