Curl up and envelope yourself in the warmth of this lyrical quilt, stitched from swathes of published poems, spoken word pieces and unpublished musings.
Tortured twists and Bewildering turns,
This Maze of Destiny, like fire does burn.
Unforeseen blessings, Moments of joy,
Beauty and Despair…the pawns of Her ploy?
Destiny is Character, is God, is Chance?
The Ending encoded or happenstance?
Struggling to find the Way,
Our Path remains obtuse,
Moral compass of limited use.
Choice is obscure,
We walk by Faith, by Love, by Fear.
Lessons to learn in this Grand Design.
History to walk,
Mountains to climb,
A Universal Puzzle of Space and Time.
The Path lit by confusion,
Frustrated Sojourners led by Illusion.
Blue Prints obscured in Ancient Code.
Hearts try to translate,
Minds flex as we fuss,
Intuition implores us to trust.
Holy Books preach,
Religions map out a route,
But the Folly of Men enshrouds us in Doubt.
Our Spirit as Guide, we trek through the pain,
Abandoning Ignorance, as Wisdom we gain.
The Final Destination many say they can see:
Destined for Bondage or Saved and Set Free?
I know for certain I’ve been here before,
On a night like tonight, on the very first floor.
Around the next corner, will I encounter the Door?
The most puzzling enigma we are meant to explore:
Only after our Exit from the Maze can its meaning be accounted for.
So, we continue trudging dimly through Knowledge and Grace,
By Trial and Error, we create a Map to the Divine Resting Place.
But the irony of Destiny, is everyone reaches the Final Race.
No matter how cruel or loving their Pace.
For as we all entered into this Maze,
We will all exit one day–to our Maker to face.
Love is in the Details
Love is in the details—like grand writing, or God.
Love always Prevails
When you refuse to surrender, how can you fail?
Love holds tight, but also lets go
It yearns to protect, but wants you to grow
Love gives for pleasure, not for show
It’s shown in those ways you must pay attention to know
It’s pure and hard like second day snow
When he calls you by the name only both of you share
Looks deep in your eyes and can’t help but stare
You know Love is there
Calls to ask if you made it, just cause he cares
When he feels vulnerable, doesn’t put on airs
Would rather walk away then cause you more tears
Love isn’t always steady and though it may wane
With care and attention, it can be regained
Though sometimes weak, it will bend but won’t break
For Love, like you and me, sometimes makes a mistake
We can learn of its beauty through Love’s heartbreak
If we see the value of Love before it’s too late
Love is Truth, so it can’t be faked
Love is free, you don’t have to give to take
There is nothing so intense as lost Love’s ache
When he shows up in the morning with coffee your way
If he comes to the door with your favorite wine
Takes note of your order to know for next time
It’s the care taken in the little things that make Love sublime
If you missed it the first time, I’ll repeat the line:
Love is in the details
Passion flames fiercely, but its inferno consumes
It feeds on itself til it emits deadly fumes
Chemistry is pure electricity,
Nerve endings charged,
hormones spark luscious felicity
complicated feelings dissolve into simplicity
but in reality, it’s a chemical complicity
Not a solid basis for a blissful domesticity
Love is the development of countless subtle gestures
You might not take notice at first
But then he repeats your favorite line,
You think, “ I guess he was listening the entire time”
He goes for your bag, your box, or your door
You could do it yourself, like you’ve always done before
But suddenly you realize it’s a pleasure, not seen as a chore
It thrills him to lend a strong hand to the one he adores
Time and time again he always makes sure
To offer you help you don’t even ask for
By being there through these silent times
Love builds its rapport
I don’t mean to sound like a bore,
I know I’ve already said it twice before,
But it’s the truth, so I’ll say it once more:
Love is in the details.
There’s a Voice
As you walk, an urban symphony plays
A sound track to your distressed days
Discouraged melodies with cognitive dissonance dance
Preconceived notions and a judgmental glance
Negative thoughts hypnotize you into a trance.
Why do those that know the least, tend to talk the most?
Those that lack confidence, be the first to brag and boast?
As if counting your sins somehow makes them a saint,
As if calling you less makes them great.
But I’ll tell you a secret that many don’t want you to know
The way to make your freedom and your success grow
Be the master of your own thoughts, your own mind, your own soul and your own time
Controlling your own mind is the key to being self directed, self empowered, self confident and free
You see… there’s a Song that lives deep inside,
An inspiring Sonata orchestrated from On High
If you kill the noise and silence the critics
I promise you too will hear it.
Springing from the Source that binds us in Love
Singing: just the way you are, you are good enough
So Kill the noise and silence the critics, connect to the Higher Spirit,
Can you feel it?
The Life Force is pulsing, playing a concert of Power
Energy invigorates and the voice grows louder
You speak in tongues of laughter and love.
Endlessly Growing, It’s a new way of knowing,
Higher than our limited human mind—
Infinitely compassionate and kind.
It tells the Truth, so pay their dramas no mind.
Silence the world and hear it sing the wisdom of all Creation
Knowledge so vast, it’s beyond linguistic interpretation
If you want to know your mission,
Just SHUT UP and Listen
It’s really that simple to channel your intuition
There’s a voice,
And when you‘re silent, you can hear it.
The distractions of the world will tell you to fear it.
But… Life’s a game there’s a million ways to play,
Follow their rules or you’ll lose is what they’ll say,
But kill the noise, and Go your own way
If you want answers, Sit down and pray
Believe in yourself, Step out on Faith
Knowing you own the best things in life without having to pay:
I own my heart and my mind, my soul and my time.
There’s a voice inside and the more you listen
The more you’ll hear it,
Then you’ll start to feel
Until you’re talking to God with every word you speak
It’s a simple but divine technique
There’s a voice
And to listen is your choice
So silence the world and kill the noise.
Be yourself, with grace and poise.
There’s a Voice
And to use it is your choice,
So speak your Truth
Even if they think you rude
Walk and Talk your Truth
Even when they think you uncouth.
There’s a voice
and it sings the ancient song of you
And that’s more than enough, it’s your Destiny
A celebration of everything you were created and meant to be.
How Boring Would it Be?
I used to be an idealist,
then I went out on my own.
Now I’m left with a list-of-ideals.
Aside from this very, real list,
I’m a realist.
I’m into realism, because I real-ize, after being in the real world:
You can’t get away from the real “isms”
Then you have the “isms” the academics don’t study,
but in re-ality, are real “isms”:
All this prejudgment
prejudices me against judgement.
Can’t we look and see; without having to disagree?
How about we agree, not to decree, how other people should be?
If it’s different—don’t fear it.
You’ll never come to appreciate what you fear.
How boring would it be…
If men were always in charge?
If rich people always made the rules,
and poor people always did the work?
If skinnier was always sexier?
If you could always foretell the quality of the gifts inside, just by looking at the box?
If we always believed everything we saw on TV,
agreed with everything we read in books?
If every time we opened our mouths, someone else’s words came out?
If ALWAYS, in ALL WAYS, things were the same?
See, the problem is:
If you always look out the window of your exact same eyes,
—you’ll always see the exact same view.
How boring would that be?
What if you could be something more divine, than
always being most important?
Something more sublime
than always being right?
What if you could be…
Word By Word
A struggle I fight in various ways
To move, to grow, keep on the go
Maintain the flow
Money, Energy, Inspiration
Stay ahead, aheart, of the hateration
Obstacles don’t rest,
So neither will I
Avert the pressures-mark the spies
By spying the marks, talking their jive,
Trying to survive by messing with my vibe
Like I ain’t putting in overtime on overdrive
Just to keep my dream alive
To thrive on the inside
To elevate my whole tribe
So there’ll be no more
Working so hard—just to be poor
To get a foot in da door
Spreading blood, sweat and fears, like a capitalist whore
But I fear nothing-no more
If the only thing to fear is fear itself
I t stopped being useful—I put it on the shelf
I’ve paid my dues, gave of myself,
Where’s the recognition?
Scratch that—Where’s the wealth?
But having the wisdom, the education doesn’t mean they’ll give you your turn-
I’ve got brains, brawn and talent to burn
Yet they only want to focus on the face,
Only wanna see a woman in lace,
Use her up till there is no trace–
Of what a woman should be
I tell ‘em to back on up, cuz that’s not me
I have no interest in pleasing you to get what I need
Have no problem putting in the work it takes to be free,
I don’t owe you shit, so stop hawkin’ me
My pen is mightier than a sword
And I’ll use it to write my future—Word by Word
And one day the book of Sara will read,
“It was with an open mind, an open heart she undertook every deed,
Even with the use of violence
Her voice they could not silence-
So her soul they couldn’t corrupt
For she always stayed True—
And her Consciousness did rise til her last day was through”
In a world of runners—
finely tuned calves, tense hamstrings,
lungs of steel endurance—
I am a mermaid.
I swim below the waters’ surface,
which once endeavored to submerge me until I could no longer breathe.
I grew a mermaid’s fin to escape the undercurrent
that refused to release it’s steel claw grasp.
I am a survivor.
Underneath, in my salty, hidden city ofAtlantis,
I am a lone citizen.
The lowliest of servants, most exalted of great thinkers—
I am everyone.
I long to run the races of life,
use my strong, horses’ legs to travel the prolific paths which circle and link worlds above.
But I am lost at sea;
a prisoner of its dark, uncharted depths.
This unyielding sea once fought to drown me,
but I grew fins.
I became a mermaid.
I am a survivor
For My Hero
You were born “Saleen”, such a beautiful name.
I don’t tell my brother named you after his favorite Mustang.
Holding you changed me inside.
Claiming you as my niece swells me with pride.
Hearing you say “My auntie” is a luscious high.
The way you look at me—those adoring eyes,
I swear, your little hug, so mighty, it would break the fiercest tide.
I remember being in college: young and wild.
A sabor picante: never mild.
Bursting with the unbridled curiousity of a child
I devoured life.
Spoke my mind.
With brio, sought out all the ideas I could find.
Was sure I knew it all,
with a mind like mine, I’d never fall.
Felt so strong and 10 feet tall
Loud and proud, quick to verbally brawl
Thought if your theory opposed mine
—your brain—like your experience— was small.
Then God sent me wisdom
in the form of a living doll.
She breathed, eyelashes fluttered.
I understood what Lauryn Hill meant when she uttered,
“I’ve never been in love like this before”.
Every time I thought it was full, my heart grew more.
Saleen, you taught me how much it could store.
More than my niece, you’re a fourth my kid.
I raised you as much as Grandma, my brother, and your mom did.
When you grow up kinda poor,
you really know, it takes a whole village to make a child grow.
Making you smile was the greatest happiness I could know.
Then decided, God, to even the score,
Gathered all the bad karma from all my lifetimes before.
And my sweet Saleen fell sick.
Hospitals, seizures, medication…
A childhood shouldn’t be so sad.
Guess in my previous life—I was really, really bad.
How can you face each day with so much strength and courage?
You’ll never know how you inspire and encourage.
Still just a baby,
yet so much stronger than me.
You blow me mind.
It breaks my heart, every time.
Wish I could make things easier for you,
but there’s only so much I can do.
And it’s never enough.
Like it or not, this disease makes your days rough.
At eight years old, you’re so fucking tough.
Now I see with new found clarity,
how selfish and petty I used to be.
How can I fear judgment or failure?
Let anything weak, like rejection or lack of belief,
get in the way of the success and love I seek?
My sweet baby, your struggle has made me so meek.
You’re facing death.
You laugh at pain.
It makes everything else, seem like a game.
My angel is dying.
What excuse can I ever have now, for not trying?
Oh God, you wouldn’t believe how humble I’ve become.
Or was that was your plan, all along…