Sunday, November 11, 2018


Yo' left, yo' left, yo' left, right, left. Your MILITARY left, soldier. 

Oh, you woke up late? Beat your face, soldier. 

You miss your family? Well, Jody is your kids' daddy now, soldier. 

PTSD? What's that? Quit malingering, soldier. 

Suicide?! Not today, soldier. 

We need you to cut the grass. 

You're on the edge. Suck it up, soldier. 

Drunk on duty? You ain't thinking, soldier. 

Seen your battle buddy blown up? He'll get a memorial. 

He'll get a burial. His family will get money. 

His kids get a scholarship. Quit whining, soldier. 

When I got blown up I reported to work the next day. 

Want to end the cycle?! Not today, soldier. 

We got a game to play. It's called war. 

Countries in distress?! We can't help them all, soldier. 

We choose a few. Soon you'll be on your way. 

Want to know how we choose the countries?! Me too, soldier.

Thursday, November 8, 2018

The confession: haircut chronicles

My confession admits to my depression.
I used to ignore it.
Treat it more like an apparition.
It was just there, sorta like your hair.
But now it's gone and all I'm left with is fear.
Fear and shame every time you call my name.
I turn my head because you don't look the same.
The voice it matches and I close my eyes to smile.
The memories all flood back, my beautiful little child.
"But mama, it's still me. I'm still the same. Why, oh why would you turn your head in shame?"
Because I've let my anxiety and society let me think that hair could define me or you or our relationship.
I could never love you less and even though I couldn't imagine loving you more, i do.
Every day I wake up, I'm glad it's with you.
My son, you're the best and you make me better.
You've embraced this cut even when I ran from it.
Your tiny frame enjoyed this transition with a joy that I have never endured.
I'm grateful your smile is contagious.
One that last for ages. Thank you for forgiving me and all my insecurities.
I love you and your cut and your feet and your tiny, little butt.
I love your dimple and everything about you. It's oh soo simple.
Your wisdom will get me through and the knowledge that I hope to share with you.
You've shown me the way.
There is no shame. No anxiety.
No depression.
None of society's impressions.
My beautiful baby has made me proud.
As a mama, I'll say it loud.
I'll love you unconditionally if you promise, my baby to always be......💗

Monday, November 5, 2018

The end....

The veil falls over my face but I still see the light.
I slowly rise towards it without a fight.
My body is weightless and I follow the light surrounded by darkness.
I do not turn or look back for I have given up the physical.
My spiritual has taken the place of my mental.
This transcendence engulfs me in a light brighter than flames.
This must be it.
The way a life ends.
The way we find ourselves in the next place.
Limbo must be short or I skipped the line.
I've floated up straight to the great divine.
I accept my fate with a smile on my face.
This must have been the warmest embrace.
Before it's all over, I fall back to where I started.
Swaying gently like a leaf that has dearly departed.
Separated from the great tree that it once was one.
Away from the light. Away from the sun.
I open my eyes from the deepest slumber.
Wide awake and full of wonder.
Thank you creator, you have been my savior. You've granted me another day.
I arise with much haste for there is no time to waste.
I've been given another day.
A new beginning where it was once the end.

Sunday, November 4, 2018

The First Date

"I'm late."
Is the text I send.
The usual one.
Again and again.
I don't think I've been on time for anything.
Not even my birth.
Boy, that must have hurt.
I ponder on how much I really owe my mama as my hands continue to wander.
Touching every garment in my closet.
Judging piece by piece. Ripping my self-esteem apart in the mix.
I fall on my bed as a casualty in this war of love. Getting dressed for the one I'm thinking of.
But this date, the one that I continue to be very late, isn't the one I'm thinking of.
What's a first date if it's not a poetry slam
Or jam
Or spoken word
Or library
Or some other literary digest where you overfill yourself on life.
I jump into my jeans as I imagine the words whisking me away to a magical place.
That's probably the only date that I'd never be late.
The first date of my dreams is the one where it seems as though I'll be known in the streets more than the sheets.
"There she goes."
"That's Meadow."
They all say I'm the girl or the man or whatever of all the poetry jams.
I'm doing it with this poet thing and I'm loving every minute of it.
I put on my shoes and glance at myself.
I smile at my reflection and walk through my door like sheer perfection.
I must hurry up for this date.
The one for which I'm already late.
The one that might lead me to my fate....still thinking about my dream date.
But I can wait, for words are timeless and priceless.
I'll wait for the date which I cannot be late.
It will be our first.....the very best date!

T&E Thursday part 💬

 🥴🥴 Let's just say the 1st 2 weeks were anomalies....🤔🤔 or maybe this week is the anomaly because I have NOT been on it. Idk what ha...