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P'sy Vibes (Audio)

12/29/2018

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Graveyard.Whiskey (Audio)

12/29/2018

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This is a single from my upcoming Spoken Word project titled "Machete Grace". RESPECT AND LOVE.

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the art of living

12/29/2018

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So, I forced myself to live today 
Every breath             pushed out in an unnatural birth of rhythm 
Each, a calculated approach to survival 
Each one, stretching out to the universe with conviction
Just hoping someone or something would reach back
Would help me hold all of this falling apart together 
Every exhale released an invisible cloud of sorrow around me
I was walking enveloped in a storm
Flooded   Drowned    Drenched down to my core, 
                 And no one even noticed
No one noticed how my smile didn’t reach my eyes 
That it was merely painted on, and I was Mona Lisa
There is an art form in holding your shit together 
A gentle stroke here, and a hard stroke there 
And if you angle your strength just right in the light, 
People will assume your smile comes easy 
That it is without sorrow 
                 Without sacrifice 
                 Without scream imprisoned behind it
                 Without self-subjugation 
They will not see the force nor the effort it takes to do something so natural 
To inhale exhale
To breathe
So, today, I forced myself to live 
Today, I was a magician 
A work of art and an artist 
And in the right light,
                 My smile   looked    easy

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P'sy Vibes (Audio)

12/29/2018

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Chance of Survival

9/5/2018

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​Have not my tears or shattered moments
you collector of broken things

Let me kiss all of the shit in me they discarded
Teach it how to love the me they left

How to fight off the heavy of black-girl blues
Balance magic between poised and profanity

All I’m saying is let me love what’s mine
Let me heal on my own

Because you might leave one day
And I gotta be able to pull myself through world 
​
   and mourning





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... a thousand words...

8/2/2018

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Previously, someone asked if I worried that some of my pictures would discredit or prevent me from being invited to speak to certain audiences and in certain venues.


My response was simple: If I'm rejected or looked over because of my photographs, then that's not the type of space I want to frequent anyway. I am a multifaceted person. A woman of duality. I'm comfortable in my sex and speak candidly about it. And I will not hide any part of the self I've fought long and hard to learn, accept and evolve in to just to be accepted by a certain audience. Take all of me or get nothing. It's just that simple.


-Jus A Black-Brown Gurl From No Where Doin Thangs

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WOMAN

3/29/2018

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sometimes,
I think WOMAN is the closest I will ever get to heaven
So, forgive me
if I praise her skin
drown in the shades of her heart beat
sing her blues on every stage like it’s a pulpit


How can I not appreciate her war?
See scripture at her gates?


Woman got lessons
They hang on her hips
Get stirred into her pots
They pop off her lips between profanity and prayer
Even her “fucks” are soaked in starlight


Dear woman-
You supernova shit talking in your glory
You are one of the reasons I still believe in God






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LOVE LIKE

12/21/2017

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I love like


dreaming while I'm awake
like that first taste of Hip Hop
like dope boys love corners that don't love them
like school girls hold their first crush
like flying in a world of gravity
like black girl loves black boy or black girl
like the first poem that didn't know it was a poem
like I'll make beautiful of these scars


I love like
I love like


I love like I ain't neva been broken



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STILL SHOTS

12/18/2017

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I got a collection a collection of still shots in my heart
Moments of breaking and of making
Most of them are labled with some version of
"not again" or "is it safe here?"
Self says
I don't know
Heart says
It's been safe here
They were just not safe IN here
So, every day Me, Self and Heart collectively decide to continue to love
We just keep the still shots as a reminder that it's not safe to let everyone in
But, just like heaven, I find it odd that this gate is even necessary


​
​

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TIRED

12/4/2017

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Do you know tired?
Ever tasted it after a memory slipped like bile up in your throat?
Ever felt it tap you on shoulder and make you crumble?
Hell is the way tired convinces you that you are exhausted with living
When your reflection betrays you and looks like all the THEM that left
and broke you on their way out of the door
It is the miscarriage of love and love's stillbirth
Tired is victim being accused of playing victim
But they don't know tired
They don't hear it no matter how loud it screams
They only recognize it after you're tired enough
​
to finally leave

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