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This is a single from my upcoming Spoken Word project titled "Machete Grace". RESPECT AND LOVE. 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   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 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  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  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 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 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 |
Author"I was blessed with the ability to make ugly look pretty. This is my superpower." Archives
September 2022
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