Must I tell you about her locs,
That dance with the rhythm of her hips,
Watching their twist, and turn – a testament
To the tangled thoughts in every strand, a reflection
Of the tender care she donates upon her hair.

And would I love to keep a lock, and key
To her locs, being a LONG story in itself—
Free, vibrant, and unapologetically bold
The sunlight catches the rich hues of her hair;
Tales of her heritage, struggles, and her triumphs.

I swear, I promise; I must say...
Her locs are the echoes of the laughter
And tears that have shaped her journey.

I didn’t know how beautiful I was until my face was in my face.
I said goodbye to pricey hairstyles that went down to my ****
and only lasted a little over two months.
Such long hair framing my face made me overlook it.
The weave only ever added to my internal beauty.

My starter locs were an adjustment after minute one.
They framed my face as if I were a sunflower.
The ends of my locs were curlier than Shirly Temple’s.
So full of life and unique in their own way.
But I felt they didn’t match how long my natural hair was.
Those around me loved my hair, but I covered it up with wigs.
They were nice, but my locs needed breathing too.

Snapping pictures of my progress became my new hobby.
My frizz came in within a matter of weeks.
My budding started in the back and then spread out
like a wild forest fire.
I stopped wearing wigs after month 2.
I embraced my new look like they were firmly planted roses.
I watered them and gave them direct photosynthesis each day.

I kept my scalp oiled every 3 days to continue their cycle of life.
The growth spread like a wild forest fire.
It torched each of my locs until they all tangled up and looked alike.
I became my own photographer, snapping more pictures than ever before.
I became obsessed once I saw all of my progress.
How could I go back to weave now?
My locs are just gorgeous!

My hair changed before my eyes
and I can’t get enough.
My locs showed me a face that I thought needed
to be complimented by hair I had to pay for.
There’s nothing better than just fluffing out my hair in the
morning and going about my business.
Embracing my locs proved to me that
I was always beautiful just the way I was.

This hair journey is the best road I ever walked.
I won’t regret it ever!
Inner beauty is beautiful, but outer beauty is eye-catching.
I love my babies like I birthed them out of my scalp
And I can’t ever let them go!
Ever!!!


Mia J
11/2/2023

© 2023 Mia J



.

tell me, what's the key to your thoughts
do you have them locked in your locs –

chasing after a touch of those tangled thoughts
running fingers through your hair, but your
dreads are too thick - still that's alright

                      at least I have you tonight.

She taught me that if the first one isn't just right try again
She also taught me that each try that you risk could be fatal or peaceful
She taught me you can't walk into the beast's home without being aware of it

I want to be super me

Shave off my eyebrows
as an act of demolition
leave no roots to grow
let sweat beads know
this is a law of prohibition
against the curse
I want to be the last one on earth
and yet the first
to birth a warrior generation
all colors
all sizes
all shapes
and variations
of a people whose DNA serves as an abbreviation
of perfect

Simply

I want to love without working

I want to kiss the thickly oiled
pus inhabitating pimpled t-zones of anglo saxon adolescent girls
and tell them they’re beautiful
just after they’ve reached out and grabbed one of my locs
only to ask me if my natural hair is artificial

I want to eat lunch with the friendless 14 year old boy
caged in elementary special ed class
Immediately following him walking me
arms pinned
in front of the boys during recess
asking them how should he **** my ***

I want to tell him of a Savior
That can mold him greater than his absentee father
or molesting godmother that has affected his behavior

I want to wrap my arms of comfort around the shoulders of every insecure woman
that was confident enough to tell me
men would only see me as ***
but never as beautiful
I want to reach my go-go-super me hand in
and choke the life out of the wormy wretched murderous spirit
that eats their lives
I want to starve its lies
leaving it to die by granting the grace of a new name
befriend them with but a call and response game-

Me: “those who look to HIM are radiant!”
Them: “their faces are never covered with shame!”


I want to sound the finger snap
hand clap heard round the world
while giving a standing ovation
to all of the open mic night writers that hid their jagged daggers in a cloak of being truthful
saying my words and antics scored high for the stage
But for the page
this thing I should think twice about calling poetry
would never ever be suitable

I want to carry the little white boy on my hip while singing
The rendition of “You Are My Sunshine” that I sing to my kids
just after he hurls “******” in my direction
in a vile attempt to reduce me from perfection
I’ll teach him that the coned sheet his father keeps neat
and breaks out for story time at night is but a cry for help
that the most important thing he could ever do with his life
is to recognize others as his brothers and sisters
and to love them even as he would love himself
I’ll tell him communication isn’t erasable
and before he speaks he should remember to care
I’ll give him a lollipop
then fly through the galaxy to land on a planet
where I’ll purchase every CD created featuring John Mayer

I’ll speak and smile at every cop
That’s harassed brown people

I’ll drop an offering in the basket of preachers
that think I can’t deliver the Word
because as a woman in ministry
I’m not equal

If mine eyes can see my shell’s end
I’ll make love to my husband
in a way his second wife would never be able to transcend
even if earlier it was his day off
but instead of living it with me
he chose to leave me alone with our kids

If loving without working is tough as a glass jar of vlasic dill pickles
I want to pop the lid

As soon as offenses are committed
my earnest desire is to be super me

I want simply

to easily


FORGIVE.

welcome to houston texas
we roll swangas n swishers
we might hit cha
with the torch
if ya dont know where ya stand
in the ghetto we never let go
of painful memories
we got brothers get shot by cops
to brothers getting got
by they own i try not to led a path of sin on my own
phone home
soon to be at the crossroads
knockin at thugs mansion door
got **** how did i get smoked
i thought i was backed by my locs
now im sittin with malcolm
and martin n garvey
enjoying a smoke
wish i could reach deep into the pains
of black folks brain
and let em know
we used to be kings n queens
but **** dont flipped
once they change the color of the script
but ***** i peep game since i was embryo
last of a dying breed corrupt seed
we can changr indeed
we just gotta change waht our minds feed
but we too intrigue
from the worlds scent
a ghetto ih


now that've got your intention
lets form a syndication
reform strategize black nation
we all brothers from haitan to jamacian makin
nothing but flawless beats
smokin swisher sweets at the swap meet
or better yet the bayou classic
listenin to magic
1 0 2 point one everybody having fun
without the use of a gun
buts ther3s always one
that wanna start ****
got his wig split
now take a picture for yo casket
wish times wasnt so hard
but im always on the guard
sneaky *** white supremacy
pushin gay antics
miss with that semantic
yall aint slick
so let me hit ya with some of the realist
rhymes that make up for the crimes cuz im
tired of this ****** poor livin
everyday sinning
no winning stuck at a permenant loss
but somehow my soul still grows
even though the world be a ghetto the ghetto

A permanent commitment of growth
Strength knowledge and wisdom waxed and positively twisted into the main stream.

Unique & rare is what you are to society. Bold and brave is what you stand for.
A lioness leading this jungle like world, marking her presence to protect not harm.

Informally blindsided by you. You remain loyal to your pack as I roam searching to return to mine and be home.

Closet freak..
As the lust in my eye turns into pure fantasies of how I want me on you in the most compromising positions...
Stroke game on repeat as these walls begin to beat on your meat...
Eyes closed because no witness to confess this sticky mess..our souls is on fire and this love making has turn into a straight **** fest...
Faster as my emotions begin to cloud my better judgement...**** it...i want you..
Is an UNDERSTATEMENT..let's see if you can keep up...
Under me...Is how you're gonna be...
stat is how I'm cumm'n
E..every inch touching my deepest spots
Ment...ally seeing you hitting it from da back..this is ***..straight ****** on a new level.
Pull my locs as I **** your **** maybe you'll pop as I look in your eyes because you and I both know what this mouth can and will do for you..**** my pain away...hips rocking ...and they say a big girl couldnt keep up...well they cant compete with an arch like this...make em weak at each peak...now say my name..because you're all mines..on a new level confession of a closet freak!
Nikki.the.goddess

I'm just trying to find my purpose
Isn't that the theory behind what our time here is?

And when I leave here let it be with no fear.
Not on my knees begging please,
But on my feet like a beast!

This is me. Here I am. Hear me ROAR.
Watch me soar. See me fly. Or pass me by.
I don't have time for the negative,
It's draining mental sedative.
I need that progressive ****.
Sapiosexual. Heavy Mentalist.

Learn not to speak when you should listen
Like when your creep'n at the corner
and your mom's in the kitchen.
Drop'n that real knowledge
The kinda stuff they didn't teach in college.

Facts I'll keep with me for life
Because somehow I didn't know what she ment
but I knew she was right.

Yeah yeah, mom was right.
She said **** ain't easy and **** gets tight.
You gottah learn to roll with the punches
Follow your hunches.

Do what make you happy
even if that means excessive fat jeans. (Eat, eat)
Let them call your hair *****.
Because little do they know tangled in these curls
Is a good *** leave in conditioner,
And the heart of a girl

Who's as strong as her locs
Who just doesn't know when to stop.
Who isn't afraid to top rock, knock down her obstacles.

Hulk ******, clear vision

Though I'll be honest,
Sometimes I don't know what to seek
It always seems to be hiding.
But I know, what ever it is I'll be sure to find it.

I now recognize my youth
she hasn't been gone long
more recently
ending of one
begin a new song
I understand what happened to my mom.

my youthful days were free
in a way they no longer are.
yet freer today still.
motherhood and maturity,
marriage and low energy purging,
self imposed isolation for healing
and not really sleeping
have aged me.

not physically as much
though I see the crows feet
creeping in quietly
they don't bother me
passed through family,
lines my brow can sustain.

these babies remind me of my youth
times of a quieter mind
and a deeper desire to travel.
now all I daydream of is roots.
the underground is astounding.

my locs keep growing
rooted at the crown
I feel the beat pumping out
the essence is vibrating
causing me to giggle
youthful in my soul.

my locs grew up with me
we continue to mature
rooted together, they extending outward
an extension of my being.
tentacles that develop meaning
and develop me.

and with each development
the youthful cloak
gets thinner and lighter
translucence promised
as the days pass by.
this life's lessons heavy handed
on the front end.
pure passion for each message to come
only gratitude and love to my youth
She,
the master of my mind.

Sitting on trains plastered in rainbows
Hues of the fairest gray periods
Heart tired
Eyes glued
My grandmother always said not to stare...

I got caught in the naps of his hair
His 6 foot awesomeness
Maybe he's texting about business
His holiday arrangements...
Maybe his locs long for her

Maybe he tells her she's amazing
That he cant wait to see her
He'll kiss away her fears
Install the mirage of his emotions
Hold her, rub her back
3:00 am "you're beautiful"
Dreams of morning oral soliloquys...

Awakened by his agenda
She's remissed she couldn't wake earlier
To spend those last moments glancing out
Into the moments paradigm
To play a lil' house within his eyes ...

Suddenly
A faint streak of saliva on her cheek
muah
He's off...

She walks into the lavatory
Wondering why the hell the bathroom light's on...

LP