She: My Ode to Gloria

She….Glorious…Glory…Gloria She is hurt She is burdened Overworked and unappreciated She is love She is comfort She is home She is mother She is womb She is Glorious Glory Gloria She is rock She is provider She alone All the love She is there When no one else is She Glorious Glory Gloria

The Talented Ones

Who are we We’re the talented ones The ones that keep a day job Everyone tells us we’re wasting Wasting our potential But hey They ain’t gonna pay our bills We write in the night We work in the day We train at night Work at dawn Work work work Bills bills bills We’re the talented ones The ones who keep day jobs Everyone tells us we’re wasting our potential We Zumba at night At work in the morning We’re creative at night We work all day We do personal statements We work We’re the talented ones The ones who keep day jobs Everyone tells us we’re wasting our potential Work work work We're not phased we're focused on our journey We're the talented ones

Take Off Your Cool

Take off your cool you're not even cool I'm David You're Goliath You stand there just staring my body trembles inside I suck back the tears of all the bs years Take off your cool You're not so cool You barely exist It's all so vague paths cross intersect yet nothing connects Take off your cool You're not so cool Try not to drool Take off your cool Cowardice cowardice oh cowardly lion you have no courage no roar in your lame self No words to speak Things better left unsaid but it doesn't phase me nothing phases me wait no you nothing phases you Take off your cool you're not so cool I'm not fooled I know the truth Nothing was ever cool I'm David you're Goliath you'll find no intimidation here Take off your cool you aren't you weren't you're not even cool

Curse and A Gift

My therapist said let it out You need to breathe Cuz you can cope Let it out let It breathe Just be you, it comes naturally My biggest coping Mechanism are my words My open letters So I’m gonna air it out Got some things to rap about But I’m trippen Cuz I know they all gonna judge me Everybody got something to say “fam” say I’m a harlot, jezebel, but I’m putting it nicely Cuz I used to dwell up in the club Sippin on bub Highest heels and short skirts Having way too much fun Living like I was still 21 Time of my life I was masking all my pain Searching for a way To make it out of the dark Out of the hurt Wanted everyone to see My life was fun, it was dope But I’d rather have been on dope And here I am somewhat night and day I love the party life like Jay But you don’t see the not so glamorous life The promoters who won’t let you in Cuz oops you ain’t so paper thin Or you ain’t look like your model friend And they gonna judge me because I air it all out My hurts, my pains Admitting way to much To people I thought I could trust Lying, hating people Dwelling in their own misery Want commiserate on my own misery Brutally honest about My past and my present Dreaming of my future Cuz it’s so different And I write and write because it’s all I know All I can do It’s my saving grace Takes me away to a different place It’s my own, my very own space To get people who can relate Who need the healing In the words up on this page To hear someone gets you But the judgment is standing in my way The fear, the ridicule the hypocrisy Raining on my parade of success A gift and a curse My favorite form Of self expression Of release My tranquility My peace My therapy My release A curse and A Gift....

For the Ride

what happens when you vow to be ride or die but your ride and die was just a ride? What happens when they leave you? You stayed in it to win it but they peaced out on everything they vowed to you. more coward than rider It hurts more than you could know. Ride or die ran out on you and you you see them in the street and they don't even speak they don't acknowledge your eyes meet ain't no promise just lies linger in the air you ain't ride or die you were taken on a ride before you promise before you commit just think about it marinate on it cuz people say things in the heat of the moment because they live just for the moment they just want know they own it but when it all hits the fan he ain't your man you ain't his girl you was the ride you know you you really ride and die but this time you've died you're doa dead on arrival left for dead in the road and he's onto the next one on to the next one before your blood even goes cold. and so you left with the baggage you taking the wrap you holding the gun he pulled the trigger he robbed the bank but you're the one in the cuffs and he don't own it no accountablility you're the one punished scarlet emblazoned on ya cuz you were down for whatever down for your love down for the ride but you been riden out on turns out your ride or die was only just for the ride

The Rapids: Navigating therapy and depression

Some of the greatest writers are the ones who bare it all. The ones who lead you into the depths of characters or the ones brave enough to let you into the depths of their own souls. To write is to bare it all, to tell the naked truth. It is to put to paper your deepest feelings and thoughts. I am not very good at giving speeches but I sure can put my pen to paper. My goal as a writer is to make you feel things, to read things, the very things people won’t talk about. The very things I fear will cause ridicule. In order to be true to my love I must bare it all. Sobriety comes in many forms. The most popular form of sobriety involves the abstinence of alcohol or drugs. It is rare to think of sobriety as sobriety of your mind. However, many of us are walking around with inebriated consciousness full of wretched thoughts and memories that intoxicate us beyond repair. There might be desperation for that sobriety, the help to get out of those toxic thoughts and memories. There might be an addiction to this intoxication. In my case I believe I was drunk off the depressive state I’ve been in. I believe I’ve suffered from depression and definite anxiety for a very long time. I believe sobriety of the mind is a thing more difficult than weaning one’s self off alcohol or drugs. How do you stop yourself from believing all the bad things you’ve told yourself or been told? For many years I rolled my eyes at the idea of therapy. Many people spoke to me about its benefits and this and that and the other. I rolled my eyes. I said I don’t need that. I’m not crazy. It was not a place I wanted to venture. I had tried it once. The intern I saw at our student center painted me 50 Shades of Crazy. I suppose I scared her. You can’t just casually mention suicide and cutting to someone and not expect them to wig out. My therapy has consisted of the following: alcohol, rage, music, poetry, the gym, yoga, prayer, crazy conversations with God, and many times my friend’s ears. I’m sure I’ve made those ears bleed. Particularly I’ve made hearts bleed as they watched me not take advice or act like I had everything together. Perhaps they thought I did truly have it all together. I’ll let you in on a secret-NO ONE has anything together!! This New Year I took a leap of faith, a last resort. I stepped into the office and they handed me a clipboard with tons of paperwork. So my journey began. In front of me was a list, it read please check all that apply: Death of friend Death of family member Work related stress End of relationship Financial issues Legal issues Illness Family issues DEPRESSION The list went on and on. I felt compelled to leave the clipboard in the seat and get up and leave. I sat there for a while recalling the past few years. Now fast forward to the past year. I checked off almost the entire list. I sat there as I took it in- that all these things had happened to me, to people I knew, they happened. They existed in my life. And I was still standing. I was still breathing. I took a big breath as I was led down a hallway to another office. I took yet another huge breath. As I sat in his office and he introduced himself I could feel my heart thumping harder and faster. My mouth was as dry as the Sahara. As he reviewed each line item they recalled each event as an assessment I swallowed hard. One by one I admitted and described each thing. Sigh by sigh I felt relieved. Admission is the biggest relief in the world. When you admit who you are and what has happened that is the first small breath that comes of relief. Your body changes, you start to ease. Perhaps it means you are truly breathing for the first time in eons. When you realize you are accepted with all that you have admitted, now that’s when the storm really begins. When you come to acceptance of what has occurred, the choices you’ve made, the things you have caused; that is when the flood begins. You realize you are sailing out in the middle of a vast ocean on a makeshift raft all by yourself in a storm. You are pushing against the torrential current cascading down the waterfall of life. As the water rises, as the storm rages on what do you do? Do you drown? Do you survive? Do you thrive? I believe you do all of the above. I’ve drowned so many times I should be dead. I’ve risen so many times I know that there is someone other than me pulling me out of the dredges-the deep dark pits I’ve been in. And just like that I’ve climbed out of the pit and into a garden where the day is starting to break. Then just as soon as it began my first session was over. Soon it was a new day. The day came for my first day of my group therapy. I looked around much like the first day of my math class in college. My eyeballs darted around. I attempted to make myself cozy. Then we were told we would introduce ourselves. I felt my throat go dry, I wanted to run. As I listened to each and every person, I felt like hugging each one of them. I felt like someone understood me and they felt the same. If you think that therapy is something for “crazy” people think again. Therapy is for the broken, the tattered, worn, very human masses. People tell me I’m strong and I just don’t understand. But you were given this life because you were strong enough to live it. So are you ready? Are you ready to live? Get ready because this is the beginning, the beginning of my story. It is the story of the raft I began to build to handle the rapids of life. Stay Tuned

Lot

Running on and on Through this door And through the next You can’t turn back Pillars of salt you’ll become Running running So out of breath He really hurt her Stole her star Running on and on No more avoiding Keep running Keep running So tired So out of breath The languid limbs Yearning to give up Can she do it outrun the demon Can she flee the inevitable Door number 1 Door number 2 She starts to turn but no cannot cannot turn back must be like Lot not like his wife must keep going not turn into salt The past it grows bigger it grows stronger And she is weary And she is weak She near the top And her bosom heaves heavily and the sweat runs down the brow tears burn the coffee brown eyes She looks to the top Ready to give it all she's got Running and running No turning back....