Thursday, February 28, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 59 - For my mother

We are the best work in progress
Our fingers ever moist 
Holding the pages 
Where we left off
To re create
To story again
A bond too important to vapor

Here we are
Two grown women
In the lesson of mother and daughter
In the learning of friend and sister

I honor you

I wish I had your smile
My lips never curled quite like yours
Your eyebrows and hair
But my cheekbones are like yours
My cheeks my nose

Was I your hardest paper to write
Your first draft
Did you outline me in your mind
In Roman numerals?
Alphabet?
Stars drawn in pencil?

I love you, you know
You do know, right?
I rush the words so fast
They fall from my chin so train
Like beads down my neck
With the string fresh cut

I am always afraid
Of losing you
Of not saying
Not hearing all the words

All of your stories
The ones tucked in your forgotten

I am afraid
And I am at peace
Isn't that silly?
To shake and be still in tandem

Thank you
For sketching me out of your womb
For giving me what you know

What do any of us know
About growing a life
About letting one go

Gratitude

I am thankful this morning for waking up and seeing this clear blue California day. I am thankful for my mental, physical and spiritual health. For peace, calm and quiet. I am thankful for my friends and family. For food and shelter. I am thankful for my son. For creativity. For Netflix, the series Lie to me, and my iPad. I am thankful for the work I have to do today, the people I may meet, the roads I will travel. I look forward to my experience and participation in this big day.

Good day. Free write.

Today was a good day. I am feeling much better today than I felt yesterday. Yesterday I felt much better than I felt the day before. We like that. Had a bit of a breakdown on Monday but was determined not to stay there. I called Janice and she listened. I loved myself enough to call her. I am thankful for her voice and her words. Her loving words that did not judge me or my thoughts or my space. She lovingly began with "You gotta get back on the meds" and she's right. For those of you who don't know, Janice is my aunt. I needed her voice. But mostly her listening. I needed to be heard by someone who has always known me. KNOWN me. GOTTEN me. You know? Priceless.

Thing about being in therapy this year is that all of these stories from forever ago are resurfacing. Stories and experiences I thought I was beyond. Beyond because I swept under the rug or because I had slapped some positive "Too blessed to be stressed" bumper sticker on top of and set it over there, wherever there, to majestically disappear into the ethers. Some stories I knew I wasn't "over" but judged myself for still being affected by them this long after the statute of limitations had expired. I'm cool / I'm fine / It's all good - God / I'm blessed. I know all the sayings, test me. Still, when I wake up from time to time remembering my grandmother telling me to wear a wig if I was gonna stand in front of the church and say a poem for my grandfather's funeral, I still feel some kinda way. And that was seventeen years ago. We were never overtly dysfunctional enough to be given credit as abusive, but it's lowkey digs like that throughout a girl's life that keep her questioning her enoughness.

There was no one major "DAYUUM! THAT WAS FUUUUUUCKED UP" that happened. I've had a few squeaky wheel dramas that called for grease and then for most of my life, specifically my childhood, a whole lotta pin pricks that hurt like shit to sit on but never made a hole big enough to be sent to the nurse's office. My self esteem issues come from the pricks. Not the rape (either one of them). Not the fall I took from falling off of a garage door as an eight year old that landed me in ICU with a fractured skull and concussion. But the feeling I got that I wasn't expected to be more than a good, polite Christian girl that some godly man would take care of. A girl who would grow up to live forever in the same city I was reared in, be successful enough at some city / county / state job, wear my hair straight and black girl long (just past my shoulders), then have a daughter and "train up a child..." Yeah, well. Instead I became the bald, artistic, bipolar sheep of the lot who will not be convinced that purple, green and kinte cloth do not go together.

The point of this entry is not to enumerate the pricks or the prickers or make myself victim of the year for surviving my awful life. I am victim of no one. No thing. My life was not awful. My life was my life. I was surrounded by people who did what they knew how to do. They loved me and I felt their love. AND they made mistakes that hurt for a very long time. I'm a parent now and I've made mistakes too. My prayer is that I am always open to hear my son's heart and his words. I pray that I have lived and live a life in front of him that leave him comfortable enough to have adult conversations with me about his feelings, places he was hurt, his pricks and prickers. The point is to look and notice that particular stories keep coming back up. Despite all the work I've done on myself. The prayer, courses, books, therapy. All the stuff. The point is to look at the why. I keep denying the why. I keep spiritual lying to myself. The way I have always moved past any kind of abuse was to somehow make it my fault. Good church girls like me just didn't make anybody else the bad guy. I blamed myself for things that couldn't have been my fault if I tried to make them my fault. I was a kid. But so what. Details. Kid, shmid. I carried shit I had no business. Bless my warped heart.

I believe the reason that some of my junk keeps coming up like plastic balls in a backyard pool is because life is giving me an opportunity to look at the what's so of those events through the lens of an adult and take them off of my card. To forgive myself for being so ridiculously hard on myself as a child and still. To let the nine year old girl who lives inside of me, trying to protect me and run my life, go play. Go be nine somewhere. Go swing on bars or beat somebody in the fifty yard dash or something. To let her know, the Robin who lives inside of me, that I've got this. That I'm real grown now and I get to create what I want for my life. That I don't have to seek the approval of any human being. I do not have to attach myself to anyone's dream for my life. I can thank the grace of God and acknowledge myself for getting this far, for being this amazing a being in the face of every put down, every negative thought and mean word delivered to me like a box of roses.

Where am I now? Well, my therapist, my aunt, my other aunt, cousin, uncle, cousin, about six or seven friends and one or two people I barely know on Facebook all agree that while I've come a long way in releasing a lot of pain, I still won't make any statement about any way I have ever been hurt without immediately protecting the person who caused the pain. Whoever they are. And THAT, let all them tell it, is not healthy. I should not tell a story about being a child and a preacher in my church sticking his tongue in my mouth every single solitary time he saw me, then confiding as a grown woman to an elder, former member of the church who responded, "I know. We all knew." THAT should not be followed with my hands waving and speaking in my nine year old voice words like, "No, I understand. She couldn't say nothin' 'cause she was scared. I mean, at that time women wasn't confrontin'..." Somebody please tell me to shut up.

I'm still working on myself. Letting the stories come, even memories that I had blocked and sometimes leave me numb and afraid in brand new ways. I told my friend Yuri that I was just gonna let myself heal by releasing stories one at a time and her response was what I needed, "That's how they got in there." That's where I am. Getting the junk out, loving the good times and creating what I want for my future. I didn't grow up to be what folks expected. I didn't. I grew up to be who I am. And I am not an apology. I am not someone to be side eyed and tolerated. I have a loving heart so gigantic in me I try to fit the world into it. I made huge mistakes. HUGE! And I honor myself for the mis steps I took. Because only someone willing to put herself out there to risk big, fail big could turn the lefts I turned. Still, at forty-three years old, my romantic life has not set the world, or my block (or my apartment building) on fire, but dammit if I don't show up for love like nobody's business. I'm a weeble. I wobble but I don't fall down. Bitches! I'm snarky. I'm beautiful (even if only in a "she gotta cool personality and a pretty face" kinda way). I love my son in every way I know how. I'm fly (say I ain't), generous. I am kind and a good friend. A good daughter, sister, aunt. I am. My organizing skills are boss thanna mug. I am talented. I put words and sentences together that serve as balm to ails ain't even been named yet. I do. All that AND I make a mean omelette. I am blessed, baby. I am. And more is still to come. Baby. Watch.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 58 - The love they water

These hands old and wise
Remember to touch, to carry
My drumming to yours
Let me hold and remember
Even after death
When my body is forgotten and stiff
Art with me now
Poem me all over 
Song me together
Reach into who I have always wanted to be for you
And work with me there

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 57 - Our untitled

I keep tip toeing
To not disturb the molecules knocking
The raccoon on top of the roof 
The neighbors fucking 
The taps on my keyboard
The digital clock blinking
Did you even know that 
Blinking made a noise
Will someone hush that flickering candle
The stoplight changing from red to green three blocks away
The refridgerator chilling juice and turkey and cheese
Dust falling onto the carpet
And then you 
And me

Monday, February 25, 2013

Good night free write

10:08pm. Home.

I have spent my whole life taking care of other people. Ask anyone who knows me. I have lived forever wanting folks to be happy even if it meant putting my feelings in the back seat. I have held my tongue more than was ever healthy for any human being. I have let the cruelest of words seep into my skin. Finally, as if the enough gods have declared enough, I can't anymore.

Sometimes

Getting out of bed seems impossible. And then hours, or a day later I get out of bed. Even if my feet are heavy on the floor. Even if I sit on the edge of the mattress longer than a sitcom. I stand up. I make my way to the toilet. I sit and even if just for a moment, I smile. I thank God. I acknowledge myself because I. Got. Up.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 56 - Time

I have built a fence around myself
In the worst way
I made lemonade with my lemons
Became addicted to the taste
Spent my life painting this cage
Sticking plastic flowers and smiley animal faces
Along the bars
People come from miles away
To see my fence
Comment on its colors
How it makes the neighborhood shine
But it is a fence
A cage 
A prison I must escape
One thought 
At a time

Sunday, February 24, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 55 - Because me

Today I will be quiet
Watch birds come to my feet
For bread
For song
I will create new ways to love myself
Ways I did not practice before
I have spent my life 
Either bending my back
Or apologizing for it being straight
I am not sorry anymore
For anything
I have spent all my sorrys
My belly runneth over 
Of words I swallowed
Because of your bad day
Your bad days 
Will no longer come before
My prayers
My eggs in the morning
My feet in the sand
I may not have time for you anymore
Whoever you are
I don't have lies for you anymore
About why I can't take your call
Listen about your life
Care about your woe
I have spent my lies and my cares
From now on
I simply
Don't want to
And I like the sound of that
Just fine

Saturday, February 23, 2013

We were never overtly dysfunctional enough to be given credit as abusive. We were cordial and kept our dirty laundry tucked safe inside our reputation.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 54 - Clear

I honored myself today 
With laughter 
With stories told 
Through tears and smile
Released memories
Been locked too long
Loved myself enough 
To call the foul
To declare what's so
Carved path and way 
To move beyond
Where I get stuck
Let secrets fall onto the concrete
To be saved there
In the cracks 
For someone else 
To solve and separate
I gifted myself with giggle
Over chains unlocked
Lies set straight
Kitchen too hot
See door wide open
To choose to walk through 
And create
Some
New 
Way

Friday, February 22, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 53 - Love. Hard. Talk.

It's all better out than in
Isn't that what they say
Better out 
The stories and feelings we vomit
Then clean up
Then throw up again
All the ugly down there
Messing up the new rug like that
But it matters 
If it matters
It matters
If we matter
Otherwise we 
Dirtied these good threads
For nothin'

Thursday, February 21, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 52 - Rhythm me to sleep with all of your drum, your jazz, your be (to be heard with upright bass, jimbe, smoky room, kiss and gin)

Give me red
Blues
Give me arms around my shoulders
Thump
Thump
Thump thump
I need orange 
Purple in my life
Give me space
Give me with you
But away
Every now and again
A bass to play
A song to sing
Give me simple words to say
Snap
Snap
Give me voice
Stare
Breath to release
Give me easy
Spin
More
Slow
Give me be
Give me motion
Hips
Moan
Noise
Prayer
Sun
Grown
Clap clap
Give me touch
Speak warm to my afraid
Dream 
Time
Surprise
Give me sleep
Wake me
Water
Stomp
Stomp
Stomp stomp
Give me sweaters
Too long sleeves
Stretched
Cotton
Give me words
That never end
Whistle
Whistle
Until I am
All
The
Way
Home

My dad

C: When did your father die?

Me: My father died in 2009. (pause) My father died yesterday.

C: Yesterday was the anniversary of his death?

Me: No.

C: Oh, that's what it feels like.

Me: Yeah. Like that. My father used to tell me the best stories and say the most off stuff. I knew I could tell him anything. One time he told me, he said, "Don't nevah be afraid to talk to me. You a grown woman an' I ain't gon judge you about nothin' but I'm still yo father and I'm always gon protect you. If you call me in the middle of the night and tell me that you don had sex wif eighteen men 'cause you wanted to, but then one mo had sex wif you that you didn't want, and you told him no, then I ain't gon judge you 'cause you did what you wanted to do. But I'm comin' after that nineteenth mothafucka."

Sticks and stones rarely break bones, but...

I woke up this morning thinking about words. Words and how we use them to hurt people. Maybe we do this because we are hurt and want someone else to know we are hurt or want them to join us in misery. I don't know. Perhaps there is something to "misery loves company" and "hurt people hurt people." Both of those sayings are extremely irritating to me because they leave no space for any possibility for pleasure and happiness on this planet. We have all been hurt in some way. We have all been miserable about something. Does my hurt and misery give me license to abuse the closest person to me? Of course not. We need a break from it. From dodging word darts. I know that space. I know hurting people with my words and being hurt by others. In the end, we don't feel better. We don't. What if instead we recognized our pain and began a mental and spiritual healing craze as big as physical fitness and then all over the planet, HEALED PEOPLE HEAL PEOPLE?!

Gratitude

I am thankful this morning for waking up and being witnes to this beautiful day. I am thankful for mental clarity, for good health, for spiritual soundness. For my son. For my friends and family. I am thankful for shelter and food. For the use of my limbs, my eyesight, hearing and speech. I am thankful for poetry, art, photography. For all of the artists in my life. For my job and car. For prayer, my journals, this blog. I am thankful in a mighty way, for this quiet time right now.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 51 - It

Living is in the pause
Between arguments that come up 
Because someone sparked someone's trigger
We are both soldiers in this war of love
Walking around 
Loaded weapons
Camouflage
Feeling our way blind
In this dark smoky place
Stepping on land mines
We never know what touch
What word 
What look will
Boom our polite bodies to implode
Every day my gait less gentle
Your footing more solid 
We push away trees
Step through tall grass
Lie in hot sun
Cold nights
On our way to 
The other side 

All one

No. I will never believe the words "I love you" from someone I hear speak hate towards others. I won't.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Gratitude

This evening I give thanks for being alive on this day. For going to work and getting home safely. I am thankful for my family and friends. For Love. For shelter and food. I am thankful for the energy to work out this morning. For the heavy rain coming down right now. I am thankful for this quiet time to write, to think, to pray. I am thankful for loving myself. I am thankful for my son, who is beautiful, generous and kind. I am thankful for my life. I am thankful for being thankful.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 50 - Forward

When we are all looking for connection
What good is your hate 
Over who someone loves

Monday, February 18, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 49 - Untitled

Listen me with your eyes
Even if you have to pretend 
The worthwhile of my words
Dangerous me deep in your gaze
Jasmine me with your lilies
Unafraid all over my space
Beckon me stay here 
To give it one more again
Everything in me woman
Is reaching to be needed
To be lifted with your palms
And tendered by your ears
Skin me soft again
Save my life again
I am feeling fatherless tonight
I am nobody's precious anything today
Wish me goodbye this sorrow inside
Too tucked for your lips to kiss
Too away for my fingers to snatch
Unfold me
Like before 

Sunday, February 17, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 48 - Dear Uraeus

When you are faced with compromise
May God grant you wisdom to know
If the price is more 
Than you can or want to pay
I wish you clarity and choice
To yes or to no
I hope for you courage
To stay or to go

Saturday, February 16, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 47 - Fluid

I am not a crooked 
To be straightened 
Like denim
Like leather
Cracked 
Old 
Folded
Am not a twisted 
To be untangled
Pressed straight
Permed forever into submission
I am more a braid
A body split in three
Wrapping round every part of myself
To hold this goddess
This artist
This lover of all things with knocking heart
Or story to share
So what I cry sometimes
The flowers don't mind
Every other somebody's black eye
Makes me weep
I am wired that way I think
Besides, these my tears not yours
What never mind should it make you
I am not a broken
Begging your repair
I have smile
Got laugh so loud and free
This belly shake so up and down 
All the funny I seen
You can't fix a 
Not broken thing as me

Friday, February 15, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 46 - To Korlah

I know
I was there before
On that front row
Staring at that box 
Polished and gray
Holding my father
The minister said something
I think
Someone sang a song
Maybe
My feet carried me to the front
My mouth opened 
A poem came out
They say
Much of that day is a blur
Every now and again 
I miss him too much
And then I'm ok
Kinda
He was never there
You know
In that box
Clean as it was
He was next to me
Making me laugh
Calling me his daughter
Still
And still

Thursday, February 14, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 45 - To V.B. and L.C.

Yours is the voice that smooths
And wraps its wisdom round my 
Thumping heart when I have no words 
To say
Your listen is the quiet 
That holds me up 
When I could walk into 
The ocean
And never return to shore
You human me
When I am afraid of my reflection
In the river
Who is that woman
With what used to be my face
I remember those hands
Those knees that used to
Bend and reach so free
You blood me
You flesh me
You give me my remember
When I want to run away
You bring me my toes
My legs
Those are my thighs
My breasts and chin
You body me back again
You wing me
You wind me 
You song my skin together 
I am breath because of you
I am blink and tongue
See these arms and veins
You pray and poem
And now I am lungs and bones
Because you believed 

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 44 - Because

Love is plenty 
Graceful
Counting forevers and onlys
Soul 
Level
Ideal and silent
Love is drum and
Everywhere and will not 
Beg you play
She will extend 
Her quiet arms
And offer you bliss
Comb her hair
Wash her face
Love will
Shave her legs
And ready herself
For the sun
She will shine
Her light
And be
Love is 
Beyond the breadth of death
Her scent will forever
In the curtains
Even when you 
Vapor
Love will meet you 
There in dust and ash
And glory
To love again
Day every

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 43 - Our song

For everything worth it
There is a something to climb
Always a river to breathe through
A mountain to limp around
Only fools turn up the radio
To not hear the squeaky breaks
We are not fools
We are steppers
Dancing to oil

Regarding Chritopher Dorner

The easiest thing to do in this situation is dismiss someone as crazy. That's just too easy and it pulls attention away from other facts we don't know. That's where the truth is...in the somewhere we don't know. When I was growing up my uncle Bubba used to tell me that the truth is not something handed to you, but something you have to research for yourself. Well, maybe not in all situations but this, I believe is one of those cases.

2:21pm. There is a shoot out going on right now between police and Dorner in the mountains. I'm trying to figure out where they are. Ok, on highway 38 near Glass Road. Where is that? Police said that he has a family tied up in a cabin up there. Police are there now because they were responding to a stolen car. I'm trying to type this as I'm watching the news. 

I'm really sorry that innocent people had to die. I am. For so many years black people specifically have been living every day in fear and constantly harassed by the police. Now they are threatened and harassed. No one is the hero. No side is right. It is sad that it has come to this. That a black man, former cop, former military feels like this is what he had to resort to. Whether he is "crazy" or not, I do believe that this is how people "snap." Because they don't feel heard. Not just Dorner as an individual, but this is what has led us to pop off. Constant pressure and abuse and no justice. 

This is what happens when we see so few examples of justice when we do it the right way. It is horrible that we have little to no faith in the justice system that we feel pushed into taking matters into our own hands. This is a lose/lose situation for us all. 

Ok, they just showed that they are in the San Bernardino mountain area. 

This is awful! Please bear with me. Again, I'm typing as I'm watching. They are searching all of the vehicles along that highway. The police are pointing their weapons inside of each vehicle. They just showed them searching a vehicle where there are children in the van and the officer's guns are pointed at them. And sadly, this is what they have to do because a family was taken and what else are they going to do to protect the citizens in the vicinity?

This just in... Two officers were shot and are being airlifted. 

I'll check back in later. I cannot stay with this all day. I can't. 

Monday, February 11, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 42 - Onion. Peeling. Open..

I remember
More and more 
Every day
The pictures are not just
Images
Like flashes
In the back of my mind
Buried under
Dreams forgotten 
By morning

Telling the story 
Is only part 
The journey
Healing is the
Rest

And rest is the rest

I heard that

I'm sitting in my car outside of work and two teenagers, about fourteen years old just walked by and one said to the other, "Man, I know I'm gonna be rich when I'm older, but I wish I was rich right now as a kid." Love it.

Gratitude

I am thankful for waking up today. For my mental, physical and spiritual health. For an easy rest last night. I am thankful for Love. For my son. My family and friends. I am thankful for a wonderful time last night. I am thankful that I made it to my therapy appointment this morning. I am thankful that this morning at Starbucks I only ordered peppermint tea.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

This is the poem I read tonight at the Pan African Film Festival - My note to poets

1. Do not set out to write the poem that will change the world
The world will be here
Circling the sun
Wishing we treated her like flower

Create the poem that will describe the moment 
From your own tongue and its particular magic lick
Like paintbrush spread baobab trees to surround and protect our Eden

2. Do not guilt me into a revolution
You are afraid to fight yourself
Unball your fists and open your mouths

I have my own stories to set free
Tell me you love me
Even if I am not donned in fatigue
Or red, black and green
Ain't I your woman, too

3. It matters that you open your vaults and let loose your stories to butterfly
Poetry, like love and touch 
Is not a luxury like panty hose or latte
Even if you do not call yourself a poet
Or lover
That thump inside you that beats your guts to grits is poem
And is begging like baby reincarnate to come out
And speak its voodoo verbs
Pleading like a musician's broken fingers
To play and pray

4. We are this now full lipped dark skinned people
New with perfect words we use so eloquently 
And words we rubix cube as code to our brothers and sisters
As our ancestors did with drum
We are the stuttering authentic garble of 
Passed down moans so prickly and hallelujah they cannot be transcribed
But we make do

Our voice is the last whisper of Trayvon Martin and Hadiya Pendleton
The smile of Gabrielle Douglass that leaps and twists our own proud brown faces
This now when our babies are being bullied by classmates
Dying by their own hands or held by police
Traded for sex or shot down by strangers

We hear you Oscar, Amadu, Emmit
And all the names we wrap in sage and kinte

Bread of heaven, bread of heaven
Feed me till I want no more

5. We need your colors across our fences and freeways
To remind us of home, folkways and mores 
In this day of racial tension and privatized prisons
This moment of Christopher Dorner and what is the truth
In our post racial society and stand your ground
Your ribbons are necessary to the now

6. We devalue the simple in the every day
Afraid to cozy up in the cliche of raindrops and bird chirps
Laughter and forgiveness
We spend so much time not sweating the small stuff
We miss the texture only it can create

7. Where is your story about love
About the good in the world
It is all necessary to the orange of the moment
When blue is what we have to read
Every day
Every day somebody's woman done left
Somebody's baby done gone

8. This is our work
Our work that chose us before birth
To paint the why and the when
To be stitches holding life together
To be needles pricking cloth
Connecting our social justice 
Stitch stitch
To our spiritual communities
Pull pull

We are shoelaces 
You and I 
Coming in and out of holes
Twisting, knotting up
Wrapping into pretty bows
Holding on tight
Coming apart
Wrapping up nicely again

This is our work

Bridging our what we know to what you have
The winningest barter ever
This is the job
To poke bleed sew repeat
To hold things together
Like green line and white collar
To make it through the day
With sanity and soup
We all want soup
We are all on this train

Gonna lay down my burdens down by, down by the riverside

9. We are dangerous
When we discover the power of our together
The might of our stories quilted 
Will give cover to our children for generations we cannot count
Our verve is not enough
Our want to requires movement
What with the world so whating our lives away
Our film is not complete without your footage too

10. You will never create if you weigh each moment
Against your mother's death
Your father's cancer
The birth of your son
Your daughter's wedding

This is the thing about creating
To sit in the seat and tell your truth

This is the work

Sew us something we can hold on to
Grow from
Re member
Add soap to and
Wear again

Feed us words we can heal from 
Wrap up in and sop our ugliest tears

Getting it all out is the best revolution we can do for ourselves

We chocolate of many hued people
Let go and make room
For love
To make room
For tomorrow

A poem a day for 2013 - day 41 - A poem for D.W.

I will be bold enough to 
Say I understand
Because I do
Sister, I do
I know too well the 
Hairy reaching arms
And gooey spiky fingers
That poke and pull me to my lowest
The hammer feet that
Stomp when my
Head is on the ground
The voices, the gargly voices
That spit my name like nothing
I know what the valleys feel like
And I cannot talk you out of them
And I will always try
I do not have a pill for you to take
Or one word that I could say
I am here though
I am right here
Awake at your call
At any hour of the night
When the voices lie
And tell you you have no one
I pray you strength to recognize 
The truth
I am here, my friend
I will comb your hair
Or stare at the wall with you
Breathe on the phone
Or listen to you cry
There is no way you have to be with me
Just promise me, love
Please promise me your call

Saturday, February 9, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 40 - Black like me

A white man
In a parking lot
Today
Stood next to me
Unzipped his pants
And let urine
Stream from his 
Penis
Into a puddle 
That will one 
Day disappear
But that pool
In its evaporated state
Will never be
As invisible as 
I was
A black woman
Standing next to him
Under the sun

Gratitude

I am thankful this morning for waking up and seeing this day. For the safe travel of Love. For my son, my friends and family. I am thankful for rest and quiet. For taking care of myself. For energy and love and patience. I am thankful for poetry and stories that come to me.

Enjoy yourselves today.

Friday, February 8, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 39 - Heart. Blood. Flow.

Poetry is not a luxury
Like panty hose or latte
It is our stuttering true groan of this now
This now when our babies are being bullied by classmates
Held by police
Shot down by strangers
This now at the high point of racial tension
And stand your ground
In our post racial society
And gun control
Now when the opportunity for spiritual enlightenment is everywhere
And creating a cult takes no more than a notion
This is our work
To paint the why and the when
To be stitches holding life together
To be needle pricking holes
Connecting our social justice groups 
Stitch stitch
To our religious communities
Pull pull
Bridging our what we know to what you have
The best barter
This is our work
Poke bleed sew repeat
Holding things together
Like art and shelter
Getting through the day
With sanity and soup
We are dangerous
These tongues these hands
Poets
Dancers
Storytellers
Teachers
Film makers
Students
Rememberers
Readers
Markers of history
Builders of tomorrow
And now

So inspiring - NFL Characters Unite

7:54pm. Home.

I'm watching a show on the USA channel right now about NFL players surprising young people to inspire them. I am inspired watching this. I saw three of the four stories. The first one was of an eleven year old student who was bullied in school. I don't remember the ball player's name but he introduced the student to his favorite author who helped him write an essay to read in front of his school. Student beautifully read his essay on bullying and was so happy.

The second story was of two high school girls who were also bullied. What's the football player's name with the long, black, curly hair? Yes...him. He and his wife surprised them by taking them to a community center where a local band rehearsed. They were invited to perform with the band. Singing was an outlet for the girls but they had never performed with a group outside of their school glee club. You guessed it. They sang wonderfully and had a great time.

I missed the first story so the last of the four stories was of a seventeen year old student who has cancer. She told her stories about feeling down because people pointed, stared and made comments about her. The ball player who surprised her had to deal with the death of his mother from cancer when he was only thirteen. He shared experiences and feelings about how others discriminated against her because of her illness. He introduced the student to his passion of photography. He gifted her with a camera and she took pictures of some of the other cancer patients in the center where she was. One young girl looked at her picture and said, "When I look at that picture, I look like I don't have cancer." What a gift. What a blessing to give someone. Smile and inspiration.

The key in all of these stories is that each student put energy into being creative and used that creativity as an outlet to express themselves. That's why I paint, write, take pictures, recite poems and tell stories. To empty. To breathe. To be. To be inspired and inspire.

Quote of the day - Curtis Robinson

Create peace.

Spotlight of the day - Imani Tolliver

Seriously, I say this all of the time and I'm going to keep saying it until you all get it. Hear me now...I KNOW THE MOST AMAZING ARTISTS IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD! I do! My spotlight of the day goes to Imani Tolliver. We have known each other since um, um, I guess 1994 when I first started going to the World Stage in Leimert Park in Los Angeles. The Anansi Writers Workshop. I love everything about this brilliant woman and I am honored to call her friend. Back oh about eleven, twelve years ago we both lived in an area of Los Angeles commonly referred to as The Jungle. Yep. Remember the movie Training Day with Denzel Washington? THAT jungle. Well, Imani lived two blocks north of me and Jennifer Bowens (another bad ass human being and poet friend) lived two blocks north of us. And, keep up with me now, Yuri Hinson (need I say that she is another bad ass poet?) didn't exactly live in the jungle but we all made a nice crew and together became THE JUNGLE FLOWERS. No, we were not a for real group or anything, we were just four women who did what we could to be a light in a let's just say, a heavy environment.

We have all moved away but to me we will forever be the jungle flowers. Imani is a light and awesome example of woman, writer, friend, artist to me and to many. Last Wednesday at the World Stage we didn't have a featured artist so we used that time to...talk, to reconnect. Conney Williams (bad ass poet, I told you I know the best...) is the host of the poetry night and asked us to share stories of those back in the day World Stage days (that I miss like...like...I just miss them that's all). Imani's name came up all over the place. Her writing is so free, so grown, so...girl and honest. Don't just take it from me. Please visit her website at www.imanitolliver.com.

Love yourselves today

Gratitude

I am thankful today for conversing with Love and the love and friendship we share. For a warm and safe home. For my car that is running well. I am thankful for waking up this morning and for my son. For my friends and family. I am thankful for my art community and the great support I receive in the forms of money, cheers and attention. I am thankful for a mind to be thankful.

Christopher Dorner's manifesto

From: Christopher Jordan Dorner /7648

To: America

Subj: Last resort

Regarding CF# 07-004281

I know most of you who personally know me are in disbelief to hear from media reports that I am suspected of committing such horrendous murders and have taken drastic and shocking actions in the last couple of days. You are saying to yourself that this is completely out of character of the man you knew who always wore a smile wherever he was seen. I know I will be vilified by the LAPD and the media. Unfortunately, this is a necessary evil that I do not enjoy but must partake and complete for substantial change to occur within the LAPD and reclaim my name. The department has not changed since the Rampart and Rodney King days. It has gotten worse. The consent decree should never have been lifted. The only thing that has evolved from the consent decree is those officers involved in the Rampart scandal and Rodney King incidents have since promoted to supervisor, commanders, and command staff, and executive positions.

The question is, what would you do to clear your name?

Name;
A word or set of words by which a person, animal, place, or thing is known, addressed, or referred to.

Name Synonyms;
reputation, title, appellation, denomination, repute.

A name is more than just a noun, verb, or adjective. It’s your life, your legacy, your journey, sacrifices, and everything you’ve worked hard for every day of your life as and adolescent, young adult and adult. Don’t let anybody tarnish it when you know you’ve live up to your own set of ethics and personal ethos.

In 8/07 I reported an officer (Ofcr. XXXX/now a Sergeant), for kicking a suspect (excessive force) during a Use of Force while I was assigned as a patrol officer at LAPD’s Harbor Division. While cuffing the suspect, (XXXX), XXXX kicked the suspect twice in the chest and once in the face. The kick to the face left a visible injury on the left cheek below the eye. Unfortunately after reporting it to supervisors and investigated by PSB (internal affairs investigator Det. XXXX), nothing was done. I had broken their supposed “Blue Line”. Unfortunately, It’s not JUST US, it’s JUSTICE!!! In fact, 10 months later on 6/25/08, after already successfully completing probation, acquiring a basic Post Certificate, and Intermediate Post Certificate, I was relieved of duty by the LAPD while assigned to patrol at Southwest division. It is clear as day that the department retaliated toward me for reporting XXXX for kicking Mr. XXXX. The department stated that I had lied and made up the report that XXXX had kicked the suspect. I later went to a Board of Rights (department hearing for decision of continued employment) from 10/08 to 1/09. During this BOR hearing a video was played for the BOR panel where XXXX stated that he was indeed kicked by Officer XXXX (video sent to multiple news agencies). In addition to XXXX stating he was kicked, his father XXXX, also stated that his son had stated he was kicked by an officer when he was arrested after being released from custody. This was all presented for the department at the BOR hearing. They still found me guilty and terminated me. What they didn’t mention was that the BOR panel made up of Capt. XXXX, Capt. XXXX, and City Attorney XXXX had a significant problem from the time the board was assembled. Capt. XXXX was a personal friend of XXXX from when he was her supervisor at Harbor station. That is a clear conflict of interest and I made my argument for his removal early and was denied. The advocate for the LAPD BOR was Sgt. XXXX. XXXX also had a conflict of interest as she was XXXX friend and former partner from Harbor division where they both worked patrol together. I made my argument for her removal when I discovered her relation to XXXX and it was denied.

During the BOR, the department attempted to label me unsuccessfully as a bully. They stated that I had bullied a recruit, XXXX, in the academy when in reality and unfounded disposition from the official 1.28 formal complaint investigation found that I was the one who stood up for XXXX when other recruits sang nazi hitler youth songs about burning Jewish ghettos in WWII Germany where his father was a survivor of a concentration camp. How fucking dare you attempt to label me with such a nasty vile word. I ask that all earnest journalist investigating this story ask Ofcr. XXXX about the incident when Ofcr. XXXX began singing a nazi youth song about burning jewish ghettos.

The internal affairs investigation in the academy involving XXXX was spurned by a complaint that I had initiated toward two fellow recruit/offifcers. While assigned patrol footbeat in Hollywood Division, Officers XXXX and XXXX (both current LAPD officers) decided that they would voice their personal feelings about the black community. While traveling back to the station in a 12 passenger van I heard XXXX refer to another individual as a nigger. I wasn’t sure if I heard correctly as there were many conversations in the van that was compiled of at least 8 officers and he was sitting in the very rear and me in the very front. Even with the multiple conversations and ambient noise I heard Officer XXXX call an indivdual a nigger again. Now that I had confirmed it, I told XXXX not to use that word again. I explained that it was a well-known offensive word that should not be used by anyone. He replied, “I’ll say it when I want”. Officer XXXX, a friend of his, also stated that he would say nigger when he wanted. At that point I jumped over my front passenger seat and two other officers where I placed my hands around XXXXs’ neck and squeezed. I stated to XXXX, “Don’t fucking say that”. At that point there was pushing and shoving and we were separated by several other officers. What I should have done, was put a Winchester Ranger SXT 9mm 147 grain bullet in his skull and Officer XXXX’s skull. The Situation would have been resolved effective, immediately. The sad thing about this incident was that when Detective XXXX from internal affairs investigated this incident only (1) officer (unknown) in the van other than myself had statements constistent with what actually happened. The other six officers  all stated they heard nothing and saw nothing. Shame on every one of you. Shame on Detective XXXX (same ethnicity as XXXX) for creating a separate 1.28 formal complaint against me (XXXX complaint) in retaliation for initiating the complaint against XXXX and XXXX. Don’t retaliate against honest officers for breaking your so-called blue line. I hope your son XXXX, who I knew, is a better officer than you, Detective XXXX. The saddest part of this ordeal was that Officer XXXX and XXXX were only given 22 day suspensions and are still LAPD officers to this day. That day, the LAPD stated that it is acceptable for fellow officers to call black officers niggers to their face and you will receive a slap on the wrist. Even sadder is that during that 22 day suspension XXXX and XXXX received is that the LAPPL (Los Angeles Police Protective League) paid the officers their salaries while they were suspended. When I took a two-day suspension for an accidental discharge, I took my suspension and never applied for a league salary. Its called integrity.

Journalist, I want you to investigate every location I resided in growing up. Find any incidents where I was ever accused of being a bully. You won’t, because it doesn’t exist. It’s not in my DNA. Never was. I was the only black kid in each of my elementary school classes from first grade to seventh grade in junior high and any instances where I was disciplined for fighting was in response to fellow students provoking common childhood schoolyard fights, or calling me a nigger or other derogatory racial names. I grew up in neighborhoods where blacks make up less than 1%. My first recollection of racism was in the first grade at Norwalk Christian elementary school in Norwalk, CA. A fellow student, XXXX if I can recall, called me a nigger on the playground. My response was swift and non-lethal. I struck him fast and hard with a punch an kick. He cried and reported it to a teacher. The teacher reported it to the principal. The principal swatted XXXX for using a derogatory word toward me. He then for some unknown reason swatted me for striking XXXX in response to him calling me a nigger. He stated as good Christians we are to turn the other cheek as Jesus did. Problem is, I’m not a fucking Christian and that old book, made of fiction and limited non-fiction, called the bible, never once stated Jesus was called a nigger. How dare you swat me for standing up for my rights for demanding that I be treated as an equal human being. That day I made a life decision that i will not tolerate racial derogatory terms spoken to me. Unfortunately I was swatted multiple times for the same exact reason up until junior high. Terminating me for telling the truth of a Caucasian officer kicking a mentally ill man is disgusting. Don’t ever call me a fucking bully. I want all journalist to utilize every source you have that specializes in collections for your reports. With the discovery and evidence available you will see the truth. Unfortunately, I will not be alive to see my name cleared. That’s what this is about, my name. A man is nothing without his name. Below is a list of locations where I resided from childhood to adulthood.

Cerritos, CA.
Pico Rivera, CA.
La Palma, CA.
Thousand Oaks, CA.
Cedar City, UT.
Pensacola, FL.
Enid, OK.
Yorba Linda, CA.
Las Vegas, NV.

During the BOR an officer named, Sgt. XXXX, from Los Angeles Port Police testified on behalf of the LAPD. XXXX stated for the BOR that he arrived at the location of the UOF shortly before I cuffed the suspect. He also stated that he assisted in cuffing the suspect and that’s old the BOR he told me to fix my tie. All of those statements were LIES!!! XXXX, you arrived at the UOF location up to 30 seconds after I had cuffed Mr.XXXX. All you did was help me lift the suspect to his feet as it was difficult for me to do by myself because of his heavy weight. You did not tell me to fix my tie as the BOR members and everyone else in the room know you lied because the photographic evidence from the UOF scene where XXXX’s injuries were photographed clearly shows me wearing a class B uniform on that day. A class B uniform is a short sleeved uniform blouse. A short sleeved uniform blouse for the LAPD does not have a tie included. This is not Super Troopers uniform, you jackass. Why did you feel the need to embellish and lie about your involvement in the UOF? Are you ashamed that you could not get hired on by any other department other than port police? Do you have delusions of grandeur? What you did was perjury, exactly what XXXX did when she stated she did not kick XXXX.

What they failed to mention in the BOR was XXXX own use of force history during her career on the LAPD. She has admitted that she has a lengthy use of force record and has been flagged several times by risk management. She has a very well known nickname, Chupacabra, which she was very proud to flaunt around the division. She found it very funny and entertaining to draw blood from suspects and arrestees. At one point she even intentionally ripped the flesh off the arm of a woman we had arrested for battery (sprayed her neighbor with a garden water hose). Knowing the woman had thin elastic skin, she performed and Indian burn to the woman’s arm after cuffing her. That woman was in her mid-70’s, a mother and grandmother, and was angry at her tenants who failed to pay rent on time. Something I can completely understand and I am sure many have wanted to do toward tenants who do not pay their rent. XXXX was also demoted from a senior lead officer rank/position for performance issues. During my two months of working patrol with XXXX, I found her as a woman who was very angry that she had been pulled from patrol for a short time because of a domestic violence report made by Long Beach Police Department because of an incident involving her active LAPD officer boyfriend, XXXX, and herself. XXXX is the same officer investigated for witness tampering. She also was visibly angry on a daily basis that she was going to have to file for bankruptcy because her ex-husband, a former LAPD officer and not XXXX, who had left the department, state, and was nowhere to be found had left her with a tax bill and debt that she was unable to pay because of a lack of financial means. XXXX, you are a POS and you lied right to the BOR panel when XXXX asked you if you kicked XXXX. You destroyed my life and name because of your actions. Time is up. The time is now to confess to Chief Beck.

I ask that all journalist investigating this story submit request for FOIA with the LAPD to gain access to the BOR transcripts which occurred from 10/08 to 2/09. There, you will see that a video was played for the BOR members of Mr. XXXX who suffers from Schizophrenia and Dementia stating that he was kicked by a female officer. That video evidence supports my claim that XXXX kicked him twice in the upper body and once in the face. I would like all journalist to also request copies of all reports that I had written while employed by LAPD. Whether in the academy, or during my 3 years as a police officer. There are DR#’s attached to each report (investigative report) that I have ever written so they all exist. A FOIA request will most likely be needed to access these at Parker center or at the Personnel/Records. Judge my writin/grammar skills for yourself. The department attempted to paint me as an officer who could not write reports. Even though Sgt. XXXX a training officer who trained me stated for the BOR panel that there was nothing wrong with my report writing and that I was better than all rookie/probationer officers he has ever trained. Officer XXXX stated the same but refused to testify as he did not want to “get involved” with the BOR’s. Contact Sgt. XXXX ,(now a Captain at Lompoc PD), Sgt. XXXX, and Sgt. XXXX. All will state that my report writing was impeccable. I will tell you this, I always type my reports because I have messy handwriting/penmanship. I never had a single kickback/redlined report at Southwest division and Sgt. XXXX and Sgt. XXXX can testify to that. I never received an UNSATISFACTORY on any day or week. The same can be said within the U.S. Naval Reserves. All commanders will state that my report writing was always clear, concise, and impeccable. Even search my AAR (after action reports),chits, Memorandum’s, IIR’s (Intelligence Information Reports) which were written in the Navy. All were pristine.

I had worked patrol at LAPD’s Harbor Division from 2/06 until 7/06 when I was involuntarily recalled back to active duty (US Navy) for a 12 month mobilization/deployment to Centcom in support of OIF/OEF. I returned back to LAPD’s Harbor division on 7/07 and immediately returned to patrol. I worked at Harbor division until 11/07 where I then transferred to Southwest Division. I worked At Southwest division until 6/25/08 when I was relieved of duty.

I have exhausted all available means at obtaining my name back. I have attempted all legal court efforts within appeals at the Superior Courts and California Appellate courts. This is my last resort. The LAPD has suppressed the truth and it has now lead to deadly consequences. The LAPD’s actions have cost me my law enforcement career that began on 2/7/05 and ended on 1/2/09. They cost me my Naval career which started on 4/02 and ends on 2/13. I had a TS/SCI clearance(Top Secret Sensitive Compartmentalized Information clearance) up until shortly after my termination with LAPD. This is the highest clearance a service member can attain other than a Yankee White TS/SCI which is only granted for those working with and around the President/Vice President of the United States. I lost my position as a Commanding Officer of a Naval Security Forces reserve unit at NAS Fallon because of the LAPD. I’ve lost a relationship with my mother and sister because of the LAPD. I’ve lost a relationship with close friends because of the LAPD. In essence, I’ve lost everything because the LAPD took my name and new I was INNOCENT!!!  XXXX, XXXX, XXXX , and XXXX all new I was innocent but decided to terminate me so they could continue Ofcr. XXXX. I know about the meeting between all of you where XXXX attorney, XXXX, confessed that she kicked XXXX (excessive force). Your day has come.

I’m not an aspiring rapper, I’m not a gang member, I’m not a dope dealer, I don’t have multiple babies momma’s. I am an American by choice, I am a son, I am a brother, I am a military service member, I am a man who has lost complete faith in the system, when the system betrayed, slandered, and libeled me. I lived a good life and though not a religious man I always stuck to my own personal code of ethics, ethos and always stuck to my shoreline and true North. I didn’t need the US Navy to instill Honor, Courage, and Commitment in me but I thank them for re-enforcing it. It’s in my DNA.

Luckily I don’t have to live everyday like most of you. Concerned if the misconduct you were apart of is going to be discovered. Looking over your shoulder, scurrying at every phone call from internal affairs or from the Captains office wondering if that is the day PSB comes after you for the suspects you struck when they were cuffed months/years ago or that $500 you pocketed from the narcotics dealer, or when the other guys on your watch beat a transient nearly to death and you never reported the UOF to the supervisor. No, I don’t have that concern, I stood up for what was right but unfortunately have dealt with the reprocussions of doing the right thing and now losing my name and everything I ever stood for. You fuckers knew XXXX was guilty of kicking (excessive force) XXXX and you did nothing but get rid of what you saw as the problem, the whistleblower. XXXX himself stated on video tape ( provided for the BOR and in transcripts) he was kicked and even his father stated that his son said he was kicked by XXXX when he was released from custody. The video was played for the entire BOR to hear. You’re going to see what a whistleblower can do when you take everything from him especially his NAME!!!

Look what you did to Sgt. XXXX (now lieutenant) when he exposed the truth of your lying, racism, and PSB cover-ups to frame and convict an innocent man. You can not police yourselves and the consent decree was unsuccessful. Sgt. XXXX, I met you on the range several times as a recruit and as an officer. You’re a good man and I saw it in your eyes an actions.

Self Preservation is no longer important to me. I do not fear death as I died long ago on 1/2/09. I was told by my mother that sometimes bad things happen to good people. I refuse to accept that.

From 2/05 to 1/09 I saw some of the most vile things humans can inflict on others as a police officer in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the streets of LA. It was in the confounds of LAPD police stations and shops (cruisers). The enemy combatants in LA are not the citizens and suspects, it’s the police officers.

People who live in glass houses should not throw stones. How ironic that you utilize a fixed glass structure as your command HQ. You use as a luminous building to symbolize that you are transparent, have nothing to hide, or suppress when in essence, concealing, omitting, and obscuring is your forte.

Chief Beck, this is when you need to have that come to Jesus talk with Sgt. XXXX and everyone else who was involved in the conspiracy to have me terminated for doing the right thing. you also need to speak with her attorney, Rico, and his conversation with the BOR members and her confession of guilt in kicking Mr. XXXX. I’ll be waiting for a PUBLIC response at a press conference. When the truth comes out, the killing stops.

Why didn’t you charge me with filing a false police report when I came forward stating that XXXX kicked Mr. XXXX? You file criminal charges against every other officer who is accused and terminated for filing a false police report. You didn’t because you knew I was innocent and a criminal court would find me innocent and expose your department for suppressing the truth and retaliation, that’s why.

The attacks will stop when the department states the truth about my innocence, PUBLICLY!!! I will not accept any type of currency/goods in exchange for the attacks to stop, nor do i want it. I want my name back, period. There is no negotiation. I am not the state department who states they do not negotiate with terrorist, because anybody with a Secret or TS/SCI has seen IIR’s on SIPR and knows that the US state department always negotiates by using CF countries or independent sovereign/neutral country to mediate and compromising.

This department has not changed from the Daryl Gates and Mark Fuhrman days. Those officers are still employed and have all promoted to Command staff and supervisory positions. I will correct this error. Are you aware that an officer (a rookie/probationer at the time) seen on the Rodney King videotape striking Mr. King multiple times with a baton on 3/3/91 is still employed by the LAPD and is now a Captain on the police department? Captain XXXX is now the commanding officer of a LAPD police station (West LA division). As a commanding officer, he is now responsible for over 200 officers. Do you trust him to enforce department policy and investigate use of force investigations on arrestees by his officers? Are you aware XXXX has since promoted to Sergeant after kicking Mr. XXXX in the face. Oh, you Violated a citizens civil rights? We will promote you. Same as LAPD did with the officers from Metro involved in the May Day melee at MacArthur Park. They promoted them to Sergeant (a supervisor role).

No one is saying you can’t be prejudiced or a bigot. We are all human and hold prejudices. If you state that you don’t have prejudices, your lying! But, when you act on it and victimize innocent citizens and fellow innocen officers, than that is a concern.

For you officers who do the job in the name of JUSTICE, those of you who lost honest officers to this event, look at the name of those on the BOR and the investigating officers from PSB and XXXX and ask them, how come you couldn’t tell the truth? Why did you terminate an honest officer and cover for a dishonest officer who victimized a mentally ill citizen.

Sometimes humans feel a need to prove they are the dominant race of a species and they inadvertently take kindness for weakness from another individual. You chose wrong.

Terminating officers because they expose a culture of lying, racism (from the academy), and excessive use of force will immediately change. PSB can not police their own and that has been proven. The blue line will forever be severed and a cultural change will be implanted. You have awoken a sleeping giant.

I am here to change and make policy. The culture of LAPD versus the community and honest/good officers needs to and will change. I am here to correct and calibrate your morale compasses to true north.

Those Caucasian officers who join South Bureau divisions (77th,SW,SE, an Harbor) with the sole intent to victimize minorities who are uneducated, and unaware of criminal law, civil law, and civil rights. You prefer the South bureau because a use of force/deadly force is likely and the individual you use UOF on will likely not report it. You are a high value target.

Those Black officers in supervisory ranks and pay grades who stay in south bureau (even though you live in the valley or OC) for the sole intent of getting retribution toward subordinate caucasians officers for the pain and hostile work environment their elders inflicted on you as probationers (P-1′s) and novice P-2’s. You are a high value target. You perpetuated the cycle of racism in the department as well. You breed a new generation of bigoted caucasian officer when you belittle them and treat them unfairly.

Those Hispanic officers who victimize their own ethnicity because they are new immigrants to this country and are unaware of their civil rights. You call them wetbacks to their face and demean them in front of fellow officers of different ethnicities so that you will receive some sort of acceptance from your colleagues. I’m not impressed. Most likely, your parents or grandparents were immigrants at one time, but you have forgotten that. You are a high value target.

Those lesbian officers in supervising positions who go to work, day in day out, with the sole intent of attempting to prove your misandrist authority (not feminism) to degrade male officers. You are a high value target.

Those Asian officers who stand by and observe everything I previously mentioned other officers participate in on a daily basis but you say nothing, stand for nothing and protect nothing. Why? Because of your usual saying, ” I……don’t like conflict”. You are a high value target as well.

Those of you who “go along to get along” have no backbone and destroy the foundation of courage. You are the enablers of those who are guilty of misconduct. You are just as guilty as those who break the code of ethics and oath you swore.

Citizens/non-combatants, do not render medical aid to downed officers/enemy combatants. They would not do the same for you. They will let you bleed out just so they can brag to other officers that they had a 187 caper the other day and can’t wait to accrue the overtime in future court subpoenas. As they always say, “that’s the paramedics job…not mine”. Let the balance of loss of life take place. Sometimes a reset needs to occur.

It is endless the amount of times per week officers arrest an individual, label him a suspect-arrestee-defendant and then before arraignment or trial realize that he is innocent based on evidence. You know what they say when they realize an innocent man just had his life turned upside down?. “I guess he should have stayed at home that day he was discovered walking down the street and matching the suspects description. Oh well, he appeared to be a dirtbag anyways”. Meanwhile the falsely accused is left to pick up his life, get a new, family, friends, and sense of self worth.

Don’t honor these fallen officers/dirtbags. When your family members die, they just see you as extra overtime at a crime scene and at a perimeter. Why would you value their lives when they clearly don’t value yours or your family members lives? I’ve heard many officers who state they see dead victims as ATV’s, Waverunners, RV’s and new clothes for their kids. Why would you shed a tear for them when they in return crack a smile for your loss because of the impending extra money they will receive in their next paycheck for sitting at your loved ones crime scene of 6 hours because of the overtime they will accrue. They take photos of your loved ones recently deceased bodies with their cellphones and play a game of who has the most graphic dead body of the night with officers from other divisions. This isn’t just the 20 something year old officers, this is the 50 year old officers with significant time on the job as well who participate.

You allow an officer, XXXX, to attempt to hack into my credit union account and still remain on the job even when Det. XXXX shows the evidence that the IP address (provided by LAPFCU) that attempted to hack into my account and change my username and password leads directly to her residence. You even allow this visibly disgusting looking officer to stay on the job when she perjures (lies) in court (Clark County Family Court) to the judge’s face and denies hacking into my personal credit union online account when I attempted to get my restraint order extended. Det. XXXX provided the evidence and you still do nothing.

How do you know when a police officer is lying??? When he begins his sentence with, “based on my experience and training”.

No one grows up and wants to be a cop killer. It was against everything I’ve ever was. As a young police explorer I found my calling in life. But, As a young police officer I found that the violent suspects on the street are not the only people you have to watch. It is the officer who was hired on to the department (pre-2000) before polygraphs were standard for all new hires and a substantial vetting in a backround investigation.

To those children of the officers who are eradicated, your parent was not the individual you thought they were. As you get older,you will see the evidence that your parent was a tyrant who loss their ethos and instead followed the path of moral corruptness. They conspired to hide and suppress the truth of misconduct on others behalf’s. Your parent will have a name and plaque on the fallen officers memorial in D.C. But, In all honesty, your parents name will be a reminder to other officers to maintain the oath they swore and to stay along the shoreline that has guided them from childhood to that of a local, state, or federal law enforcement officer.

Your lack of ethics and conspiring to wrong a just individual are over.
Suppressing the truth will leave to deadly consequences for you and your family. There will be an element of surprise where you work, live, eat, and sleep. I will utilize ISR at your home, workplace, and all locations in between. I will utilize OSINT to discover your residences, spouses workplaces, and children’s schools. IMINT to coordinate and plan attacks on your fixed locations. Its amazing whats on NIPR. HUMINT will be utilized to collect personal schedules of targets. I never had the opportunity to have a family of my own, I’m terminating yours. XXXX, XXXX, XXXX, and BOR members Look your wives/husbands and surviving children directly in the face and tell them the truth as to why your children are dead.

Never allow a LAPPL union attorney to be a retired LAPD Captain,(XXXX). He doesn’t work for you, your interest, or your name. He works for the department, period. His job is to protect the department from civil lawsuits being filed and their best interest which is the almighty dollar. His loyalty is to the department, not his client. Even when he knowingly knows your innocent and the BOR also knows your innocent after XXXX stated on videotape that he was kicked and XXXX attorney confessed to the BOR off the record that she kicked XXXX.

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants-TJ. This quote is not directed toward the US government which I fully support 100%. This is toward the LAPD who can not monitor itself. The consent decree should not have been lifted, ever.

I know your TTP’s, (techniques, tactics, and procedures). Any threat assessments you generate will be useless. This is simple, I know your TTP’s and PPR’s. I will mitigate any of your attempts at preservation. ORM is my friend. I will mitigate all risks, threats and hazards. I assure you that Incident Command Posts will be target rich environments. KMA-367 license plate frames are great target indicators and make target selection even easier.

I will conduct DA operations to destroy, exploit and seize designated targets. If unsuccessful or unable to meet objectives in these initial small-scale offensive actions, I will reassess my BDA and re-attack until objectives are met. I have nothing to lose. My personal casualty means nothing. Just alike AAF’s, ACM’s, and AIF’s, you can not prevail against an enemy combatant who has no fear of death. An enemy who embraces death is a lose, lose situation for their enemy combatants.

Hopefully you analyst have done your homework. You are aware that I have always been the top shot, highest score, an expert in rifle qualifications in every unit I’ve been in. I will utilize every bit of small arms training, demolition, ordnance, and survival training I’ve been given.

Do you know why we are unsuccessful in asymmetrical and guerrilla warfare in CENTCOM theatre of operations? I’ll tell you. It’s not the inefficiency of our combatant commanders, planning, readiness or training of troops. Much like the Vietnam war, ACM, AAF, foreign fighters, Jihadist, and JAM have nothing to lose. They embrace death as it is a way of life. I simply don’t fear it. I am the walking exigent circumstance you created.

The Violence of action will be HIGH. I am the reason TAC alert was established. I will bring unconventional and asymmetrical warfare to those in LAPD uniform whether on or off duty. ISR is my strength and your weakness. You will now live the life of the prey. Your RD’s and homes away from work will be my AO and battle space. I will utilize every tool within INT collections that I learned from NMITC in Dam Neck. You have misjudged a sleeping giant. There is no conventional threat assessment for me. JAM, New Ba’ath party, 1920 rev BGE, ACM, AAF, AQAP, AQIM and AQIZ have nothing on me. Do not deploy airships or gunships. SA-7 Manpads will be waiting. As you know I also own Barrett .50′s so your APC are defunct and futile.

You better have all your officers radio/phone muster (code 1) on or off duty every hour, on the hour.
Do not attempt to shadow or conduct any type of ISR on me. I have the inventory listing of all UC vehicles at Piper Tech and the home addresses of any INT analyst at JRIC and detachment locations. My POA is always POI and always true. This will be a war of attrition and a Pyrrhic and Camdean Victory for myself. You may have the resources and manpower but you are reactive and predictable in your op plans and TTP’s. I have the strength and benefits of being unpredictable, unconventional, and unforgiving. Do not waste your time with briefs and tabletops.

(KTLA has removed the names of a number of officers to protect their families.)

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Switching it up

8:24pm. Home.

I give so much energy on my blog about my down days and on my good days I say one liners like "I had a good day" and that's it. I'm switching it up. There is a line in a poem I wrote a forever ago where I said "the bruises hurt worse than the roses smell good" and while sometimes that feels true, it doesn't have to be. I still get to say. I still get to choose how wonderful I am going to be in any moment. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop talking about days when I hurt, but it does mean I'm going to put much greater energy into the poetry and the nowness of my good days. No matter how boring they may seem to you. It's my party and I'll smile if I want to. Smile if I want to.

Enjoy your night. I intend to.

What will I do to make the world more awesome?

1. I will smile.
2. I will write poems.
3. I will tell stories.
4. I will rear my son with positive values.
5. I will love my family.
6. I will forgive.
7. I will be a blessing to others.
8. I will write stories.
9. I will recite poetry.
10. I will paint pictures.
11. I will love.
12. I will be kind.
13. I will honor my commitments.
14. I will rest when I need to.
15. I will listen.
16. I will be a good friend.
17. I will value your point of view.
18. I will leave you feeling respected.
19. I will be on time.
20. I will honor my relationships.
21. I will communicate.
22. I will walk.
23. I will dance.
24. I will see beauty.
25. I will speak up.
26. I will stand up.
27. I will nourish my body.
28. I will support the artists.
29. I will teach others.
30. I will read.
31. I will be considerate of your feelings.
32. I will lift you up.
33. I will lift myself up.
34. I will apologize.
35. I will respect the planet.
36. I will clean my home.
37. I will clean my body.
38. I will give my time to others.
39. I will travel.
40. I will visit others.
41. I will pray.
42. I will help others win.
43. I will support the dreams of others.
44. I will love.
45. I will remember good times.
46. I will be thankful.
47. I will be creative.
48. I will take pictures.
49. I will be patient.
50. I will be generous.
51. I will use my words for good.
52. I will use my power for good.
53. I will be a light.
54. I will be present.
55. I will be powerful.
56. I will be humble.
57. I will be beautiful.
58. I will keep growing.
59. I will encourage others.
60. I will share.
61. I will listen to kind words.
62. I will speak in the affirmative.
63. I will see others as myself.
64. I will honor all life.
65. I will feed others.
66. I will comfort others.
67. I will breathe.
68. I will accept love.
69. I will accept goodness.
70. I will congratulate others.
71. I will give hugs.
72. I will grow plants.
73. I will be calm.
74. I will be quiet.
75. I will be loud.
76. I will belong.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 38 - Talk to me

Say words
Make noise
This same is plastic in my lungs
Dance with me
We can siren between the beats our middles touch
Do you know me up close
If you dot to dot my freckles
There is a key to open up my happy
Did you know
Dogs keep barking
Rain keeps falling
The clouds keep coming close
All the sounds outside our space
Keep reminding me 
How loud our quiet
Roars

To Yesika Starr

Thank you so much for your words. All of your words. I'm getting lost in your blog. I am eating your poems up like rice and beans like bread and pudding. I get full and then I can't wait to read one more line. And then another. You are just delicious.

Yesikastarr@wordpress.com

Afternoon all

2:30pm. Work.

I'm loving this gray day. Feeling cool. Having thoughts of taking myself to a movie tonight. To see whatever. Work, as usual is going well. Forgot the book I'm reading at home. These are just my "I'm checking in words." Be easy with yourself today.

Love to you.

Good night / Are you playing or pointing?

12:08am. Home. So actually it's not really good night but good morning, but you know what I mean.

I had a good night tonight and good day today. Thank You, God. I went to the World Stage and had great conversations and heard some really good poetry. V. Kali was my favorite tonight. Love her words. Especially tonight, err last night (after midnight and all). Oh, before I went to hear poetry tonight I went to my neice's basketball game. They won like 55 to 5 or something like that. Seriously, I'm not off more than few points if I'm off at all. Big ups to the other team for staying in the game. I was really glad to see that. They were good sports. That's life. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. But you showed up and played is what counts. Go girls!

I've said this before and I'll say it again, I believe there are two kinds of people in the world: 1. Those who play the game and 2. Those who sit back and talk about the people who play the game. Of course I'm not talking about basketball here. I'm talking about life.

Dear guy in the stands ragging on the girls losing the game: What are you doing to put yourself out into the world that says "Hey world, this is me and this is what I love doing. Sometimes I will be great and other times I won't be, but I will always powerfully show up whether you laugh at me or love me"?

Go ahead, answer. I'll wait.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 37 - Wash

Poetry is dirty laundry
Washed and hung outside
Stains showing and forgiven or not
It is nappy kitchens and Sunday mornings
Poetry will not get you to church on time
But you will be ready for praise 
Before the deacon prays
Poetry done well will make a lie out of forgetting
It will tell the truth we refuse to hear from the devil
We are our brother's keepers
We are our children's historians
If not us then who
If not with these words then what
Poetry is scrubbing story
Into pages so blank 
With fingers so bloody
About a heart ready 
To release

Good day / My message to you

3:11pm. Work.

This is a beautiful day and I feel wonderfully even and clear.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend who told me that a friend of his was reading my blog because she has had similar "sinking" feelings and low and high moments and felt that something was wrong. This is what I have to say about that: Please see a doctor. Please please do not diagnose yourself based on anything I say or any of my experiences. What I have learned on this journey is that each person has her own unique experiences. I've read other people's stories about being bipolar and some I could totally relate to, some were pretty similar to mine and others I didn't see myself in at all. I have said a kagillion times on this blog that I AM NO DOCTOR. I only write my experiences. I know that I was greatly helped when I read other people's stories and that is one of the reasons I speak so openly about mine. Reading other stories helped me feel like there were others who felt like I did. It helped me give vocabulary to feelings I couldn't articulate before. It also gave me the courage I needed to seek professional help from a therapist and eventually doctors in a hospital.

There is such a negative stigma on mental illness. There are many different kinds of mental illnesses. Often when people think of mentally ill people, they think of people who cannot function without the constant assistance of someone else. That is not always the case. As I researched and read other stories I noticed many people who were very much like me. People who worked, had children, hobbies, responsibilities, active in their communities. Just, they, like me, have highs and lows they have to deal with. I have been coping with this imbalance since I was in middle school only I didn't know it. I knew I had weird feelings but none I could explain so I didn't say anything and brushed them under my emotional rug along with sex abuse and other junk I couldn't handle. I found ways to cope.

So, dear reader, there is no one mental illness and no one face to it. Again and a million times again, if you have found yourself in my stories and have feelings you can't explain and need help dealing with them, please seek assistance.

Love to you

Good night

12:58am. Home.

This is the hard part. This getting my hyper mind to quiet down and just go to sleep. Go to bed. Be still. Be quiet. I'm up! Up up! I could run around the block right now. If I could run around the block that is. So I doodle. I write. I edit poems. I make lists. I'm into lists. Lists of words, story ideas, things I want, names of characters. Lists.

I went to Da Poetry Lounge tonight. Loved it. Loved seeing old friends. Sekou was there tonight. So was Myda. And Mr. Foster too. Loved seeing all of them.

My brain is jumping around a million places. I'm in the living room on the couch writing these whatever words because I'm so incredibly antsy right now and don't want to disturb Love. I haven't taken anything to sleep in a long time but tonight I took two Benadryls. Why? Because I know I should be sleepy and my brain is flip floppy and I have to get up early in the morning.

I'm just gonna go to bed and force myself to shut the hell up. This entry is dumb. I'm gonna wake up in the morning and wonder what the fuck I was thinking about. I'm not even drunk. Haven't had a drink since Christmas. So there.

I'm gonna play spelling games to go to sleep. I hate games to go to sleep.

Good night all.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 36 - Just like me

I keep chasing you
For your words
For the sound of tenor
Leaving your lungs
I keep interrupting you
When you speak
I keep turning away
Avoiding your no

Dope.

6:50pm. Home.

I did have a good day. I did. I even skipped Starbucks on the way to work. I did crave something sweet but I am determined to stay away from the evil sugar and caffeine devils. I do believe the reports that they contribute to the swings. The swings, I like that. I was reading some super old entries of mine on the blog and it's funny the different names I have given the episodes of this illness. I didn't know what it was before so I use to call the episodes "the crazies." I think that was back in '09. After that it was "the sinking." That name stuck around a minue then it was "the spiral." After being hospitalized last year and diagnosed as bipolar, now it's just "an episode." Having a name for something makes things a little better. As much as I did not like being in the hospital, I am glad I got some things figured out. I needed to know that I wasn't just...crazy. That these ups and downs I've been coping with since middle school were really real. That make sense?

Anyway, I didn't intend to say any of that. Just wanted to say that I had a good day and that I honor myself for driving right on by the devil (Starbucks). Major confession: I did pull into the devil's big brother's home though...McDonald's. Not one, but two cheeseburgers and a small order of fries. Yes. I did. Judge yourselves.

But...I got up. Showed up for my life and I'm home now. I think I'm gonna head out to a poetry event tonight in about an hour. Go, Jaha! Yep. A while back I read an entry on Bassey's blog. She told stories about her journey living with this thing called bipolar. I like to call it a thing. Anyway, she said that there were days when it was so hard to do everything. I know those days. So on those days, she started giving herself props for everything she did, no matter how small. Like she said, "I brushed my teeth this morning, because I'm dope as fuck!" "I washed the dishes today because I'm dope as fuck!" It may sound strange but I so get it. If you know me or have followed this blog long enough you know I'm a stickler for my home being clean and orderly. Well, I washed the laundry on Sunday and the clothes are still at the foot of my bed. Totally not like me. Not so much today but surely yesterday I was so down I couldn't imagine folding clothes. That I made it to work and skipped the devil was a big deal. I'll fold the clothes now but really...I'm dope as fuck for typing this blog entry.

Good morning all

10:29am. Home.

Um. On second thought, for now, just...good morning. I opened my iPad to type this hey everybody let's get out and make it a great day type message, but I don't feel like doing that right now. I do feel like having a great day though. But right now, I'm tired. Like drained. Mentally and physically. I felt so low for much of yesterday, I'm just wiped out now. That's common. I welcome this feeling. Because it's not yesterday. Tired is ok. I have a few hours before I leave for work so I actually can get some rest. Ahhh rest. Have a great day. All of you. And me.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Dear xxxxxxx

Remember when you put SOMETHING in my food because you heard that it made girls really wild and freaky and you wanted to try it out on me and you confessed a week later and you thought I over reacted because "it didn't even work so what's the big deal?"?

That shit was so fucked up! I am so tired of men so whating our lives.

Never just words

When did it happen that the phrase "kill yourself" became en vogue? It is the worst! The second I hear that the joke immediately becomes not funny. Seriously, people don't need any help being pushed to the ledge. And really, you never know where someone is emotionally while you are just "kidding." Except "kill yourself" is nothing to kid about.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 35 - poem 2 - Non Fiction

When you talk 
I know that you are ill
I feel sorry for you
Because you don't know
The taste of 
Your own poison

A poem a day for 2013 - day 35 - Dear Jaha

There is good in the world
There are children home and safe with people who love them
They are appropriately touched and cared for
There are women who walk the streets at ease
Women who have never been raped
Women without pasts that chase them 
With shark teeth in their dreams
Women who are in relationships that nurture their growth and desires
There are police who protect black boys
There are

Everyone is not losing their homes
There are families with enough to eat
And covers to sleep
There are black men who are thankful for their lives
And the paths that led them to now
Men who lead and teach other men and boys
This is the world too

The press will handle the bad news today
They are reliable for that
Every day
Love is revolutionary
Stories about safe boys and girls
Live babies 
Happy women
Healthy men
This is the world too

There are days you wake to clear skies in your head
When getting out of bed is easy
There are mornings when you know
You are the best fruit you have ever tasted
There are plenty of days 
You laugh so easy 
It seems like sin

There is more to your skin than red
Some days are sky blue and pink
You are yellow 
And you are green

You are so green, Jaha

And there are days you are 
Blood and mud
But then how would you ever know orange
Without the blood

Blood is a part of it, Jaha
It just is
Your blood is river
But when the flowing is calm
You see colors so God

These days deserve your words too
These days 
These pink and yellow
These orange these green
These lilies these clovers
This is the world too

Good morning

5:31am. Home.

I felt so high the other day. It's how I feel when the fog clears. Like after the rain in LA when it's all beautiful and you can see the Hollywood sign from everywhere it seems. Like that. Then I was even higher the next day. Like I could do anything in the world. Of course I can fly! Of course I can write seven novels this year! Like why didn't I have this idea before? Whatever idea. Then from nowhere it seems, there is the fog to fight again. The clear days are becoming the moments. Not the regular. I hate this thing. I read an article that said the same thing a friend said to me about how I need to give up coffee, sugar and alcohol because of how it triggers the swings. I have given up alcohol. My last drink was a shot of Grey Goose on Christmas. I don't even have the desire for anything else. Now to get this vanilla chai latte and banana bread monkey off my back.

I'm still showing up though. Like, in my life. Going to work, laughing and sharing, writing and returning phone calls, just...just some days are harder to move. I keep judging myself. If I take a day to rest I keep telling myself I'm being weak. I keep telling myself that the rest is checking out. I know it's crazy. Rest is the first thing I always recommend when I hear other people's stories. "Rest, rest, and more rest. Oh, and don't judge yourself." That's me, giving advice and not taking it.

I am giving up the coffee and sugar. Whatever I have to do the stop these cycles. I am. I don't want medication again. I don't wanna live like that. I don't want hospital again. I feel myself though, checking out. Like not wanting to be involved in activities that used to make me happy. Mostly, I'm comfortable at home and that's pretty much it. I enjoy my son, Love, spending time with my family. I am also very careful these days about what I allow myself to take in visually. Sadly, I can no longer do two of my favorite shows: Criminal Minds and Law and Order SVU. I just can't see another dead body. I still write, but my writing is so dark these days. I have to force myself to not write about dead babies and missing children. Some days I win. Some days I don't. I'm a little over the top in my communication with my friends because I don't want them to think I'm in some episode. Even though I usually am. I'm having second thoughts about going to some group therapy for other people with bipolar. I was up for it just a few days ago but now I just think that their stories will depress me. I know that's messed up. Whatever. Maybe tomorrow I will feel differently.

I keep "protecting" my family. I never talk to them about this. Never. Except my uncle Therman. Sometimes I talk to him. But even then it's only when I'm over an episode. Never in the moment. Well, my aunt Val. I talk to her in the moment. Mostly because I know she knows what I'm talking about. Everyone else I just want to be strong for. I want them to count on me for that and not worry about me. I'm ok now. I mean, you know. I'm managing. It's about 6 in the morning now. I'm still in bed. My happy face is over there somewhere. Somewhere. I'll put it on when I get dressed.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 34 - Untitled. Because who could name it anyway?

Don't ask me why I write 
So many poems about 
Rape 
Dead babies 
Missing children
Ask your priests 
Principals
Pastors
Why they keep promoting 
Excusing rapists

Ask your gang members
Politicians 
Police
School bullies
Why our babies are dying
Ask them what they get per head
Go make deals 
With the devils you know

March door to door looking 
Back yards 
Under basement beds
Inside prison walls
For our children
Stolen from their homes

This is not nothing
This is a something
This is our biggest something

Our safety
Our children
Our lives

Saturday, February 2, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 33 - poem 3 - Hadiya Pendleton

I am so tired of writing poems 
About babies dying for nothing
I am ill in all ways 
Of babies dying
Because somebody fired a gun
Where people were just living their lives
Where children were just playing
Playing hide go seek or freeze tag
But freeze tag is just a game
Somebody unfreeze this baby
Before I lose my mind
Before the world loses its mind

This is no poem
This is my breath leaving my body
If there is another body
I will write another poem
For what good it does
That is my work
Those words won't make a difference either
I am falling out of hope

Who can write a poem 
About a fifteen year old girl
Hearing a gunshot
Running away
Losing her life

Who can write a poem 
About anything else

Sweet Hadiya
O your smile
Your eyes
Your perfect face

This is happening
This did happen
I have to keep 
Scribbling your name
With my bare dry fingers
To remind myself
That this is the world
My tears and out of breath self
Are just not enough

I don't understand, Hadiya
Hadiya
Hadiya
And so what if I did understand
Would my new knowledge stop 
Babies like you from dying
From being chased down by bullets 
And being tagged it

Seriously?

I read today on Facebook that black women like watching Scandal because we desire to be a white man's whore. Really? No.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 33 - poem 2 - Remembering Phoebe Prince

This is for Phoebe Prince
Who killed herself
Because she was bullied
In school
This heart ache is for her
Because her name should be remembered
Even if it hurts to remember
Bullied in school
By nine students
And everyone else who saw and did nothing
These bullied children are
Flopping fish making their way
Through halls
Trying to find air
To find space
That is theirs
Some teacher saw
Some custodian forgot
Some lunch person looked away
Somebody told
And Phoebe is still dead
We should all say her name
Over and over
Until her ghost
Haunts us to shame
We are murderers
That's who we are
We kill with our closed mouths
We stab with our turned heads
Our baby was bullied to death
Death at fifteen
By her own hands
To miss school
And be permanently excused

A poem a day for 2013 - day 33 - Dear poets

When we are ready
To call the foul on ourselves
In front of five hundred or ten
At the same volume we
Put her on blast
Call him to shame
Then we are almost ready
To see ourselves
As one

Friday, February 1, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 32 - Dear Jaha

Empty yourself of stories
Leave them all here to be
Split among the squirrels and lovers
Learners and teachers
Deer and peace keepers
To soak into the earth and grow
To nourish another
Write words that will serve the world
Even if the tales show you ugly
And some will
Even if you are the villain 
The liar
The thief
If they will set someone free
Then speak
What good is your prose of only glee
What was the fog for
If not to share the lesson
To learn 
To give lesson 
And grow

Quote of the day

"Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding about ourselves." Carl Jung

Good morning

5:25am. Home.

I am thankful this morning for peace. For loving and being loved. For my family and friends and the awesome support I have. I am thankful for feeling strong and healthy, physically, mentally and spiritually.