I’ll write down a word, a line, then a verse
it feels natural to me, like a woman carries a purse

This has happened tonight
in the midst of a poetic delight
a flow of words have come out right

So here’s a poem about possibility
and a bit about helping humanity,
because if we’d each discover
and uncover our own identity
I do believe
we’d experience unparalleled unity.

We simply need to illuminate our light
come together, and hold on tight

And now…the real poem…

“Even a Small Amount of Light”

Even a small amount of light
when placed just right
can have the power to ignite.

Perhaps if its placed on a piece of art
the beating of the most hollowed heart
might, ever so slowly, restart.

Or maybe if its shined into the sky
as the sun drifts boldy by
the darkness might not make each day die.

Each of us has this same light
which we can ignite
despite the blackness of the night

We simply need the willingness to begin
exposing what we possess within
believing in who we truly are once again.

Then, with all of that light from inside of us
we can capture that love trying to hide from us
stand tall and and regain some pride in us
because we’ll shine together
and take great strides for all of us.

don’t expose yourself
because some will disagree

some might even criticize

don’t let your words flow
like rivers

which can be dirty,
and foul

rivers can flood and destroy
like words

be safe

take shelter

close your eyes

your mouth

your mind

then you’ll never offend

hurt

or humiliate

yourself

or others.

and

most of all

believe

everything

you’re

told.

** Anarchy and all-out obedience are both dangerous. We cannot be so afraid that we never speak up, yet we must not be so brash and emboldened and even prideful that we never stop to listen. Extremes are harmful to us all. **

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Poetry is not simply words
placed side by side,
it’s a way of revealing
not concealing,
what we hold on the inside.

And poetry is not just a rhyme
you throw together from
time to time,
it’s way to express the stress
slapped on our chests
keeping us from rest.

The truth is…

The truth is…

If you don’t feel what I feel
then it ain’t real
If what I write leaves you bored
and not restored
then I might as well have closed the door
before you even came through.

Cuz poetry ain’t meant to be glossed over
and forgotten as if it were rotten.
Poetry is meant to move us
and make us see what’s true.

If I didn’t look like me
would you treat me differently?

If my skin was a shade darker
if I stood a few inches taller
if my hair was a little bit longer
would any of this really matter?

Because I wonder if you like me for me
or because you simply enjoy what you see?

If I wore baggy clothes
if I put a piercing in my nose
if I painted my fingers and my toes
would I still be the person everyone “knows”?

If I put on a few pounds
if I made funny sounds
I can’t help but wonder
would you still want me around?

Because I think we lie to ourselves
about the importance of looks.
We judge everything by what we see
especially the covers of books.

We smother our faces in make-up
we throw jell onto our hair
yet when someone laughs at our appearance
we lie like a child in trouble
and claim we don’t care.

So yeah…I think you would treat me differently,
if I didn’t look exactly like me.

Writing poetry is easy
when you have pencil and paper
when you have books you can read
and you’ve got what you need.

But write a poem when you
can’t spell your name
you don’t know who to blame
because your life’s been filled
with nothing but shame.

So this is a poem
for those who can’t write
for those who can’t fight
for those who must hide out
in the middle of the night.

This is a poem
for those who are scared
for those who aren’t spared
because the wealth we have
ain’t shared.

This is a poem
for the children who are dying
as governments keep lying
and we keep denying
that there’s anything we can do.

Yeah life may be hard
but writing poetry should be easy
for me and for you.

I’m not so good at giving advice
because I’m wrong
much more than I am right
but I do know this to be true:
select your friends carefully
because you will do as they do.

I made friends with thieves
in my younger days
and of course I copied their ways.
I stole, I lied, I cheated
no matter how badly I was mistreated.
They showed me acceptance
even gave me attention
in return, all I had to do
was serve detention after detention.

Then I made friends who were smart
who cared more about school
than pretending to be cool.
I read, I studied, I listened
my life finally had a goal, even a mission.
In time I went to college
where I got my degree
I became a teacher of children
now I help them learn poetry.

But things could definitely be different
now that I ponder my past
had I kept friends with bad company
my dreams would have faded fast.

So once again, here’s my advice to you:
choose your friends wisely
because you will do as they do.

I am poetry
I confuse people
but I also make them think
I amuse people
and make others want to drink

I am poetry
sometimes shallow
sometimes profound
sometimes frustrated
by what I have found.

I am poetry
and stronger than I appear
because words aren’t weak
when you make them clear.

I am poetry
and I exist in different forms
to break the norm
to calm the storm
and to provide some relief
from a life filled with grief.

I am poetry
and I don’t pretend to please
my goal is to inspire
or at least light a fire
and push people higher.

I am poetry.

Love is Not Illegal
in the Ghetto

There was a student once
who refused to shake my hand.
He was afraid of love from a teacher
and this I can understand.
For he had learned that toughness
and hatred are what make a man.

In his eyes men fought wars,
and worked on cars.
He learned this from a father
who was constantly behind bars.
The ghetto had taken his love
and spared him only the scars.

There was a girl too
who pushed my love away.
Love scared her to death,
and it still does to this day.
Because she sees love as temporary
and knows it won’t stay.

She learned early on that men lie about love
to get what they desire.
In her eyes my love was not real
I was simply another liar.
Once again the ghetto
had extinguished love’s fire.

But this is a poem about other students,
more in fact.
Who not only accept my love
but also give it back.
They are like that rose in the concrete
growing from the crack.

Because these students are beating the street
and overcoming negativity.
They focus on the love
and not the animosity.
Nothing will stop these students
from attending a university.

Now don’t get me wrong
these students experience drama too.
They’ve had haters, lost love,
and found friends who were not true.
Yet they handle their drama with maturity
so you wouldn’t have a clue
that they are so similar
to you.

It’s time then, for me to thank these students
I shouldn’t have to say your name
you know who you are just the same
And you don’t show me love for recognition or fame.

I want to say thank you for the little things
like shaking my hand before class
like saying hello and smiling
whenever we’d pass.

I want to say thank you
for the important things as well
from following your dreams
to sharing things that were difficult to tell.

I want to say thank you
for overcoming the stereotypes
for being yourself
and ignoring the hype

I want to say thank you
for all the love and respect
What you’ve given me
Is much more than I could ever expect.

Finally, you need to know this:

No group of students has inspired me
the way that you do
And by giving you all that I have
I hope I’ve inspired you too.