Maat

And is it possible that the hearts have
diverging paths like the rivers opening in all directions?

with the memory of an elephant, as fickle as an indian giver.

Love is more than a feeling, it is a conscious effort. A fight for control. With both defeats and triumphs.

Mutual affection is not grounds for the cultivation of a relationship.

The heart is queen to be defended at all costs. Feelings deferred aren't quite the same as dreams.

If hearts are meant to be broken, I'll leave yours intact.

Just so  Anubis won't give you a hard time in Maat.

Curiosity

Shy girl, curious, closed bud. Night skyline. Bright lights. Seventh floor. Nervous energy. Heat. Soft lips, weak knees. Brown eyes. Open shades, closed shades. Open petals. Confusion. Drama, envy, anger patience. Obsession. More patience. Adoration. Love.

Kwansaba

Now our people bleach their beauty away

Bitch is the word of the day

A tree cut away from its roots

But slowly we find our way back

Step with grace away from creamy crack

Let us pray from real crack too

Build the race and save sons too

Haiku's

Baltimore
Many row houses
Concrete roses
Hidden treasure too


Black life not valued
Trayvon Martin's are more common
Passivness is death


My ambition grows
Like a field of wild flowers
I don't defer dreams


Love and life are strange
Beauty and pain encompassed
Life a dim street


Forever in his heart
Our destinies intertwined
Introduced by God

Blackened Pages

I remember when someone read my inner most thoughts.
I felt naked, transparent. As if all my weaknesses had been laid out on a silver platter.

I write but I'm not an open book.
I'm a paragraph and a few chapters here and there.

Blackened pages where I don't want light to shine.
My thoughts are golden like honey coated cornbread.
My mind is a hive, I protect its sweet nectar.

My thoughts are outside the box. In a different geometric lane.

I think of aliens in far off lands and what they think of the human race.
I dreamt of my past life. I ran as a slave.

The image of caged black bodies, burning, seared into my memory.

Sleep became my mothers secret lover.
Forgotten at school, I knew she was locked in his warm embrace.

Asking my father where he was going resulted in a snarky reply of, "To the moon."

It wasn't long before I appreciated his time spent on the moon.

My mother laughed and played music. She relayed cherished tales of my Grandmother; who would whoop the ass of any woman foolish enough to tamper with her man of her children.

A light and a certain vibe filled the house. Peace
Peace that never existed when my parents were in close proximity.

It was hard to believe they ever loved each other. Years down the road, my dad told me that they were the same person in High School.
But they didn't grow together.

He blossomed into a social butterfly.
She stayed in her cocoon receiving small glimpses of light.
Me and my sister made her glow.
Watching her stagnate made me dim.

It pains me to watch the beautiful women everyone says I look so much like fade.
Bitterness and anger stand where she used to be.

My aunt told me she wasn't always like this. Not when she was young.
When her mother died a large part of her died.

I can't deny that a part of me resents the woman I never met. She took my mothers joy with her to the grave.