It is mentioned in the bible
A touchy subject that has everyone on edge,
Believer and non-believer alike,
Whether you choose to be a sinner by choice,
Or a sinner saved by grace,
As one balances the other in the eyes of God,
We are all equal,
If I am a Christian am I righteous as I claim Jesus?,
If I am non-believer will Jesus turn away from me?,
If a Christian stops standing by the word of God will he/she not fall?,
If a non-believer decides to argue the conversation of God,
Are they themselves not allowed to ask?
Have we fallen short of the eyes of the lord,
That we can’t defend our beliefs as Christian because it offends other people,
As well as aren’t non-believers have the right to express their freedom of speech.
Questions we do not ask but choose to point the finger,
We hate what we can’t control,
We hate what we do not see,
We hate to hold onto burdens from past and previous events,
We hate as Christians to be conflicted in situations we do not understand,
And non-believer hate when Christian talk about a God they do not understand,
Yet, we are spiraling out of control believer and non-believer alike,
The difference is God is apart of the equation.
My Christian views should not surprise you,
Yet, I am not perfect myself,
Condemning is the beginning of the battle,
But finding peace/love/grace/ comes with convictions,
Deeper wounds, conflicted issues that aren’t healed,
Willing and ready to overcome the obstacle,
Healing the open wounds that broke me,
That breaks me,
That has hurt me,
That stripes away my sanity,
When it comes to choosing between the world and God,
As the world has condemn,
But my father in heaven who has loved me,
For all eternity and forgives my sins,
As I repent and build a relationship,
My sins will only be a memory,
There is so much sin in the world,
Everyone is focused on homosexuality,
There are other ones that are mentioned like,
Idolizing/lying/cheating/adultery/sex-before marriage,
The list could go on,
Being a part of this world is the curse,
That continues to break and divide,
So when we mention sin,
Remember as a believer,
In scripture it is written
To hate the sin but love the sinner,
That is not just implied for non-believers,
But believers as well.


I Am Not What You Think

I am not your token black girl.

I am not mixed with half white or black mixtures,

That define my ethnicity.

I am not your play thing.

I am not your stereotypical black girl who wants to be white,

By any means.

Because I talk with stern dictions that edifies,

My native tongue of where I’ve been,

And knowing where I’ve come from.

A mother who was tear gassed,

And abused in the South,

Yet, still decided to stand by the Activist of,

Martin Luther King Jr, Maya Angelou, and The Black Panthers.

Who’ve serviced in advocacy to promote,

The actions that helped poverty in many communities,

Who’ve open the eyes of Blacks everywhere.

My father who was not served in many areas,

Of the National Capital,

That still determines to abuse its residents,

Based on racial profiling,

And no proof of description,

When we talk about justice,

There is none.

My family is the reason that I talk and I speak,

With good postures before I can stand up,

And face the racism of this sickening world.

Dealing with the stereotypes of black and white,

Knowing that if the whites accepts you,

They talk behind your back,

With fear of conviction,

And no backbone.

Being around your own culture,

Does not serve peace.

Knowing that if the blacks accept you,

You will be known as the girl who talks white,

Who has to fight physically and mentally,

That spiritually drains the individual inside.

Being told everyday you’re not black enough,

As your environment tells you how to act,

Which we were not made for,

Comprised areas,

That focuses on us to become monsters,

Angry at the world,

Ready to dog someone,

We were not made for  these conditions.

I see intelligence in my own culture every day,

Black men and women,

Who are defined by the purpose of the media,

They can’t make the grade,

So they put us through bad public schooling,

And they wonder why we are doing poorly,

In Academics.

But when it comes to sports,

They teach us,

Train us,

Reward us,

With trophies that do not mean a thing.

They tell us you’re not strong enough,

So we prove it with our gangs and guns,

If only we were taught to speak with our words,

It is stronger than any double edge sword,

And that’s how we stomp out the competition.

We are 11 percent of the world,

That is told we are overqualified,

Underqualified or,

My favorite, you lack the experience,

Yet, we keep dominating by creating more kids,

And fighting harder to make a living,

By taking any job with no complaining,

It is like they are settling for less,

And they are worth more.

Better to be an individual who is called the token black,

The same one who tries to defeat the barriers,

Who knows who they are as a person,

Who beats any stereotype or quota,

That challenges them to stay in an on going battle,

Not to prove a point,

And beat society,

But because they have the smarts.

To do so.

I expect this world to look pass racial differences,

And unite as one for the means of peace.

But we can’t have these things,

Because society keeps telling us,

Who we are,

And they tell others who they should be,

Plus feeding into the palms of those,

Who want to see you fail and never make it.

I am telling you that education is the key,

We were once farmers, business owners, billionaires,

We had our own stock markets, banks, owned homes,

We went to the finest colleges at the young age of 13,

And started our lives from there.

We did not relay on other cultures,

That helped build our foundation,

But we relayed on each other.

Now, we are turning away from our people,

Who could possibly save your life.

We face the issues of color,

Dark skin versus light skin,

Slave owners could figure out a way to separate us,

But, we should see ourselves as the Blacks,

Who were freed from slavery not to maintain,

The actions of which color is beautiful,

But we are like a rainbow,

Different shades of color,

Who cares if the person is lighter or darker?

We were made to be beautiful.

We were made to unite with one another.

As I see this general statement constantly,

Being said repeatedly,

It reminds you of what society,

Tells a culture what they need to be.

This does not have to be black or white,

It happens in the Asian, Indian, Arabic speaking,

African, and European communities,

Something that has clearly defined our societies,

Shaping our women and men,

Based on the trends of Culture.


This is my reality

A person, I  don’t see,

Who am I, in this persona,

And where am I going,

Lost in the wings to when,

Pushed back and forth for sin,

As the world begins to cave in,

My faith begins to fail,

My life is crashing before its eyes,


With the inability to move in brokenness,

Burden by the weight that begins to carry,

Not, just physically as it shows in my mentally capacity,

As to where or why I’m here,

Who are my friends/families/ haters,

Pieces of who I was is, lost to never have been found,

Torn by the reigns this pain carries,

Into a no body that causes destruction by the pound,

By the stem cells/by the cold heart that begun to grow,

Spun out of control,

To no end

Proving who I am to put down,

Celebrated by celebration left unliberated,

Turned into a crown of thorns,

Persecution be treating as the delusion,

To talk back, get mad, and loud,

By the oppression, a label that is my crown,

Shameful by an act I didn’t wish upon myself,

Yet others promote and laugh,

As I lose pieces of my self-wealth,

And I am called “worthless”,

And other names that begun to match,

I believed in what they’ve told me,

I believed in the hatred that began to open wounds,

The holes that were never closed in the beginning or end,

Healing in unorthodox ways to fill the void,

In many names.

Objects that began to objectify to comprise the injustice,

Transferred into an act for lack of safety into irresponsibility,

Violated/pillaged without complicity.

Homeless soon had a name,

Unable to sleep or move into a career,

Left frozen with new chains,,

Now I have to make a move.

The crime committed,

They began to choice.

My Voice

My voice is me,
It is my strong,
It is my fortress,
It is my soul,
Its what helps people understand me.
But truthfully I am tired of others,
getting the way my voice is designed,
We are all created differently,
For a reason, its our entity,
My voice is many things,
It can be plain to see that I am here with it,
Its apart of me,
A sound that can’t be reached,
For my voice is amusing to me,
My voice is treated like the garbage I see everyday out on the streets,
Because its eccentric,
We are living in a world,
That defines ours,
But it not there to speak,
Its only a matter of opinion,
But we can care to not care,
But don’t you dare,
Take away the one living thing I have left,
Just because you can find your own voice,
Its your own mess.