There is nothing better than growing up in two thousand and something
where America, the beacon, the safe haven,
is the place to be and technology promises prosperity
Segregation is over and women can vote!
Gay is okay and Al-Qaeda is gone!
There is nothing better than growing up in two thousand and something,
All the answers ever needed at the palm of your hand,
Thanks to God’s greatest creation: the smartphone
We’ve got sore necks and thumbs with validations from notifications
But the light of a screen shines brighter than the sun
There is nothing better than growing up in two thousand and something
Where bored complaining teenagers are college criteria by day and adrenaline junkies by night
And a healthy breakfast consists of coffee, adderall, and zoloft
We give our babies an ipad before we give them a rattle
Life moves faster and faster, with no time for silly simplicity
There is nothing better than growing up in two thousand and something
Where thoughts and prayers replace votes and bills,
with opinions split by the change of a channel
school shootings have become a generation
racism is presidential, and misogyny is congressional
with no gray area between red and blue
abortions are the killers but rifles save lives!
Alphabet people stay out of the army,
Mexican rapists stay behind the wall
women’s mouths stay clamped shut
Our civil liberties are eroding
& what do we do? we shrug
****
There is nothing better than growing up in two thousand and something.

each time you tell me I have anger issues
I am six years old again
in my car seat as you drive to "get ice cream"
so you can swear about Mom
& yell at me for playing with my window.
I was naive enough to think that my middle-aged father
was asking for marriage advice.
Now I flip other drivers off
in the same car you would lock me in
I slam the keys of the piano
I hid under when Mom threatened to leave
I hate Mom as much as you do now
if not more
because she says I'm just like you
so tell me I have anger issues, Dad
I ******* dare you

O Curls

my 3a-3b locks

im sorry for the **** i put you through

all the bleaching, heating, and treatments

trying to make you something you're not

for the times i tried to make you the standard

thinking my uniqueness wasn't attractive enough

i hurt you but you had been damaged

long before the straightener

when that boy in the desk behind you would pull your hair

you pretended you didn't notice

when those white folks touched it without your permission

pointing & prodding like you were an alien

when people lost pencils and coins and spitballs in your tangles for amusement

only for you to find at your feet in the shower

When you were told to be straightened

to look “safer” and “more professional”

when he screamed  “shut the **** up medusa *** *****”

naming you as a monster to silence the both of us

the first time i singed you i was met with

“you should do this more often! it looks so much better this way!”

and in an instant the straightener became my drug

a one time thing became the fix i needed for instant confidence

finally i looked like i belonged

like the girls at my school, on TV and in magazines

I let myself believe that to love me, I had to erase you

you are, in fact, what makes me

people notice you before they notice me

But that is because we work together, you and i

to make this “mufasa roar”

I’ll nurse you through the damage the world caused

The damage I caused,

Because my hair will not be quiet for anyone that asks

Im sorry that it took this long

But thank you for teaching me how to be

unapologetic, unique, authentic

Thank you for teaching me

How to be me

In the hills I know the sounds
of every bird, every deer, every squirrel
I know every twist and turn,
I could drive with my eyes closed.
I know which way the wind whistles
and how the sun feels on my back
I know the smell of pine sap and flowers
you can’t find anywhere else
As the summer air approaches
in my garden, my hands in the soil
I ask myself the question I’ve feared
as I’m about to go
Yes, life is ahead of me,
There’s no turning back now
But how could I ever leave the home
I’ve grown to live, to love, to know.

I was never fond of the Tango,
the dance that was never through.
But even so, I tangoed,
I tangoed with you.

Passion fuels our every step
red hot anger, crimson lust.
Everything in between
is scattered in our dust.

I wish you'd give me a signal
for I am sick of all the lies.
What are you trying to tell me
with your tired, angry eyes?

I can't see clearly when I look at you,
my vision's blurred from all the tears,
But as we dance this tango,
I forget the pain from all the years.

I was never fond of the Tango,
the dance that was never through.
But it takes two to tango
so I’ll tango with you.