Looking for Happy

I went looking for happy
it was in my darkest hour
that happiness eluded me
I went looking for happy
at the bottom of a bottle
of dark brown liquor
that felt like poison when it
invaded my body
I went looking for happy
in a blunt I rolled
and smoked alone
far from the prying eyes of my accusers
I went looking for happy
in the bed of my lover
engulfed in a sea of wrinkled clothes
and crumpled linen
I cringed while he ravaged me
I went looking for happy
in the smile of an innocent child
oh to be carefree!
my childhood a golden relic
tarnished by shame and worry
how I long to be
I went looking for happy
in my bank account
all I found were bills, debt, and depression
I went looking for happy
and I couldn’t find it.
I wonder where it is.
I wonder how it feels.
Is it real?
or just an illusion.
I went looking for happy
and realized
I may never find it…


The Streets Are Alive


The Streets Are alive
They may not be
As beautiful as
The suburbs
Or your gated communities
But they bleed
They scream for
Love and attention
They long for
The Streets are alive
And they refuse to be

Black Girl Found

Was never a rich kid
lowest on the totem pole
never had the light up sneakers
ma told me be thankful
mine didn’t have holes
far from being spoiled
I came from humble beginnings
A place where liquor stole souls
and even saints were sinning
where bars on your windows
were your main source of protection
and young men lost their lives
when they lost their direction
where niggas weren’t fathers
and children grew up quick
and the pollution in the water
made everyone sick

Who cares about a ghetto child
who could ever love me
who would care enough for my struggle
to save me from misery?


When I was seven years old
my grandmother passed
My father was her only child
so she gave her first born her last
no longer a child of the ghetto
we had moved on up
but money was still tight
we were still feeling stuck
People see your home
and think they know what lies within
but if I asked you to write my story
you wouldn’t be able to hold my pen
There were times in the winter
where we used our oven for heat
but no one knew how we lived
our house is the nicest on the street
cuz all that matters is appearance
and the front we put on
you may think you know the lyrics
but I haven’t finished my song

Who cares about the middle class
who are poorer than you know
who would care for my struggles
if I never let them show?

I used to cry for the child
for the person that I was
but I picked myself up
and I’m trying to do better because
the next generation
Any children I’ll conceive
will look to me for strength
someone positive to believe
I still struggle day to day
sometimes I feel the odds
aren’t in my favor
but the sweet taste of success
is something I long to savor
so don’t cry for me
or the struggles I’ve been through
cuz I’m the competition
and I aim to surpass you.

Don’t cry for me
my story isn’t through
I’m a success in the making
Maybe I should cry for you….

Give me Ur Ear

Give me  your ear
let these sweet melodies
seduce you
intrigue you
I shall devour you with my cadence
Arouse you with my tone
My aim is only to please you
I need to hear you moan
Speak softly at first
then raise your voice
to the heavens
leave Earth’s static behind
I want to seduce you
intrigue you
want you
need you
Give me your ear…