Black ass poems. Black ass stories. Black ass art. Black ass life. Black ass love. Black ass hate. Black ass parenting. Black ass depression. Black ass mania. And other stuff too.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Murmur
Please hold me in your prayers
Whisper my name into your potted plants
Walk by jasmine in the dirt and remember me
Rock me in the fold of your arms when day becomes dark
There are boogeymen under my bed
Bring a broom when you visit
I will be waiting
Whisper my name into your potted plants
Walk by jasmine in the dirt and remember me
Rock me in the fold of your arms when day becomes dark
There are boogeymen under my bed
Bring a broom when you visit
I will be waiting
Time - haiku sonnet poem
Wondering how we
Got here / So much distance now
Were we ever close
I don't believe the
Words of love you speak to me
Felt betrayed by kiss
Connected by blood
Maybe we will get past this
Discovering me
My feelings about
What I want for myself and
My feelings to you
They say time heals wounds
Hope that they are right
Got here / So much distance now
Were we ever close
I don't believe the
Words of love you speak to me
Felt betrayed by kiss
Connected by blood
Maybe we will get past this
Discovering me
My feelings about
What I want for myself and
My feelings to you
They say time heals wounds
Hope that they are right
Art show coming soon!
I will be showing and selling art on Saturday, August 24 from 12pm - 3pm at 28353 Willow Canyon Court, Santa Clarita, CA 91390. I hope you can come out. It's going to be a thing! There will be other Black women artists there also showing and selling. Come enjoy!
Developing
Besides wanting to be at peace mentally and free of the depression that Page lives with, she wants a family of her own. She wants a relationship with a man and a child. She wants this on her terms. Because of abusive relationships in the past she has major issues with trust and knows that she has to release those issues before she gets in a stable relationship.
Sleep. Family. Peace.
10:32am. Palmdale. I didn't sleep well last night. Hardly at all. Got some clarity on a family relationship that had me up. I don't want to say here because well, family. I don't really have high hopes that it will be cool again. Maybe cordial, but not a relationship I will ever feel safe in again. If I ever did. I'm not in a place where I want to talk. Or listen. Maybe that will change but right now this is how I feel. Thinking about going to The Stage tonight. For some reason I thought yesterday was Wednesday and that it was last night. I'm straight now though. I don't know if it's wise to go though. I spent money on art supplies yesterday and I'm low on gas. Also, I have to be in L.A. for work on Saturday. I don't know. I'll figure it out. Actually though, I get paid this weekend so maybe I will go down there. It might be an opportunity to sell some art, which I really need to do. I'm afraid sitting here might have me go into a tailspin. I've been doing so good managing the depression. I am so thankful to God that I haven't been ill and crippled like that lately. Well, not sure what I'm going to do today besides create something and try to love myself best I can. Also gonna try to have a good day today and I hope you have one too.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for waking up today
Thankful for family and friends
For art and poetry
For Uraeus
Love
Shelter
Food
Peace
Mental and physical health
Thankful for family and friends
For art and poetry
For Uraeus
Love
Shelter
Food
Peace
Mental and physical health
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Woosaa!
7:12pm. Palmdale. I'm trying like crazy to avoid my triggers. I'm still not on my meds and I'm not seeing a therapist. There's me and prayer and this blog and some family and some friends. There's God. Thank God there's always God. But when triggers pop into my text messages it's a problem. I'm praying it away as best as I can but FUCK.
Page (9)
It is about 2:00 on a sunny day. Rock has been fed and has gone to the bathroom and Page is sitting on her bed staring at her collection of crystals that she keeps on her dresser next to her journals. Before breakfast she wrote her latest entry in her journal and has selected a few pages she wants to share with Elizabeth on their next session coming up on Friday. She notices the mail from yesterday that she placed on her desk and remembers there was something from her father she forgot to open. She holds the envelope in her hand and looks at his beautiful penmanship and the doodles he has drawn on the envelope before she opens it. There are stick figures of a man and a little girl with long ponytails like she used to wear her hair. In another corner there is a man holding a kite and a girl pointing at the sky. There is a sun and a beach. His envelopes always look like art she could frame.
She is not ready to open the letter from Spike, her father. She is also going back and forth about whether or not she will tell Elizabeth about him. When she asked in their session Page shook her head and she was thankful that Elizabeth didn't push her. To talk about Spike she knew she would have to tell her that it's her fault that he is in prison. That a man is dead because of her. She wasn't ready to go into that with Elizabeth yet but she knew she would have to eventually. Page puts the envelope back down on her desk when she hears her phone ringing.
She is not ready to open the letter from Spike, her father. She is also going back and forth about whether or not she will tell Elizabeth about him. When she asked in their session Page shook her head and she was thankful that Elizabeth didn't push her. To talk about Spike she knew she would have to tell her that it's her fault that he is in prison. That a man is dead because of her. She wasn't ready to go into that with Elizabeth yet but she knew she would have to eventually. Page puts the envelope back down on her desk when she hears her phone ringing.
Developing
Page's father is in prison for life. He killed a minister at the church Page went to when she was growing up. He was repeatedly fondling and kissing Page. The minister's inappropriate behavior with Page started when she was 12 years old. She didn't say anything. When she was a junior in high school she was a cheerleader and the minister came to a football game where she was cheerleading. Her father was there too. Her father was an alcoholic. He saw the minister kiss her on the cheek and asked her who he was. Page has always been afraid to tell her father about the minister because she feared he would kill him. The Sunday after the football game Page was at church coming out of the women's restroom and saw the minister. She tried to walk past him but he grabbed her arm and forced her to kiss him. She told him that she had had enough and that she would tell her father if he ever came near her again and that he should be afraid of him. He laughed at her and when she turned to walk away from her he hit her on her behind. Page's parents were divorced and she lived with her mother and stepfather. Page drove to her father's apartment and told him what the minister had been doing. The father showed up drunk at church the next Sunday with the intention to scare the minister. Two men from the church held her father back from the minister. The minister held a smirky grin on his face throughout the interaction which infuriated the father. The father went to his truck parked across the street from the church. He was drinking in the truck. After church was released he saw the minister alone and walked to him to talk to him again. Father was drunk. He pushed the minister up against his car. When minister pushed him back her father shot and killed him. The police showed up quickly and father was arrested. Page was not at church because she was at a cheer camp with her team. Father knew she wouldn't be at church. Page's mother and stepfather were at church and witnessed the earlier incident with father and minister but not the shooting after church. Page carries a lot of guilt about her father being in prison and the death of the minister. Page and her father communicate often via letters.
Morning. Paint day. Love.
10:08am. Palmdale. For the most part I am feeling good this morning. I have a slight headache that I hope will go away soon after some food and water. I need to paint today. Gotta check my account to see if I have money for supplies. I want to get some new canvas panels from Hobby Lobby. That's my new spot. I wanted to go down to The Stage tonight because Smooth One is featuring and I want to hear him. Hopefully I have enough money for gas to get down there. If not, I'll be here creating something. I'm cool though. I plan to have a good day and I hope you have one too.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for waking up this morning
For love and peace and ease
For a good rest last night
I am thankful for the weather
For this heat and clear sky
For Uraeus
My friends and family
For my mental and physical health
For love
For love and peace and ease
For a good rest last night
I am thankful for the weather
For this heat and clear sky
For Uraeus
My friends and family
For my mental and physical health
For love
Monday, July 29, 2019
Art show coming soon!
Art has saved my life. Not like a painting has saved my life or a sketch, a story or a poem. But the process, the journey of art. My hands messy in paint has gotten me out of bed on days when the depression was too much. When the worries were too heavy. The waters too deep. Art has been a prayer. Been a song. Money from art has paid my rent. Has paid for my hotel room when I didn't have a place to call home. Has paid for food. For gas. For clothes. My brown fingers gripped tightly to a brush stroking up and down on a canvas has erased fear. Has parted the darkest of my mental clouds. Has settled my mind in ways only a moan from the bottom of my belly can tell. Please come and celebrate with me a showing and selling of my paintings on Saturday, August 24 from 12pm - 3pm at 28353 Willow Canyon Court, Santa Clarita, CA 91390. I hope to see you there.
Galaxy
My hair is not hair you run your run your fingers through
My hair is hair you plant your elbows
My body is not a body you visit
My body is a lake full of memories and other bodies
You might swim into flesh familiar
Play nice
You never know
Mine is not a name you shout and disturb the dew with your sound
It is a name you caress with your tongue barely touching your teeth
It is not a whisper
It is not a moan
My name is a holy swallow
A blessed drowning
My hand is not yours to hold at your ready
My hand is a calendar marking Mercury
I hang on to the moon with the tips of my nails
Start fires by rubbing my palms against the backs of my prayers
Come
Follow
There is a place I will take you before the sky is lurid
Before the sweet grass is damp
We can rest there
Sit by the water and stare there
I invite you to sleep easy on my thigh
And wake into a tomorrow possible only through my secrets
Hold on
I will show you
Me
My hair is hair you plant your elbows
My body is not a body you visit
My body is a lake full of memories and other bodies
You might swim into flesh familiar
Play nice
You never know
Mine is not a name you shout and disturb the dew with your sound
It is a name you caress with your tongue barely touching your teeth
It is not a whisper
It is not a moan
My name is a holy swallow
A blessed drowning
My hand is not yours to hold at your ready
My hand is a calendar marking Mercury
I hang on to the moon with the tips of my nails
Start fires by rubbing my palms against the backs of my prayers
Come
Follow
There is a place I will take you before the sky is lurid
Before the sweet grass is damp
We can rest there
Sit by the water and stare there
I invite you to sleep easy on my thigh
And wake into a tomorrow possible only through my secrets
Hold on
I will show you
Me
Page (8)
"Really, sis?'
"Yeah. Why you say it like that?" Page asks Vida while putting the second pan of macaroni and cheese in the stove.
"Because I'm just leery of those people. I mean, their lives are fucked up too. Yeah, they went to school but they don't know you. How are they somehow an expert on your life? Besides, you know black people don't be getting down like that. We handle our shit." Vida pauses. "But you know me girl. If you like it, I love it."
"Well, we've only had one session and I like her already. And really, it's not about her being an expert on my life. I like it better that she doesn't know me. Something about someone creating a space safe enough for you to just unload stuff you've been carrying around for a long time. And I got stuff."
"Yeah, we all got stuff. But that safe space is what your friends are for. You not safe with me? With your other friends? With your family? Or are we the problem? We the stuff you carrying around?" Vida has finished rolling a joint. As she finishes speaking she lights it and puts it to her lips.
"No it's not that. Not really. I just have a lot going on inside and I need a professional to talk to. I'm going crazy here. At least that's how I feel most days. I don't even have a fucking life. You know I love Rock but I can't even be out without worrying if I'm gone too long. Has he eaten? Did he fall trying to get to his wheelchair himself? Not to mention the days the fucking depression that cripples me and I can hardly move. You know my journey with this and the suicidal thoughts I can't control. I just need somebody to talk to before I do something I won't live to regret. Now pass me that joint." Page takes a puff and leans her head back as she inhales and slowly releases the smoke.
"I know. I get it. It's something you have to do for you. I just feel helpless. You know how I feel watching you cry and not be able to tell me what's wrong? How do you think I felt hearing you say you want to die? And now I feel even more helpless hearing you would rather pay a stranger to listen to what I've been begging you to say to me. It's a lot, P." Vida has shifted a few times in her seat. Crossing and uncrossing her legs. She gets a paper cup from the counter and goes to the soda fountain.
"Be on my side, Vida. I need you right now. I need to do this for me. It's not about you. The suicidal thoughts have gotten worse and it's hard talking to you about it because I know you love me. It would be hard for me to hear that coming from you. With this woman, I can just talk without thinking about how she feels. I don't think about her feelings at all. She doesn't love me. I'm a job to her. I don't have to take care of her. I just talk. Come on now, Vida?"
Vida has returned to her seat and is staring at her friend. "Girl, I'm sorry. I know it's not about me. I want you to feel safe and free and whole and all the other shit y'all be saying." They laugh.
"Also, I don't pay that much. They operate on a sliding scale and you know my situation." I love you, big head.
"Love you too."
"Yeah. Why you say it like that?" Page asks Vida while putting the second pan of macaroni and cheese in the stove.
"Because I'm just leery of those people. I mean, their lives are fucked up too. Yeah, they went to school but they don't know you. How are they somehow an expert on your life? Besides, you know black people don't be getting down like that. We handle our shit." Vida pauses. "But you know me girl. If you like it, I love it."
"Well, we've only had one session and I like her already. And really, it's not about her being an expert on my life. I like it better that she doesn't know me. Something about someone creating a space safe enough for you to just unload stuff you've been carrying around for a long time. And I got stuff."
"Yeah, we all got stuff. But that safe space is what your friends are for. You not safe with me? With your other friends? With your family? Or are we the problem? We the stuff you carrying around?" Vida has finished rolling a joint. As she finishes speaking she lights it and puts it to her lips.
"No it's not that. Not really. I just have a lot going on inside and I need a professional to talk to. I'm going crazy here. At least that's how I feel most days. I don't even have a fucking life. You know I love Rock but I can't even be out without worrying if I'm gone too long. Has he eaten? Did he fall trying to get to his wheelchair himself? Not to mention the days the fucking depression that cripples me and I can hardly move. You know my journey with this and the suicidal thoughts I can't control. I just need somebody to talk to before I do something I won't live to regret. Now pass me that joint." Page takes a puff and leans her head back as she inhales and slowly releases the smoke.
"I know. I get it. It's something you have to do for you. I just feel helpless. You know how I feel watching you cry and not be able to tell me what's wrong? How do you think I felt hearing you say you want to die? And now I feel even more helpless hearing you would rather pay a stranger to listen to what I've been begging you to say to me. It's a lot, P." Vida has shifted a few times in her seat. Crossing and uncrossing her legs. She gets a paper cup from the counter and goes to the soda fountain.
"Be on my side, Vida. I need you right now. I need to do this for me. It's not about you. The suicidal thoughts have gotten worse and it's hard talking to you about it because I know you love me. It would be hard for me to hear that coming from you. With this woman, I can just talk without thinking about how she feels. I don't think about her feelings at all. She doesn't love me. I'm a job to her. I don't have to take care of her. I just talk. Come on now, Vida?"
Vida has returned to her seat and is staring at her friend. "Girl, I'm sorry. I know it's not about me. I want you to feel safe and free and whole and all the other shit y'all be saying." They laugh.
"Also, I don't pay that much. They operate on a sliding scale and you know my situation." I love you, big head.
"Love you too."
Art show coming soon!
I have an art show coming up! It will be Saturday, August 24 from 12pm - 3pm at 28353 Willow Canyon Court, Santa Clarita, CA 91390. I hope you can make it!
Me - bio poem
Jaha
Creative, dedicated, talented
Daughter of Patricia, mother of Uraeus, sister of Roshann
Loves writing poems and painting pictures
Feels happy, feels angry, feels anxious
Fears the death of loved ones, fears not being sane, fears living in America
Composed stories, discovered her courage, found faith
Wanted to experience a cross country train ride, wanted to visit Ghana
Lives in California
Zainabu
Creative, dedicated, talented
Daughter of Patricia, mother of Uraeus, sister of Roshann
Loves writing poems and painting pictures
Feels happy, feels angry, feels anxious
Fears the death of loved ones, fears not being sane, fears living in America
Composed stories, discovered her courage, found faith
Wanted to experience a cross country train ride, wanted to visit Ghana
Lives in California
Zainabu
Developing
Page was married when she was 23 years old. The marriage lasted a year. She was drugged and raped one night by her husband. She had an abortion without telling him.
OITNB. Home. Creating.
3:40pm. Palmdale. I feel good today. I've been inside all day and don't have plans to leave soon. I said I was going to go walking this morning. Morning came and I changed plans to this evening. I might change plans to tomorrow. Thankfully I don't have to meet in Pasadena tomorrow. Mike called to let me know of the change this morning. I do enjoy meeting and writing with them but filling up my tank so often ain't a joke and right now I only have gas enough for one back and forth trip to L.A. Hopefully I sell some art soon. I don't get paid from work until Saturday so I'm gonna have to make this money and gas last. In other news, I just finished watching Orange is the new Black on Netflix and I enjoyed the final season. I ICE scenes were disturbing but then what people have to go through dealing with that situation is disturbing. I'm glad they didn't try to paint a happy spin on it. Well, one of the characters came out ok but she had to go through a lot. I have some writing to do and I'm gonna get to it. I hope you have a good day today.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for this day
For ease in my head
For family and friends
Uraeus
A day to create
Being inside
For ease in my head
For family and friends
Uraeus
A day to create
Being inside
Sunday, July 28, 2019
Abuse is abuse
If I'm taking care of an elder who is very disrespectful, doesn't do what I ask him to do, even tries to hit me, would it be ok if I hit him as a form of punishment and to get him to listen to me? Of course it wouldn't. So if this would be considered abuse to an elder, why isn't this abuse to a child?
I hope I'm wrong
I'm not holding on to any hope that this president will be impeached. There are too many folks who openly love him and more who secretly love him. He speaks what they feel.
Respect
I feel for my trans family who have family who constantly and purposely misname and misgender them. I wasn't born as Jaha and I have family who tell me "I can't call you Jaha." The difference with me though is that I never asked my family to stop calling me by my given name. Old friends, people I went to school with, family still call me that and I don't have a problem with it. But here's the thing. What if I did have a problem with it? Would my wish be respected? Probably not. And what if I didn't choose to identify as a woman? Would that choice be respected? I can almost say certainly not. So when our trans sisters and brothers come out to their families imagine what they have to deal with. We don't know how they could be triggered by being called by the name that they didn't choose. Or called a man or woman when they identify as the opposite / another. What does it hurt anyone to call their loved one by the loved one's preference? Don't ask people what their "real" names are. Why? Are you writing them a check? Are you booking them a flight? My name is whatever I tell you my name is. Maybe it's not a big deal to you but it's not about you. It's about someone you love. Let's think about the ways we push others away from us.
Mood. Better. Work.
9:12am. Long Beach. I'm still in Long Beach because I have to go to work today. Uraeus and I will leave either when I get off tonight or in the morning. I had a little episode yesterday. I was feeling bad about myself. Just everything. I was triggered by my reflection in the mirror. Triggered by poems and stories I am producing that I wasn't feeling good about. Just...stuff. Then there were just so many awful stories on social media. I felt myself sinking and decided to turn it off and get some sleep. I did have a good rest and I feel better today. Also, I had a good work day yesterday with my client and hopefully will have another good day with him today. I hope you have a good day also.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for waking up this morning
For seeing the signs of approaching depression and going to sleep
For not waking up in a depressive episode
For Uraeus
Work
Gas money
For seeing the signs of approaching depression and going to sleep
For not waking up in a depressive episode
For Uraeus
Work
Gas money
Saturday, July 27, 2019
Art show coming!
I have an art show coming up! It's going to be on Saturday, August 24 from 12pm - 3pm at 28353 Willow Canyon Court, Santa Clarita, CA 91390. I hope you can make it!
Morning. Supplies. Work.
7:58am. Long Beach. I'm feeling good this morning. I slept well. I need to get some new canvas panels. I want the larger ones from Hobby Lobby. I got some money from art I sold. Hopefully I'll sell more art. Trying to get ready for the art show I have coming up next month. I work today. Hoping I have a good day with my client. I hope you have a good day too.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for waking up this morning
Thankful the headache I had went away
Thankful for Uraeus
For selling art
For family and friends
Thankful the headache I had went away
Thankful for Uraeus
For selling art
For family and friends
Friday, July 26, 2019
The escape
He insisted I was cheating on him with everyone
Said I smiled too long at the gas man when I let him inside
Said why did I have to let him inside anyway
Said nothing when the gas bill was due
Held me
Tight
Close
Too close for comfort
Asked why we never talk about money
Like there was money enough to talk about
Said he'd be back later
Then later
Then there were too many laters
Then pupils dilated too many times
Then weight dropped
Cheeks sunk in
Then money missing from my purse
More accusations
More who was that on the phone
More it don't take that long to go to the mall
More
More
Then my car came up missing
Then he finally called
Then I lied and said I reported it stolen
Then the abortion
Threats
The conversation
The yelling
The kick out
The crack
The dealer
The neighbor he stole from
More threats
Then fear
Then worry
Then the move
Then
Then
Then doubt
Depression
More fear
Then time
More time
New love
New day
Then my mind
Thats returns sometimes
To then
Said I smiled too long at the gas man when I let him inside
Said why did I have to let him inside anyway
Said nothing when the gas bill was due
Held me
Tight
Close
Too close for comfort
Asked why we never talk about money
Like there was money enough to talk about
Said he'd be back later
Then later
Then there were too many laters
Then pupils dilated too many times
Then weight dropped
Cheeks sunk in
Then money missing from my purse
More accusations
More who was that on the phone
More it don't take that long to go to the mall
More
More
Then my car came up missing
Then he finally called
Then I lied and said I reported it stolen
Then the abortion
Threats
The conversation
The yelling
The kick out
The crack
The dealer
The neighbor he stole from
More threats
Then fear
Then worry
Then the move
Then
Then
Then doubt
Depression
More fear
Then time
More time
New love
New day
Then my mind
Thats returns sometimes
To then
Page (7)
"Hey, sis." Vida answers on the first ring.
"What's going on with you?" Page asks.
"Chillin' mostly. What's up?"
"Wanted to know if you'll take me and sit with me while I make some mac and cheese and a cobbler at the Inglewood store?"
"What's in it for me?"
Pages laughs. "Some mac and cheese and peach cobbler and my company."
"That's all I need."
"I'll be ready in a couple hours. Let me get some things straight here. Sorry for the last minute notice. Pete just called me."
"Girl, you know if I'm available I got you. Just call me when you're ready."
"Bet." Page and Vida hang up. They have been friends almost ten years. Vida is the friend Page usually calls when she goes in to make food and desserts for the bar b cue chain she sells to. She used to make the dishes at home and take them into the restaurants before they opened then Pete, the owner said she had to come in to make the food because they could be cited if the board of health found out she was cooking outside the store. Because Page doesn't drive she calls a friend to keep her company while she's there. Also there were a few times when Pete was there with her and told her one too many times how good she looked in her jeans. How he liked a woman who was fit but still had some meat on her. And then the hugs that lasted a few seconds too long. Page made a mental note not to be alone with him.
Page goes into Rock's room to help him into the bathroom. "Ok, brother dear let's get up."
"Wait till the commercial?" Rock is watching a marathon of his favorite show, Law & Order.
"You've seen this one a million times."
"Commercial!" Rock shouts.
"Ok, ok!" Page closes the door and goes back in her room. She returns to Vanessa's YouTube channel and watches her sit at her kitchen counter and listens to her talk about her day. Her depression. Her hospital visits. Page has never known anyone with lupus so much of what Vanessa says about the disease is news to her. The depression is another story. Page relates too well. She does what she can when she has the energy but when her dark mental clouds form, it's hard for her to get through the day. On some depressive days she gets up only to feed and get Rock to the bathroom. Then she stays in bed, usually crying. She doesn't know what she's crying about but the tears flow anyway. She doesn't cook. She barely does anything. And thoughts come. The suicidal ideations, the questions about why she was born anyway, the thoughts about how no one would miss her. Vanessa goes through that also, plus she's a good cook.
"Commercial or not, Rock, let's get this done." Rock is 6'2 and 235 pounds. Page is 5'5 and 120 pounds. He has limited use of his legs and needs her assistance getting from the bed to his wheelchair, then from the chair to the toilet. For the most part, Page has a good attitude about being his main caregiver but they both know it's wearing on her.
"What's going on with you?" Page asks.
"Chillin' mostly. What's up?"
"Wanted to know if you'll take me and sit with me while I make some mac and cheese and a cobbler at the Inglewood store?"
"What's in it for me?"
Pages laughs. "Some mac and cheese and peach cobbler and my company."
"That's all I need."
"I'll be ready in a couple hours. Let me get some things straight here. Sorry for the last minute notice. Pete just called me."
"Girl, you know if I'm available I got you. Just call me when you're ready."
"Bet." Page and Vida hang up. They have been friends almost ten years. Vida is the friend Page usually calls when she goes in to make food and desserts for the bar b cue chain she sells to. She used to make the dishes at home and take them into the restaurants before they opened then Pete, the owner said she had to come in to make the food because they could be cited if the board of health found out she was cooking outside the store. Because Page doesn't drive she calls a friend to keep her company while she's there. Also there were a few times when Pete was there with her and told her one too many times how good she looked in her jeans. How he liked a woman who was fit but still had some meat on her. And then the hugs that lasted a few seconds too long. Page made a mental note not to be alone with him.
Page goes into Rock's room to help him into the bathroom. "Ok, brother dear let's get up."
"Wait till the commercial?" Rock is watching a marathon of his favorite show, Law & Order.
"You've seen this one a million times."
"Commercial!" Rock shouts.
"Ok, ok!" Page closes the door and goes back in her room. She returns to Vanessa's YouTube channel and watches her sit at her kitchen counter and listens to her talk about her day. Her depression. Her hospital visits. Page has never known anyone with lupus so much of what Vanessa says about the disease is news to her. The depression is another story. Page relates too well. She does what she can when she has the energy but when her dark mental clouds form, it's hard for her to get through the day. On some depressive days she gets up only to feed and get Rock to the bathroom. Then she stays in bed, usually crying. She doesn't know what she's crying about but the tears flow anyway. She doesn't cook. She barely does anything. And thoughts come. The suicidal ideations, the questions about why she was born anyway, the thoughts about how no one would miss her. Vanessa goes through that also, plus she's a good cook.
"Commercial or not, Rock, let's get this done." Rock is 6'2 and 235 pounds. Page is 5'5 and 120 pounds. He has limited use of his legs and needs her assistance getting from the bed to his wheelchair, then from the chair to the toilet. For the most part, Page has a good attitude about being his main caregiver but they both know it's wearing on her.
How I chill - nonet poem
Relaxing now on the couch feet up
Walking through a flower garden
Swimming in a heated pool
Sitting on the beach sand
Loving myself whole
Meeting with friends
Holding hands
Staring
Sky
Walking through a flower garden
Swimming in a heated pool
Sitting on the beach sand
Loving myself whole
Meeting with friends
Holding hands
Staring
Sky
Art show coming up!
I'm having an art show on Saturday, August 24 from 12pm - 3pm at 28353 Willow Canyon Court, Santa Clarita, CA 91390. I hope you can make it!
Evening. Healing. Rest.
6:35pm. Long Beach. Just getting over a headache. Glad it's finally going away. I took Wil to the airport this morning and have been inside since. Now that this headache is going away I am going to try to get some rest. Some real rest. It's hot. But I can take that. I hope you had a good day today.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for this day
For getting Wil to the airport on time
For ease and peace in my head
For Uraeus
For a good rest today
For a headache lifting
For getting Wil to the airport on time
For ease and peace in my head
For Uraeus
For a good rest today
For a headache lifting
Thursday, July 25, 2019
I'll miss you Ricky!
I saw on Instagram that Richard Cryer passed away yesterday. That was a shock. I've known him over twenty years. We met in Leimert Park. He was a great cook and had the best smile. We used to bump into each other at the Goodwill on Crenshaw and Coliseum. I don't know what happened to him. I went to his Facebook page and all I saw was a bunch of posts about people expressing their sadness for him transitioning. I even called V and she didn't know. Damn.
Page (6)
Page hurries to put her key in the door because it's almost 3 and she's been gone since the morning. Rock will be hungry. I hope he has taken his meds. She thinks to herself. She is still on a high from her session, the walk on the beach, even the bus ride home.
"Page? Page?"
"Coming, Rock!" She walks into his room and puts her bag down on the chair next to his bed. "Why didn't you take your meds yet?"
"I was waiting for you."
"You don't have to wait for me to take your meds. They're right here on your tray in front of you." She opens the bottle and pours two pills into his hand. Then opens the water bottle and gives it to him. "Rock, you don't need me for everything. Some things you can do on your own." She notices the frustration in her voice and tries to change her tone. "I know you're hungry. What do you feel like eating?"
"I don't know. Surprise me."
Page goes to her room and closes the door. She opens her laptop sitting on her bed and goes to YouTube and pulls up a video from a chef who lives in Philadelphia. The chef's name is Venessa and she posts videos of food, herself cooking and sharing her story. She was recently diagnosed with lupus and talks about her journey with the disease and her love for cooking. Page spends twenty minutes on the site then goes into the kitchen to find something for Rock to eat. He doesn't eat much and Page has noticed that his appetite is getting less and less. "Tomato soup, garlic bread and a fruit cup it is. He eats like a four year old." Page is talking to herself as she warms up the soup. Within a very short time the soup is heated and she puts the food on a tray and takes it to Rock. She picks up her bag and takes it into her room. Before she gets to the door she hears her phone ringing in her bag.
"Hello?" She answers.
"Hey beautiful."
"What's up, Pete?"
"I was wondering if you could come and make a couple pans of macaroni and cheese for the Inglewood store."
"When? Tonight?"
"Yeah. Need a peach cobbler too. Last one went so fast..."
"Why are you just now telling me though? I told you, let me know ahead of time so I can plan it out."
"Come on, now. Can you do it?'
Page pauses. "I'll be there."
"Page? Page?"
"Coming, Rock!" She walks into his room and puts her bag down on the chair next to his bed. "Why didn't you take your meds yet?"
"I was waiting for you."
"You don't have to wait for me to take your meds. They're right here on your tray in front of you." She opens the bottle and pours two pills into his hand. Then opens the water bottle and gives it to him. "Rock, you don't need me for everything. Some things you can do on your own." She notices the frustration in her voice and tries to change her tone. "I know you're hungry. What do you feel like eating?"
"I don't know. Surprise me."
Page goes to her room and closes the door. She opens her laptop sitting on her bed and goes to YouTube and pulls up a video from a chef who lives in Philadelphia. The chef's name is Venessa and she posts videos of food, herself cooking and sharing her story. She was recently diagnosed with lupus and talks about her journey with the disease and her love for cooking. Page spends twenty minutes on the site then goes into the kitchen to find something for Rock to eat. He doesn't eat much and Page has noticed that his appetite is getting less and less. "Tomato soup, garlic bread and a fruit cup it is. He eats like a four year old." Page is talking to herself as she warms up the soup. Within a very short time the soup is heated and she puts the food on a tray and takes it to Rock. She picks up her bag and takes it into her room. Before she gets to the door she hears her phone ringing in her bag.
"Hello?" She answers.
"Hey beautiful."
"What's up, Pete?"
"I was wondering if you could come and make a couple pans of macaroni and cheese for the Inglewood store."
"When? Tonight?"
"Yeah. Need a peach cobbler too. Last one went so fast..."
"Why are you just now telling me though? I told you, let me know ahead of time so I can plan it out."
"Come on, now. Can you do it?'
Page pauses. "I'll be there."
Hands on
I black woman with my hands
I reach to the sun when I pray
I squeeze my body when I pray
My dreams come in color
I write everything down
I love to sing
I do not sing well
I walk like a black woman
You know how we walk
You know the way we stroll
Like the moon is under our feet
Look, Mama
Look at me moonwalk
Watch me get to the store and back in a dance
I make magic with these hands
Make rent happen
Make stories happen
Make love happen
My ancestors hold my hands
Massage my fingers and writs
I cook with these hands
Scramble eggs and bake biscuits
I write poems with these hands
Songs in the sand
Sonnets in the clouds
I am a miracle
These hands get messy with paint
With red and blue
Look at the green and yellow in my palms
Look at the lines in my palms
What do they tell you about me
About the way I love
About the way these hands hold
See how I black woman
See how I assemble a world
A meal
A baby
A movement
I reach to the sun when I pray
I squeeze my body when I pray
My dreams come in color
I write everything down
I love to sing
I do not sing well
I walk like a black woman
You know how we walk
You know the way we stroll
Like the moon is under our feet
Look, Mama
Look at me moonwalk
Watch me get to the store and back in a dance
I make magic with these hands
Make rent happen
Make stories happen
Make love happen
My ancestors hold my hands
Massage my fingers and writs
I cook with these hands
Scramble eggs and bake biscuits
I write poems with these hands
Songs in the sand
Sonnets in the clouds
I am a miracle
These hands get messy with paint
With red and blue
Look at the green and yellow in my palms
Look at the lines in my palms
What do they tell you about me
About the way I love
About the way these hands hold
See how I black woman
See how I assemble a world
A meal
A baby
A movement
Self love - abc poem
All of the ways I love myself
Because love is revolution and necessary
Care is
Daring to be
Easy with myself / daring to be my own
Friend / to feel
God in my veins
Hear the ocean at night
I love myself enough to
Just sit in the dark and wait for sun to shine on me and
Keep shining throughout the day
Loving
Myself is
Needing my
Own open arms
Positioned around my back
Quietly I
Reach and bend and
Stretch my limbs then bring my palms
Together
Using my breath I keep time / I am
Very careful to
Watch my body / I am a
Xenophile staring at art and jewelry / dreaming of travels from
Yesterday / today I love myself enough to call my name out loud
Zainabu
Because love is revolution and necessary
Care is
Daring to be
Easy with myself / daring to be my own
Friend / to feel
God in my veins
Hear the ocean at night
I love myself enough to
Just sit in the dark and wait for sun to shine on me and
Keep shining throughout the day
Loving
Myself is
Needing my
Own open arms
Positioned around my back
Quietly I
Reach and bend and
Stretch my limbs then bring my palms
Together
Using my breath I keep time / I am
Very careful to
Watch my body / I am a
Xenophile staring at art and jewelry / dreaming of travels from
Yesterday / today I love myself enough to call my name out loud
Zainabu
Art show coming!
I'm having an art show on Saturday, August 24 from 12pm - 3pm at 28353 Willow Canyon Court, Santa Clarita, CA 91390. I hope you can make it.
Show. Traffic. Home.
It's 6:01pm. Long Beach. I usually post in the morning but I woke up late and had to get going. We preformed some of show today for some students at UCLA. It went well. Traffic on the way back to LB had me sleepy. But I'm back now and have had a quick nap and some food. I need to write and paint today so I'm going to get to it. I hope you had a good day.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for waking up today
For having a good day and performance at UCLA with Breon and Mike
For family and friends
Uraeus
Protection
Love
Ease
For having a good day and performance at UCLA with Breon and Mike
For family and friends
Uraeus
Protection
Love
Ease
Mike holding court at UCLA
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Family. Friends. Day.
10:06am. Long Beach. Uraeus and I are at my sister's place today. We came down last night. Uraeus will be dog sitting for a few days. We're glad to be here spending time with family. Wil is in town today so I'm going to go and see her in L.A. Today is Charlene's 50th birthday so tonight she and I are going to go to a poetry event she wants to attend. She said she wanted to bring in her birthday surrounded by artists so that is what she will have. I brought a couple of canvases down to paint today so hopefully I get that in before I leave to see Wil. Gonna get started on this beautiful day. I hope you have a good one.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for waking up this morning
For a good rest last night
For spending time with my family in Long Beach
For Uraeus
Friends and family
Peace and ease
For a good rest last night
For spending time with my family in Long Beach
For Uraeus
Friends and family
Peace and ease
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Black. Library. Lessons.
I'm at the library and a senior black man is teaching a senior black woman how to read and she is talking to him about slavery and there are black and brown folks all around and I am feeling all kinds of good.
Morning. Headed to L.A. Easy.
6:53am. Palmdale. I have a writing meeting this morning in Pasadena at 10. I'm going to leave here in about fifteen minutes because I suspect the morning traffic will be pretty heavy. I have something to do tomorrow in L. A. and then a performance Thursday morning at UCLA so I probably won't make it back home until Thursday evening. That's ok. Things are going pretty well. Work is the same and I'm hustling art. I'm cool. I'll check back in later. Enjoy your day.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for this beautiful day
For love and peace
For friends and family
Uraeus
For work
Art
Words
Protection
Grace
For love and peace
For friends and family
Uraeus
For work
Art
Words
Protection
Grace
Monday, July 22, 2019
Returning - chant poem
She stands at the shore staring off into the water
Get home, my love. Get home.
She feels small under such a great big sky
Get home, my love. Get home.
Even across the country she can hear her mother's cry in the wind
Get home, my love. Get home.
Sand between her toes she bends to see the shell
Get home, my love. Get home.
One hour left then vacation will end
Get home, my love. Get home.
On a plane and then back into the city
Get home, my love. Get home.
Smog in the air and sharing a cab
Get home, my love. Get home.
She dials her phone it answered after one ring
Get home, my love. Get home.
Get home, my love. Get home.
She feels small under such a great big sky
Get home, my love. Get home.
Even across the country she can hear her mother's cry in the wind
Get home, my love. Get home.
Sand between her toes she bends to see the shell
Get home, my love. Get home.
One hour left then vacation will end
Get home, my love. Get home.
On a plane and then back into the city
Get home, my love. Get home.
Smog in the air and sharing a cab
Get home, my love. Get home.
She dials her phone it answered after one ring
Get home, my love. Get home.
Talk
Tell me about a dog tied up too long in a neighbor's yard
No food no water
Tell me about a kicked cat
A killed raccoon
Your blood already boiling
Tell me about a baby snatched from his mother's arms
A girl ripped from her father's legs
Tell me about human beings in cages
Drinking water from toilets
Sleeping on floors with no blankets
Tell me why cages are the only spaces in America where white bodies are not allowed
Let me see a white girl detained for hours at an airport
What does a white American know about barbed wires
About thirsty babies and kicked over water jugs
Tell me about the ways white folks are othered are illegals are aliens just based on skin
Tell me how humanity matters less when melanin kicks in
Tell me
Tell me
Tell me
I want to know
I want to know the stories they tell their children when they get home
How Mommy had a long day
See the scratch on Daddy's arm
A Mexican put up a fight
Said he was a citizen
Said he was born right here in L.A. in San Diego in Texas
You now how they lie
You know they are no good
You know they grow up to be gang members and drug dealers
You know
You know
Tell me
Tell me
Tell me how pro life you are
Tell me how many scriptures you know now
Tell me what your Jesus would do
Tell me about the whales
About the poor fish in the sea
About the bees
About the birds that are extinct
Fill up this bucket with your tears
Tell me about a dog tied up too long in a neighbor's yard
Tell me about a kicked cat
Tell me about your blood already boiling
No food no water
Tell me about a kicked cat
A killed raccoon
Your blood already boiling
Tell me about a baby snatched from his mother's arms
A girl ripped from her father's legs
Tell me about human beings in cages
Drinking water from toilets
Sleeping on floors with no blankets
Tell me why cages are the only spaces in America where white bodies are not allowed
Let me see a white girl detained for hours at an airport
What does a white American know about barbed wires
About thirsty babies and kicked over water jugs
Tell me about the ways white folks are othered are illegals are aliens just based on skin
Tell me how humanity matters less when melanin kicks in
Tell me
Tell me
Tell me
I want to know
I want to know the stories they tell their children when they get home
How Mommy had a long day
See the scratch on Daddy's arm
A Mexican put up a fight
Said he was a citizen
Said he was born right here in L.A. in San Diego in Texas
You now how they lie
You know they are no good
You know they grow up to be gang members and drug dealers
You know
You know
Tell me
Tell me
Tell me how pro life you are
Tell me how many scriptures you know now
Tell me what your Jesus would do
Tell me about the whales
About the poor fish in the sea
About the bees
About the birds that are extinct
Fill up this bucket with your tears
Tell me about a dog tied up too long in a neighbor's yard
Tell me about a kicked cat
Tell me about your blood already boiling
Page (5)
After her therapy session ended in Santa Monica, Page goes to the beach to walk along the boardwalk and have lunch. She sits at a table in a lovely restaurant and peruses the menu for its vegan selections. She is sitting at a table close to the boardwalk and can see the vendors selling art. Some selling sage and oils. There is also a woman singing in front of a microphone. The woman is thin and brown wearing a long beautiful gold dress. She is singing "I wanna dance with somebody" by Whitney Houston and she sounds pretty good. As Page is getting into the performance the waiter approaches.
"Hello there. Are you ready to order?"
"Um...yes, I think so. Your vegan menu looks good. I'll have the vegan sausage and scrambled egg whites with rye toast and orange juice. I'm feeling like breakfast today." Page smiles at the waiter and notices his soft face and green eyes.
"Sure thing."
A crowd has started to form around the woman and she begins another song. Whitney Houston again. This time it's "I believe the children are our future." Page hums along with the woman and allows her mind to go back to her therapy session. As this was her first time going to therapy she didn't know what to expect. She liked Elizabeth. Her red lipstick and perfect eyeshadow. Her rings and necklaces. How she spoke softly and listened so actively while Page spoke. Page was surprised at how much she allowed herself to say, especially to someone she didn't even know. Mostly she talked about her being the main caregiver to her brother. She told her about the incident. How Rock was in Leimert Park protesting with some other people and the cops showed up. They had their batons out and were swinging at everyone they could reach. One cop grabbed Rock by the shirt and threw him down on the ground. He was beat so badly he was almost killed. Suffered permanent damage to his back from being kicked and stomped on. He has head injuries. Can't walk. Has frequent migraines. And so many other physical injuries, not to mention his mental state. He was so messed up after that night his family didn't think he would come out of it alive. When he did, Rock sued the police department for damages and actually won. Page was living in a single apartment in Long Beach but moved into the house Rock was renting in Inglewood to help him. It's been three years. Fifty minutes flew by before Page knew it. She and Elizabeth agreed to see each other again in two weeks. Elizabeth suggested that Page keep a journal and bring it in with her. Page let her know she was already keeping a journal and agreed to bring it in. Elizabeth walked her back down the hallway and when they reached the waiting room Page almost wanted to give her a hug. As she stood outside under the perfect California blue sky she knew she wasn't ready to go home. She decided to hit the beach.
"Hello there. Are you ready to order?"
"Um...yes, I think so. Your vegan menu looks good. I'll have the vegan sausage and scrambled egg whites with rye toast and orange juice. I'm feeling like breakfast today." Page smiles at the waiter and notices his soft face and green eyes.
"Sure thing."
A crowd has started to form around the woman and she begins another song. Whitney Houston again. This time it's "I believe the children are our future." Page hums along with the woman and allows her mind to go back to her therapy session. As this was her first time going to therapy she didn't know what to expect. She liked Elizabeth. Her red lipstick and perfect eyeshadow. Her rings and necklaces. How she spoke softly and listened so actively while Page spoke. Page was surprised at how much she allowed herself to say, especially to someone she didn't even know. Mostly she talked about her being the main caregiver to her brother. She told her about the incident. How Rock was in Leimert Park protesting with some other people and the cops showed up. They had their batons out and were swinging at everyone they could reach. One cop grabbed Rock by the shirt and threw him down on the ground. He was beat so badly he was almost killed. Suffered permanent damage to his back from being kicked and stomped on. He has head injuries. Can't walk. Has frequent migraines. And so many other physical injuries, not to mention his mental state. He was so messed up after that night his family didn't think he would come out of it alive. When he did, Rock sued the police department for damages and actually won. Page was living in a single apartment in Long Beach but moved into the house Rock was renting in Inglewood to help him. It's been three years. Fifty minutes flew by before Page knew it. She and Elizabeth agreed to see each other again in two weeks. Elizabeth suggested that Page keep a journal and bring it in with her. Page let her know she was already keeping a journal and agreed to bring it in. Elizabeth walked her back down the hallway and when they reached the waiting room Page almost wanted to give her a hug. As she stood outside under the perfect California blue sky she knew she wasn't ready to go home. She decided to hit the beach.
Short. Simple. Sweet.
7:37am. Palmdale. I don't have much to say right now. But I am well. I'll be home for most if not all of the day. I have some writing and painting to do. I'll be in L.A. from tomorrow until probably Friday. I hope you have a great day today.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for this quiet and peaceful morning
For a good rest last night
An easy and safe ride home last night
For love
Happiness
Uraeus
Family and friends
For a good rest last night
An easy and safe ride home last night
For love
Happiness
Uraeus
Family and friends
Sunday, July 21, 2019
Black dreams - tanka poem
To be safe while black
To be free to roam about
To breathe easily
To live a successful life
This is what we deserve here
To be free to roam about
To breathe easily
To live a successful life
This is what we deserve here
Art show. L. A. Work.
10:15am. Los Angeles. I spent the night at George and Alisha's because I worked in Inglewood yesterday and have to work there today. Work yesterday was easy and I'm hoping for another easy day. I posted on Facebook yesterday that I was looking for a place to have an art show next month and a friend of Wil's who lives in Valencia commented that I could have it at her house. I was there years ago to see Wil. That was a blessing. We are working out the details now. Gotta get some more paintings done. I need to sell some art today because I'm running low on gas money and money period. Money will come. I have enough gas to get back to Palmdale tonight and I don't have to be back in the city until Tuesday. I'll sell some work by then. I'm going to get out of here and go to work. Have a good day today.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for this day
For a good rest last night
For George and Alisha
For friends and family
Uraeus
Peace and ease
For work today
For a good rest last night
For George and Alisha
For friends and family
Uraeus
Peace and ease
For work today
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Morning. Tasha. Work.
9:38am. Palmdale. I'm feeling good this morning. I work this evening in Inglewood and want to get some painting done before I go. I bought some art supplies yesterday from Hobby Lobby. I was headed to Michael's but passed it and went to Hobby instead. I like that place better because they have more of a variety of canvas panels I like. Also, I got a good sale.
Last night Tasha came over and I'm so glad she did. Tasha is Tonya's sister. We are first cousins. Our birthdays are a month apart and we look like twins. Right down to the freckles. I feel like I'm looking at myself when I look at her. We have always been close. We talked, ate and drank until about midnight when she went home. She lives close by. I am so blessed to be around my people.
I am going to start painting now and getting ready for this work weekend. I hope you have a great day.
Love yourselves.
Last night Tasha came over and I'm so glad she did. Tasha is Tonya's sister. We are first cousins. Our birthdays are a month apart and we look like twins. Right down to the freckles. I feel like I'm looking at myself when I look at her. We have always been close. We talked, ate and drank until about midnight when she went home. She lives close by. I am so blessed to be around my people.
I am going to start painting now and getting ready for this work weekend. I hope you have a great day.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for this day
For family and friends
For Uraeus
Peace in my head
For work
Car
Shelter
Food
Love
For family and friends
For Uraeus
Peace in my head
For work
Car
Shelter
Food
Love
Page (4)
There is one other woman in the waiting room. She and Page sit opposite each other filling out forms. Page wonders why sexual orientation is one of the questions but writes in heterosexual anyway. Finally a Mexican woman who looks to be in her early forties opens the door. She has a wide pleasant face perfectly made up and is wearing beautiful, cultural jewelry. Pages looks at her and thinks of Frida Kahlo.
"Page?"
"Right here." She gets up and walks to the door where the woman is standing.
"Hi. I'm Elizabeth. Come back with me, please." Page follows her down a beige hallway. As they pass an open door she notices a bookcase filled with children's games, books and toys. Elizabeth stands to the side of the next door so that Page may enter first. There are two big comfortable chairs, a lamp and a small desk. "Here we are." Elizabeth says with a smile.
"Thank you." As they sit Page hands her the papers she filled out in the waiting room and Elizabeth quickly glances over them then puts them in a closed folder on the desk. Page notices that Elizabeth pauses and takes a moment to breathe which encourages her to do the same.
"So." Elizabeth begins.
"Page?"
"Right here." She gets up and walks to the door where the woman is standing.
"Hi. I'm Elizabeth. Come back with me, please." Page follows her down a beige hallway. As they pass an open door she notices a bookcase filled with children's games, books and toys. Elizabeth stands to the side of the next door so that Page may enter first. There are two big comfortable chairs, a lamp and a small desk. "Here we are." Elizabeth says with a smile.
"Thank you." As they sit Page hands her the papers she filled out in the waiting room and Elizabeth quickly glances over them then puts them in a closed folder on the desk. Page notices that Elizabeth pauses and takes a moment to breathe which encourages her to do the same.
"So." Elizabeth begins.
Friday, July 19, 2019
Reflection
I remember when I thought I was dying
When I thought my sadness was going to kill me
When I called my case worker at the mental health facility
When I cried and told him that nothing mattered and that
I would just find a bridge to jump off of and then I hung up the phone
I remember he never called me back
I wonder if he thinks I am dead
Wonder if he is happy his case load is one black body lighter
Wonder why I wasn't worth a call back
Wonder what he thinks they did with my body
I remember I thought I was in love
I remember I knew it wasn't love
I remember a body next to me was better than no body next to me
I know now that I am the body that matters
I remember when my Aunt Patricia got married
I cried at her wedding
How beautiful she was in her dress
I remember I knew that their love would last
They are still married
He still says I love you
I know that he means it
I remember when I had my son
The long hours of labor
How I never dialated
Remember the nurse telling me I would have to have a c section
Remember when they took his brown body out of my brown body
I don't know why certain memories come to me
I don't know what they mean or how they are related
Maybe it doesn't matter
Maybe they come to remind me that I have a whole life
Where good things happen and bad things happen
Maybe they come to tell me that I happened
That I am here
Creating more memories
When I thought my sadness was going to kill me
When I called my case worker at the mental health facility
When I cried and told him that nothing mattered and that
I would just find a bridge to jump off of and then I hung up the phone
I remember he never called me back
I wonder if he thinks I am dead
Wonder if he is happy his case load is one black body lighter
Wonder why I wasn't worth a call back
Wonder what he thinks they did with my body
I remember I thought I was in love
I remember I knew it wasn't love
I remember a body next to me was better than no body next to me
I know now that I am the body that matters
I remember when my Aunt Patricia got married
I cried at her wedding
How beautiful she was in her dress
I remember I knew that their love would last
They are still married
He still says I love you
I know that he means it
I remember when I had my son
The long hours of labor
How I never dialated
Remember the nurse telling me I would have to have a c section
Remember when they took his brown body out of my brown body
I don't know why certain memories come to me
I don't know what they mean or how they are related
Maybe it doesn't matter
Maybe they come to remind me that I have a whole life
Where good things happen and bad things happen
Maybe they come to tell me that I happened
That I am here
Creating more memories
Anger - emotion poem
Anger
It is the color of the mushy orange speckles in vomit
It happens when a white cop handcuffs a black man/woman
It sounds like thunder crashing in the middle of the day
And smells like chitterlings boiling
Anger
It is the color of the mushy orange speckles in vomit
It happens when a white cop handcuffs a black man/woman
It sounds like thunder crashing in the middle of the day
And smells like chitterlings boiling
Anger
Morning. Planning. Love.
7:47am. Palmdale. I'm feeling good this morning. I have an early phone meeting so I'm up preparing for that. I want to get some creative things done today before I head back down to L.A. tomorrow for work. Plan to pick up some art supplies and paint. Stuff. Just stuff. I plan to have a good day today. I hope you do too.
Love yourselves.
Love yourselves.
Gratitude
I am thankful for waking up to a beautiful morning
For a great show last night
For friends and family
Love and peace and ease
For selling art
For poetry
Uraeus
Tonya
For shelter
For seeing Laura last night
For a safe drive home
For a great show last night
For friends and family
Love and peace and ease
For selling art
For poetry
Uraeus
Tonya
For shelter
For seeing Laura last night
For a safe drive home
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