Release Your Soul

There is a fear that lies within your soul, it is you. There is a freedom that lies within your soul, it is you.

Dance to the rhythm of now

Like Afro beats the rhythm captures my roots, my heritage, the song of the ancestors. Blessed am I the way the vibration moves through my soul, echoing loudly deflecting white noise, deflecting white lies. I feel alive, moving to the awakening of happiness that once was dormant awaiting life, awaiting the perfect melody to sing…

The Cuervo Effect

Jose… Why do I reach for you when my soul’s dehydrated? Knowing I need to quench my thirst, I call your name. When others reject you, I sing your praises. I love you. You burn slow, but I’m still here. You challenge my existence and take me to new heights at dangerous depths, But from…

Gender-fied

On a quest to manifest my destiny, the stress in me has me questioning my life’s authenticity, so don’t judge me please and pardon me, if I rather chill in the garden with eve.

Weeping Willow

Lessons never hurt so good. Make me grow as a woman as I knew they would. Teach me what I need to know. Help me find the courage I needed to grow. Sometimes, I cry like a weeping willow. Tears fall in my pillow, I try hard not to let them go. Too much pride,…

Confessions Part 1 (The Realization)

I love money. There I said it. I love the finer things, exotic even. I have a need for speed, although there are those in need, my hunger bleeds for more. Penthouse style lofts, the finest wine, double time, yeah that’s me. I tried the whole minimalist thing, it worked, I woke, I gave, I…

Lucid Dreams

When I cross the finish line, It’ll be clear that mother nature has run her course. Clairvoyance of the now, I can foresee. A vulnerable reality. For my meek heart only thinks in terms of accomplished disappointments. There’s not enough ointment to heal these wounds, Mind buried in a tomb, Beautiful soul, ticking boom! Blahs. I…

Rhythm & Blues

I understood her antipathy. For even in my vulnerable moments, I could hardly swallow my own words. And I knew she was different. But somehow the forgotten became the recalled and I blacked out to insecurity where breathing was merely a way of survival and not a way to regain focus. The cycle of cyclones…