Chin up in expectation
Eyes longing to behold
Thirsty of the evidence of things yet to be seen
Maybe tomorrow the sun will shine
Or the rain will fall and wash away these hopes
Maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel
or this light is just sign
and this tunnel is just is an allusion
maybe better tomorrow will come knocking at my door
but till then
I will die with the moon
And will find rest in my wall of hallucination,
get lost in dreamland and become a prisoner of my imagination
maybe reality will come running to my rescue,
and save my soul from my own captive
and when I rise with the sun, tomorrow will be my guests.

Beauty does not seek attention:
But when she steps in, she gets all the ovation
Melanin defined, answering every question
You are about to ask.
With the complexity in their complexion,
I can hear their skin “say glow like diamond”

Brave, beautiful, bold; she earns the major “B”
Of course, she is queen Bee!
Majestically making her way to the throne in your heart, you wonder how she penetrates.
She is beautifully crafted, masterpiece of the master of all pieces,
That MAN up there must have taking his time.

All shades of her from chubby, thick, to tall. slender, olive, light, black, fair, tan brown.
Have you seen her tribal marks?
More like a landmark of territories she has conquered, with each stroke representing her “might”

Written off by history,
Knocked off by discrimination.
Trampled upon with stereotype
But each time she rises stronger than the tides
So typical; of an AFRICAN WOMAN
Heart of a warrior, body of QUEEN
Irony of royalty,
All hail: quit wondering how she prevails
Cause never will her crown slip away……..