Momma was born a hip hop head
She'd whisper beats and rhymes in my ear right before bed
We played dress up every day
she'd do my hair up real nice
when daddy had the good dough
mamma partied dripping in ice.
and even when the jackets were too heavy
and my braided head too tight
as long as I made mamma look good,
I was doin' alright.
How can I blame her
I only know pieces to her story
there were whole other lives
a long time before me
and to this, I owe her credit
not every day was a dog day
even when I didn't know what to say
I mean she gave me my words when I was four
it made life a little easier when raising the children she bore
And for as long as I could remember
or at least since the 24th of September
She spited dad
promised me she'd always give me all that she had
Wasn't long until she broke it
2 years since we've spoken
but we manage
Momma checked out
left me and my siblings behind
left me alone to make sense of the world with half of her mind
And so here I am now
ripped from my bed
An old beat drew me to write about the love that's dead
12:39 am
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC
I have gotten older.
At this point in time, I am where my mother was. I am caught between wanting to love someone and wanting to disappear from the face of the earth, between buying groceries or a few grams of creative fuel. Music is a necessity and sleep is no more than a luxury. There are nights where I wake up just to stare into the clocks eyes and although I tell myself to slip back into my dreams I cannot stop my right arm from reaching for a pen. By the end of the week, my recycling bin overflows with half-written letters and they all start the same but different
Dear mom, I hate you and
Dear mom, I miss you. I am just
Dear mom, I hope your next boyfriend has 16 ****** kids so that you are forced to remember the four biggest blessing you left behind
but there is one letter that I keep on my desk, inside an envelope with your address on it, sealed so that even if my fingers itch to revise and edit all the confusion I somehow found the strength to heave out onto paper; I won't.
it reads,
Dear mom,
I want to tell you I love you. I don't. I know I don't. But I do. I always will, that's just how life is. Life always will be. It's different for everyone. However, for us, life will always be arduous. At the end of the day, you and I don't make it any easier. I fight to feed, bathe, and protect the three younger miracles you brought into this world when you, you don't even bother to send a card on their birthdays. Your life always meant more to you. The motivation I have, the childhood I didn't keep me up at night. You've both robbed and driven me. I don't know whether to say **** you or thank you.
- your Firstborn
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
To all the people I could never love
I wanna say it wasn't me nor you
the trial and error sent from above
forgive my words regrettably untrue
To all the hearts I never accepted
I cannot forget the minds I have changed
To all the souls I never defended
Forgive me people who´ve become estranged
For each of the tears I have caused to shed
I have come to replenish our due peace
I know I´ve left you stranded in your head
let the raging hurt in your heart decease
Remember it was you who taught me so
There´s a forgiving grace in letting go
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
I want to love you like the 90´s,
back when making a playlist
meant dubbing you a mixtape
I want love you like cassette,
the kind of love that even when it gets tangled
we just have to stick a pencil into the spool
and reel it back to normal
I want to love you like portable Sony CD players,
the kind of love that even when it gets scratched
we just have to blow wipe it on our sleeves
because, love,
love just needs a little touch to make it move
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
Growing up, my grandmother always tried to hold me back from the girl I thought was my best friend.
Her name was Society.
My grandmother made it very clear that I was not to associate with Society and so that is what I did
for a while.
By the age of 7 I had an impressively large entourage of friends, whose parents also steered clear from Society.
We watched movies, made hot chocolate and talked about our hopes and dreams.
However just because the light burns bright, doesn't mean it's going to burn forever.
By the time I was 11 our coterie had fallen through.
The more we grew, the less we would hear our parents.
11 years young, and completely detached.
All my friends were now strangers.
Society was the only one I had left.
I always desired to be equals with her.
I tried so hard until there wasn't any ME anymore.
I was caught in between fitting in with the world and becoming estranged from myself
Society dug up every last seed that all sane adults plant into their children.
Mum raised me to believe that every inch, every atom and every molecule inside of me was worthy of love.
Society had taught me to pinch and pull at my body, accusing every bump, every scar and every imperfection for being some of the many reasons I was alone.
Society led me to rip every mirror off of the walls of my life.
"You don't wanna see that" She would whisper.
She was wrong until she was right.
For every 1 thing I found to love in the reflection,
Society would find 3 things to hate.
Society had taken the sparkle from my eyes because the other girls couldn't see past the glare.
Society silenced the protest in my gut because there weren't enough people on my side
but as I moved on to better people
I realized she was all a sham
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
Momma was born a hip hop head
She'd whisper beats and rhymes to me right before bed
She gave me my words when i was four
from then on i thought i needed nothing more
And for as long as i could remember
or at least since the 24th of September
She spited dad
promised me she'd always give me all that she had
Wasn't long until she broke it
2 years since we've spoken
but we manage
Momma checked out
left me and my siblings behind
left me alone to make sense of the world with half of her mind
And so here i am now
ripped from my bed
An old beat drew me to write about the love that's dead
12:39 am
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC
When a poet can no longer
find their words;
Please give them a hug...
Understand that the loss of words,
is a loss of true love.
When a poet Can no longer find their
ink;
Don't leave them alone in their mind
What to do with a paralyzed pen
Living in a world unkind
There is no drain to an ocean
to deplete this sea of thought
please hold this dysfunctional poet
Whose feelings have been
Bartered and bought
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
I was told that if I was the kind of woman, men liked to look at,
I could let them look at me.
And I was told that if I was the kind of woman, men liked to touch,
I could let them touch me .
I was promised that if I can clean up after messes that were not my own, learn to cook, and mother a man's inner child,
I could become the woman men liked to provide for.
Men appreciate the women that know when to speak
,guess that's why I don't even know what I'm saying half the time
Men need a woman who can guarantee silence while he grumbles about his day
I didn't know I was to marry a broken record
The look I get from my grandmother when I tell her that marriage is not exactly in my life's itinerary, Is the exact same look 14 year old Alyssa got when she came home with a pierced septum
Us girls are brought up to believe that a happy life is made up of 3 components ...
Husband
Kids
and a part time job
There is a reason Slave is not a synonym for wife
And woman does not equal wife
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
If you only had been physical
But you're cynical
And you won't let as much as a
Touch
Be a touch
If you only had been lyrical
But you're logical
And it's making you sore
When I talk metaphors
If you only had been curious
Not so serious
And your grammar is right
But your structure is strong
And nothing belongs
'cause trouble don't rhyme
Well they do sometimes
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
Ruby rises at dawn
With a sigh and a yawn
And a dream lingers on
In her dream she’s a swan
With a cloud over head
Ruby swims out of bed
She removes from her hair
Monsters made out of air
And she screams with no sound
As her feet touch the ground
She’ll be a morning shadow
With the sun that rises
She dematerializes
Ruby rise at dawn
With a sigh and a yawn
And you search for a trace
But there’s none in her face
Of the thoughts that she keeps
They are lost in her sleep
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC