One night
I died, alone in my kitchen
It was the third time my life flashed before my eyes
Someone was there in the dark when the world fell away
In a surly way he said he was sending me back
I didn’t mention it when I woke up
Not the big face in the sky
Or the time that passed by while I laid unconscious on the floor in front of my refrigerator
I got up, cooked for my son and had the same day I had before I died but didn’t pass
He didn’t notice
I was glad
…but I innerstood then
About being alone but not being lonely


Movie Stars

2 days ago it occurred to me
When I was still a baby
I watched the kids on tv
I wasn’t envious but anxious for myself
I wanted to be on tv too
I knew this was meant to be

…but when I was a kid I didn’t see
That so many of these children did things that they may not have agreed to do to be on tv

That I didn’t see the sharks teeth
Or the bed sheets
Or bare my 10 year old feet to the monster with a foot fetish who fantasizes about fucking them
…and made that proposition
What would I do?

I thought about what it would be like to know a 45 year old man showed his friends my 14 year old lips wrapped around his dick recorded on his cell phone
…and considered this party conversation
I didn’t have a clue
What would I do if I was in that position?

Would I be 17 intimidated on my knees in a strange bathroom giving a blowjob hoping I got a record deal?
How would I feel about myself?
Does money heal all wounds?
What’s this world all about?
Would I have it all figured out at 17 -enough to make these decisions?

This poem is about suicide
It’s as much about the dead as it is the lights
What does it really require to thrive in this environment that rewards intimidation and pedophilia,
…when the forked road is the serpents tongue?
Is it better to be molested for a record deal, than a happy meal as D Chapel said?
Or is that Hollywood talking?
I don’t want to throw him under a bus, he made a joke out a pedophile’s opinion,
but it is the way he mentioned it
that I took note…
He said money was the balance
You see the equation he told was fame x money + pedophilia = it could have been worse 🤷🏽‍♀️

You see, he was right, it could be much more uncomfortable in my amalgamations
You could get abused and molested and no reward
Grooming; reinforces behavior so that it can be repeated expanded and cultivated
So the people garden of Hollywood is planted in fame watered with money
And fertilized with molestation?

I certainly could be envious
All molestation gave me was trauma to heal and an expanded compassion
I couldn’t eat that when my stomach was empty and I couldn’t even afford a dollar for a burger
Or when my money was stolen and I couldn’t pay my rent
I couldn’t even vent about my issues
When I had my black girl in a racist world problems I didn’t have molestations rewards and I was miserable
…and they say misery loves company so I kept my mouth shut lest I be judged too goddamn weak

…and what about suicide?
What about those young bodies 6 feet deep in the Earth who didn’t get to see their names in lights? Who forgot to fight when the drugs took over? Who woke sober and realized someone decided for them? What would they have done?

Am I stronger for being alive?
…Or weak for all times I was broke?

Am I one opinion against the grain?
Am I unsane or insane? Am I lame to care?

Do the ghost of children passed ever haunt Beverly Hills? Or does a $10,000 dress equate a job well done? Can they discount their imprint on young minds in red bottom shoes and parents who knew but were too greedy or afraid to lose fame or expose taboo?

Now the garden is cultivated
With people who either took off their shoes or pretended they were unaware of the pedophile next door
Of people who were told that to care is to fold
And besides you can take that well traveled road all the way to the bank
You think it’s fair 🤔
To be chosen for fame because you can remain silent about something so blatantly wrong?
Have they sold out?
…and what about those who said no?
Is the difference between a obstacle and a crime the sum of the gains
Am I looking at a screen filled with children who sucked a lot of dicks for fame?

Am I too lame to know the trappings of wealth are worth defilement of a young soul with spirits they’re not ready for (that’s not a metaphor)

And what of suicide?
Is that only weak minds who can’t cope?

Is the joke on me who don’t know that fame is worth it and there didn’t seem to be another way?
YouTube is young and I’m glad to have another outlet to put our talents on display
Social media paved the way for those not likely swayed by bullying

It’s blatant but what to expect when the land is cultivated with people who look the other way when they see a rich rapist?
What about the youth of tomorrow
When they don’t remove the stone in the path or speak up but don’t name names
What are we supposed to do with that?


10 Thousand Miles

10 Thousand Miles.

10 miles to home with dog shit between my toes

I was barefoot in the park

There was 300 by 50 cubit feet of ark but Noah wouldn’t let me in, so I wondered around the park until the drizzle turned into a downpour tripping on dog shit instead of daisies

Noah told me my hair is too kinky to be innocent and sin is in the roundness of my ass




It was a chance meeting at the train station

That introduced me

He wasn’t happy to see me

Didn’t grin

Scowled a little

Nose turned up figuratively

Mouth winced teeth clinched

And I perceived much more than I let them see

He was the other man in my bedroom

I did assume we were three

And crazy as it seems I didn’t leave immediately

When this new information

Crashed into my reality

For a time I let it sleepEyes wide shut

It was the kind of rough I was in a rut

It was all too much

Already stretched at the seam

But…Eventually he confessed

I thought that it was best

He came out of the closet

He was making a mess of


Thought he could live his best life if he could live with himse


But it was not revealed to anyone else but me

So we parted our ways

I kept it to myself

His sexuality was his secret to keep

But stained in my memory will always be

A chance meeting At the train station


I Miss Drinking

I Miss Drinking

I’ve been thinking

Of a cocktail that words flow with every sip

I think I may have left my sanity at the bottom of a bottle

Thinking of being a little too tipsy and letting my thoughts flow like water over a bridge

My world is shrinking

I’m discouraged

…and frankly I’m contemplating weather or not I should ever eat again

Are friends necessary for my honest evolution?

Is eating just a condition of a arrested development?

Is fasting a solution to an unnecessary question that cost me twenty three years of dread?

Should I stay in this bed?

Should I stay in this bed because life gets less comfortable with all the steps?

Are we all just a cosmic experiment that doesn’t truly matter?

Am I really cosmic trash to the powers that be?

Does freedom exist in any form or is it the shiny chain we fasten onto our own necks like KahlilGibran said?

Do I matter at all?

…I miss drinking

If I fall in a forest and I scream can anyone hear me?

Because I fell in a city of people and no one noticed

Why the fuck did we all bother with modesty in the first place?

Is drinking the escape or the poems and tales I write to replace a life unlived?

Does anyone even care how I feel?

…Does anyone care how I feel about anything at all?

Does it take this much to heal?

I know this may sound like whining

…but I miss drinking

I miss drinking and singing from sundown until sunset and falling asleep after a night well spent

If I can’t do that is it worth living at all?

Is it better to fall after the climb?

Is all the time I spent wrestling with these questions going to pay off?

If mean people inherit all that’s fun about the world is kindness really better?…or just some bullshit we’re told to shut up about it?

Does it matter if they huff in puff if I can hide in a cave with Jack Daniels and watch the wallscave in?

Is Gin the real friend if she never tells me to shut up about it and makes me cast all my cares

 away and laugh?

Isn’t that exactly what real friends do?

…over margaritas

and strong daiquiris

Isn’t that exactly what real friends do?

I miss drinking


I never considered myself an alcoholic

It’s not that I could quit anytime I wanted

I didn’t want to quit

I admit I was drinking quite a bit

…more than average

…which is unfair to say because I don’t really know what average is?

Drinking connected my day from pain to sleep

I keep thinking that drinking could just be the chemical technology for me

…and I have the audacity to take it for granted?

Peed my pants in public because I was too drunk to get to a restroom

I assumed that was how you knew

I didn’t quit because I thought I needed to, anyway

…and I have to say it was much more fun the other way

…but no,I didn’t keep drinking because I wanted to be healthy

To see old age with some dignity

(I’ll get peace when I’m dead)

But it’s so painful this way

I feel like my life is fading away

…and a drink will help me see things clearly

This ain’t nearly as fun for me

I think about wine all the time

…and maybe I wouldn’t mind

having a drink


I Don’t Like Cocaine

I Don’t Like Cocaine

I don’t like cocaine

I was thinking the other day

I don’t like cocaine

Believe it or not it was a revelation

I’d seen it on t.v.

Seemed like the “glamorous life”

I once was offered cocaine you see,

…by people who look like me

It was odd to see for the first time after all that footage on t.v. of dirty disheveled people

…Or those people walking the streets in a hurry at 3am

It was an ordinary day when a guy I happen to know pulled out his vile and separated lines in my living room

Then my friends proceeded to snort it off his drivers license in my kitchen

We were already high on ecstasy and weed but I could still think

It was passed around

One nose

…Two nose

…Three nose

…Then me

It would be my first experience and I did wander how it would be

Was it all he said it would be?

He had laughter in his wet eyes

He seemed fine

Cute as can be, and he was clean as if he’d bathed lately

I looked down as he carefully shaped up another line

I was anorexic at the time and thought, why not?

I could lose so much weight, I was already ballooning up to 117 pounds and a size seven!

…and it might be neat if I could get high at the same time

It was a moment of consternation

It was enough time to daydream about the possibilities

…of what might happen to me if I got high and liked it and wanted some more

I was already working, a full time student and at the dance studio 3 or 4 days a week

I didn’t have much money or time free

…hardly even for this impromptu party,

What was I going to do?

Then there was that moment of truth, when he pushed his license under my nose and images of some strange guys pissy smelling dick was all I could think about

How many sweaty balls would I be compelled to fondle to get more of this stuff if l like it?

I was not a likely prostitute

I turned it down

…and you’d think that would be it

…but it wasn’t

Cocaine came around again

Like the b_tch you blocked on your Facebook timeline but popped up anyway because she is friends with your friends

She was saying “I bet you want this $20”, and my pockets were empty

There was a hiccup that interfered with my life’s dreams and there she was in a brand new red t-shirt and jeans with brand new tennis shoes

I will admit this probably wasn’t the way it would usually go

…didn’t fit the normal scenario

To get paid to snort cocaine rather the other way around

At the time I was thinking this may show how “special” I must be

Free drugs too!

…I may have been drinkingtoo much

I gave it a snuffIt was a circus of energy

like fireworks

Everything was shiny like a brand new world!

I danced to the tune playing in my head It didn’t even scare me like I dreaded …and later when I could finally move off my floor


had determined I,

in fact,

would not commit suicide

…after allI thought about it and realized

… I really didn’t like cocaine

It was the last time I would try it

Lesson squarely learned

The up was not worth the downI didn’t chase anything but my dignity

..after I didn’t get the $20 dollars he’d promised me

To think, I was almost dead for nothing

This was the line in my head

As I said, I don’t like cocaine


In Hindsight

In Hindsight

No, I didn’t call you back

In fact, It wasn’t an accident I wasn’t tired

I was inspired

I painted through the night and fell asleep high

I thought about telling myself I didn’t feel like being entertaining

…but that




I won’t lie to myself

Or you

I let your feelings cross my mind

Thought about calling for a second time and still did not aquence to social norms

I thought to myself 3 weeks ago

2 weeks ago

ast week

I should make new friends

It’s obvious I’m not putting in the effort

Maybe being alone is a little less anxiety?

I’ve got scars, you see

…Fading underneath these tattoos

…and these jeans

No. That’s not it either 🤔

I bcan be alone With my own thoughts

Adding up every 2 cents

To a thousand thoughts

I’m one in 300 Billion a little less lost

In the Consciousness

I remember so many nights

Laughing at my own humor

Singing my own songs

There were no rumors

I adored my own opinion and that meant something to me

I was enough

It was tough to be me …and it was easy to be seen but not touched

t was much ado about everything

I was my favorite thing

And company didn’t mean this much


It’s a complicated scene in here with all the world I perceive

It shouldn’t seem that friendship would be so

… complicated


I Once Walked Into A Church


I once walked into a church

Walked up to the front pew

And sat there to get a good view

Of the pastor and to better hear his news

Then someone walk over to me promptly

Told me to find another seat

These were reserved for the First Ladies of the church

I was still confused but I moved

I was slightly offended by this

If I wanted to sit here so I wouldn’t miss the sermon I didn’t let it be a burden

Then I started to research the sacred text

Found that it was much more complex

Than any pastor knew

I found that I knew it’s interpretation

And the preachers were preaching subjugation

And getting paid for this

Although I now knew what I knew I had to be steadfast and askew

Producing financially and material tooInstead I had to know how profound It was that my life projection was bound

To the spirits whose knowledge I was taught

This knowledge could not be sold or boughtI lived in isolation and shelters

People treated me like they were “better”Subjugated to ancestors who were haters

Had to march across a desert and wait till later

To have any comfort or relief To have any kind off release

From the spirits who opposed my vibrations

They made up the society

Now I’m not offended in the least Of not sitting in those front seats

know that I know more than preachers preach

I would not take a donation

To tell you about the vibrations

Or the spells to unburden subjugation

Or release the demonic grip on the nations

Sometimes I feel I’ve lost my youth

Tracing the path of my roots

To brilliant ancestors to undo

What bound me to dishonesty I grew to innerstand

That nothing was more important than

What I perceive beyond most other man

Right now anyway and that today and tomorrow are the same but tomorrow I gain exponentially

It is sleepless nights and confrontation

Demons who make proclamations who burdened me and manifested separation

But innerstand now my natural occupation

I am no longer a Christian I do not have a religion

They are only institutions of division

…I’m glad I made the decision To question everything