Doctrine of Scramble Manifest

You can not define me.

Perfection

I'd like to thank Africa for this color. Grammie's seven up cake for this stomach. Grandaddy's red beans and rice for these thighs. My mama for these eyes. Chukwu for this life. Muma for those books. The Ancestors for the resolve to remember. And Ron for the strength I found after everything he took. Perfection…

Story Time

Lemme tell you wha had happened. Erased from our mental history were the memories of a identity worth having. So we're mixed. American with some Cherokee too, add some creole and geechee, but only because you don't know enough to know- them latter groups was niggas too. ...anything and everything but being what we are:…

Honor Grandma Saartje

...Can you honor this black woman? Do you see the perfection of this black body? -

African American

Languageless. Nationless. Faceless. ...but everyone knows who we are. Forever in our purgatory of races, but I'll never let us forget who we were. Children of Nzinga, Ashanti and Taytu. Our ancestry implacable and unmistakable at once. ...even if we can't greet our siblings in our ancestrally shared tongues. I am African. I am American.…

A Trite Writing About Love

Show me. Show me how to touch to you. Show me how to move my hips in ways that guide you through orgasmic planes where our souls meet and realize they're meant for each other. Show me the language your heart loves in. Show me the places where your soul finds its happiness and your…

Toujou Sonje Ayiti

...But be still. Because to know Haiti is to know pride and determination. To know Haiti, is to know hope. The nation, the people that fought until waters ran red with the blood of our oppressors, will rise again...

The Archetype

You purposefully, don't know the pain I carry- all the tears I free at night   Sleepless night after sleepless night. Every insomnia driven thought either a painful memory or a concocted tragedy loosely stemmed from my reality. Even in my subconscious...

Hagar’s Children

A tribe-less people with white men's last name. I don't know what to call us, but I know who we are...

I Am Not African

I'm not African. ...hold on gurl, let me call you back while I make this ngombo, my B yo, I mean gumbo.

Family Reunion

...and one day we'll find each other again. Our newfound unity stronger than before. No more ethnic, linguistic differences or tribal wars. No longer will your God's words make us question our own. We'll find our resolve in centuries of suffering, our strength from ongoing pain. But this time, no guns, nor rum or affirmative…

First blog post

Lately, I've felt despondent, perhaps even depressed (but I'm black and we don't get that disease). I did a lot to try and overcome that feeling. I achieved desired goals, created orgs., reconnected to my community and I still couldn't shake this feeling of, not suicidal thoughts, but this deep rooted confusion as to why I was alive. Like, to die? Go through some motions and then croack?