February is hard on this heart.

December remembers

And the new year is

Brimming with the unknown.

I’m coming home

Or going down.

Welcomed snow,

Blanket this unhallowed ground

I tread upon.

Come, fall again,

Erase my tracks

So I forget where I’ve gone.

I need this quiet crunch,

These bare branch-naked trees,

Jagged in this Moonlight

Pointing down at me.


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My First Sonnet


How to know which way it is I’m to go?

How best to lift this weight, my knees to break?

This heart drudging, wandering, lost in snow,

Bowing to melancholy, clouds of slate.

This is my asylum, white walls, caged in.

Hope remains deferred; heart submerged in shade.

The wherewithal to fight this looming din

Kills salvation like heart impaled by spade.

Love, then, what gossamer strand do you hold?

These hands inured by ghosts dissemble me.

Ash to rust and gold to stardust, runs cold.

Colorless distended flesh, this cold breeze,

This my cameo, my life’s finale,

The blood and snow, feral wolf, it calls to me.

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Center of The Storm

This is a new thing.

Sit cross-legged,

Hands folded, waiting for your

Redundant complaining

That shatters glass by the mere sound

Of you.

This is a new thing,

Waiting in the silence for you.

Wading in strength knowing you have none.

Controlling my passions while yours go unbridled

And I ride my anger through the storm,

Pelting rain and angry lightning

Until I’m dead center in my rage.

There, long ago, in the center of the storm,

I gnawed out of my cage,

Learned to be brave,

I wait, patiently, in the center of the storm.

Come find me.

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Thoughts on Kesha’s “Praying”

It’s overwhelming when I’m diminished for my sex-

Defined by how good sex with me is-

Told I’m hot or ugly by how good my body is-

I’m a queen in no need of a king-

But I’m not strong without a king to hold my burdensome crown?

How so?

A woman declares rape-

Men laughed and walked away.

I’m “good” if I’m “good in bed” but

I’m a slut for laying down for all the “pimps” and “players”

Because a woman is easily dirtied but a man is untouchable.


Married woman-superior?

For all those who fucked a woman and called her a whore

For laying down for you.

For all those who assaulted another

In the name of their own personal pleasure.

“I hope you’re somewhere Praying”.


DISCLAIMER***Lasst line of poem is quote from song-NOT MY OWN***





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Where Are They?

It’s so post pictures of monumental moments, and you know someone who should be there to partake in them, is not there. No, they’re not dead. No, they’re not physically incapacitated and unable to be a part. They just…aren’t. There’s always time for a selfie. By golly there damn well will be time for the gym because you don’t look this hot staying home. But it nags, it pulls and stretches me and now there is an empty pit in my stomach, because I know they should be here to see this. And they’re not. It’s not because they don’t know the number to call, or don’t have a phone to call. It’s not because they think they wont be answered. They know they wont be ignored. So, where are they? When he had his first day at pre-school, where were they? When he had his first Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentines Day; when he took his first steps, when he said “mamma” for the first time; when he said “daddy” for the first time; where were they? When he saw his first snow, when he slid down the big boy slide for the very first time, where were they? When he had his testing for kindergarten, and he scored in the TOP of his age group, 11 percent shy of a perfect score, where were they?That’s what happened today, his kindergarten testing. I am so proud of my baby. He is amazing and I don’t feel I even deserve to be his mom. Why? Because he truly is that amazing. He is growing so big and so fast. He is smarter than me and quicker than me. His heart could swallow the world and then some, it’s so big. So, where are they then? They should know, that while I was sick, he brought me tissues and bottle water and tucked me in. They should know, when I was sad, he would hold me and tell me everything will be okay, that I’m still beautiful and he will always love me no matter where I go. They should know his beauty, his incredible heart, his tenacity. Think I’m making this up? I’m not. Yes, that is how amazing he is. So where are those who chose to miss out on this? How could you? How dare you? While I’m writing this, experiencing life with my little angel, it puzzles me to see your selfies but no phone call, no text-absolutely no inquiry as to how he is, if he is well or how his testing went. I hurt today, for my son. Because, it’s been 5 years now. I thought, maybe I will understand as time goes on. Maybe, juts maybe it will come together and I will see why they are absent, why they have never been there. But no, that has not happened. And I believe wisdom is saying that day may never come. If you aren’t a parent, you can’t fathom the depth of pain and righteous anger this causes. But you empathize. So, as a mom, I hurt, I rage, I mourn and I nurture. I am God’s creation and strong for everyone around me, even when I crumble, I do not collapse. When I cry I do not breakdown. When I hurt I do not complain, or dare whimper. When I want to give up, I realize who is watching me. When I go, what will I leave for my son? What example would I have set for him? I will not leave him a leaver. I will not make him a coward. I will not show him how to never finish what he starts. I will not let him be inconsistent, blowing however the wind may blow. I.Will.Not. How? Because I will not. Verbal exclamations go far if they are evil, but good, loving actions will teach what my words could never express. So, no matter where they are, I am right here. I am right here to experience of holding close and then letting go, of crowding to protect then pulling back to let him learn. Parenting is like the ocean waves, draws you in but then you must go back out, back and forth back and forth, ever stopping, always moving. That is what changes you as a person, the process of learning, of asking God “How did you see me worthy of being a mom?” He did though. So here I am; honored, loved, strong. In spite of it all, I will forgive them, every day, because my son must know what forgiveness looks like. And it starts with me. I wish they were here, but the pain is mine to carry and through a tearful smile I will joyfully bear down and carry it whenever I go, because that is my job, my honor. In and of it all, I am grateful.

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To My Enemies and Whores Like Me



To my enemy,

You have a heart like mine,

Easy to break and hard to set right-

You look at me through tainted eyes because you don’t


Your own insecurities.

You put on me all your fear of who

You cannot be, and that, my dear,

Is not living.

You see

the product of one forged in fire,

Melted with silver, age difference

Makes no difference to an old soul-

Some never learn, some are reborn,

Some flicker in and out in hard times,

And others burn the brightest when tried;

You hate me because you don’t know who you are-

You’re threatened because you’re completely ignorant

That the stars even, do not outshine you-for they may sing for all eternity,

But the Creator only wishes to hear you.

Our worth as believers is not defined by what we do, yes?

So what makes you think you can lose it by something you do, don’t do or try to be but can’t?

God will never help you be anyone else but you.

He gives so much more than beauty for our ashes-He gives new life,

New hearts, New minds-new eyes-

Roses represent love but they have thorns, do they not?

This will break you, yes.

So stop praying to stop the breaking

And start praying to be broken and rebuilt into

Something stronger than you’ve ever been.

Don’t pray against the breaking and embrace the making of

A new you.

You look at me and wonder how I can love like I’ve never been hurt

And it’s because I didn’t look at others for a standard to measure by.

You get jealous of my strength but if you went through what I went through to get it

You wouldn’t of made it to the other side alive.

Part 2

To those who are whores because they were pimped-

To the men who get street cred for how many

Whores they get in their bed-

To society who demonize women for a one night stand

And glorify men for a life free of consequence:

If you’re a whore like me, you slept with a pimp

Who left you when you got pregnant and

Abandoned you to raise it


Yes that’s a man-something to aspire to be-

A no-good-for-nothing.

Chase your dick until one day you wake up

In bed alone and wonder “what if”

About the son you’ve never known.

If a whore is what I’ve been-

Than I am PROUD to be one- to be

Considered one of these.

A strong woman, undefined by the inconsistency of

Such a contradictory world-

A man is a man for bedding herds of women

And a woman is a slut for doing it even once-

Judged for raising a child on her own-labeled modern feminist

Who chased the father away because she thought she was too

Good for him-

Or labeled weak and needy-incapable of taking care of herself

For begging him to stay…wanting to make her little family work.

Mary Robinson had it right-

“Man first degrades, and then deserts her”.

Hold your scarlet letter high and proud.

Tell the world how the minister helped you fall

Into your abysmal state of harlotry,

A woman after Eve, responsible for mankind’s fall.

Yet Eve was led by Adam who was not strong enough to lead-

Everyone misses the point, everyone that were two before, are meant to

Become one-

But in modern day society the woman is the weaker one.

Remember Ahab, the woman who God sees, a cast off, a

Mistress and God pursed her when she tried to flee.

Remember the woman at the well- rejected and abandoned by 5

Husbands before-

Living with a man she refused to marry

Because she could could take no more-

God went to her because He wanted her for forever.

Cast me off-cast us all- but you’ll have to burn the Bible too

Because God thought enough of us and our hearts to put our

Stories in His book.

We are royal heirs, entitled to everything that is the Lord’s.

I am amazing for the love I have for my son

And for God’s  blessing, allowing him to be born.

So, if you’re a whore like me, then you know

What honor there is in the quiet prayer closet,

When men say “Worthless” and you,

Beating your chest and barring your teeth,

You scream

“I am more!”



Robinson, Mary, “….from A Letter to the Women of England” The Broadview

Anthology of British Literature. Ed. Joseph Black., et al. 2nd Ed. Ontario: Broadview

Press, 2010. pp. 760-768. Print.

Woman at the well, John Chapter 4. 

Ahab, Genesis Chapter 16.



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Father’s Day 2017



My daddy, oh man. There aren’t words. I know Jesus and how He loves because of how you love. I know what integrity, character and strength are, because you’ve shown me. I know what a man is, because you showed me. I know strength because of you. I am who I am because of you. I was pregnant out of wedlock, and what did you do? As soon as I looked you in the eye, and I said “Daddy, I’m pregnant.I am so sorry.” I cried. You cried-which I don’t think i’d ever seen you do before. You shook your head, and “I forgive you- I love you and I love my grandchild. I love you-you’re going to make through this. I will always be here-I will always love you, no matter what.” And you held me as I broke down, terrified.
You LAUGHED at my face because it was sheer terror, and all I could get out was “But I had plans tonight!” hahahah You were there, right beside me, the entire time, holding my hand and telling me I was going to be okay. My baby was born a month early at 5 pounds 9 ounces, missing the pre me unit by ONE day. He was born happy and healthy.
You have been there for my son like he is your own since the beginning. You were there and you’ve always been there, for both of us. I cannot thank you enough for your love and your strength. You’re still the one I call and rant to for hours and you ALWAYS listen. (Sorry about that!haha) I love you. Even though you may check your Facebook semi annually, the world should know how amazing you are. Happy Daddy’s day.

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