Back to the Basics

Back to the Basics

Because it seems I lost my way

Trying to make sense of cents

But poets never get cents from

Those who need to pay attention

They’d rather give up all sense of dignity

By emulating these rap artist that can’t

Even make sense of there own lives as they babble

And yet here you are listen looking like a senseless asshole

But all you can say is listen to that beat


Back to the basics

In the middle of my own

Journey to self enlightenment I came

To a point of confusing this dark place filled

With illusions of real friends and money

I had lost myself in a pile of bullshit

Thinking if I dig deeper I can dig my way out

But instead I end up behind bars


Next to another girl with a bloody nose

Where am I?

Who are the fuck are you?

When did you get here?

And when did I get here?


I ask myself this as I look in a mirror

So dirty I can only see a reflection of

the outline of my face.   

Symbolically this is exactly how I felt


Finally I seen that this is not me

This is not Candace.

Just a poser

So I beat her down.


Wounded and weak I

Finish her off

My mental Coup de grace

Freeing me of this abyss of ignorance.


Back to the basics

Walking cautiously

The city I call home.


On my way to making myself a better woman

But this ride, this walk, this journey is because

I am going back to me


I missed you did you miss me?

The simplicity of me

The one who saw beauty in the

dirtiest of Sidewalks

I said what I want not caring about what others thought


Back to basics

Back to me


I’m the sarcastic

Conscious young woman with

Wisdom to give and wisdom to gain

I am on my journey back to me



Psalms 91

This Morning…


This Morning I awoke from a Dream, petrified.

I was sitting in a pew, and was whisked away blindfolded.


This Morning…


This Morning I awoke from that Dream, petrified.


I rose from my slumber, exhausted, confused, and intimidated.

Trying to leave my bed, but it has turned into a swamp.

Drenched in emotions and adrenaline, I drown.


This Afternoon…


This Afternoon I awoke, and gave truth to the meaning :

“Sleep is the cousin of Death”

I took the leap of faith out of my bed, praying that these wooden floors wouldn’t turn to quick sand.


I calm myself.


I make myself breakfast for the first time in weeks,

because my brain was suffering from malnutrition.

Not your cliche Food for thought,

but more like the last taste of food before an execution.


I ate.


Today I woke up with a foreign feeling.


It seemed as though God was making a Long Distance phone call to me,

and some how it got intercepted and misinterpreted,

I disconnected myself for all communication, and left the phone off the hook.

Figuring if I silence all my problems, these alien feelings will go back to their homeland of seclusion,

and leave me the hell alone.



My dream became real.

This feelings blinded me with the mirror of my reflection, and like a stork,

they carried me in their mouths and delivered me to the doorsteps of my conflict.

The issues that birthed this misguided monstrosity,

looked down on me,

but like a baby I couldn’t comprehend why I have been apprehended from my tranquility,

a place in which I call home.


While present in physicality, yet idle in mind —

The television was no longer poising my mind, but replenishing my conscience.


On this journey to meet the problems that created me,

I discover understanding.


Something so simple as washing the dishes,

gave knowledge that the things most overlooked consume the biggest life lessons.


I stand up and stop kneeling down to these mistakes.


I need to regain balance; as the stork was delivering me back to my dormant mind,

it dropped in me a body of water.


This afternoon….


I awoke leaning up against a wall,

drenched in water, I was cleansing myself of low self-esteem.

As I cleansed my self with a black soaped dove, I felt purity again,

as regret stormed down the drain.


The towel, like my love ones soaked up any disbelief of their love for me.

I am clean.


I rest.


For tonight…



The sun is my kiss goodnight.

The birds are my lullaby.

I thought I shut all doors and windows,

but stealthier than the I air breathe,

Insomnia crept up on me and suffocated my pillow with my thoughts.

Wrapped with a blanket of restlessness,

The birds continually ease my soul in to slumber,

and as I fade, the Sun gently kisses my forehead,

My deprivation tucks me in, and I sleep…like a baby,


Until a couple of hours pass, and I wake up again

I look out the window, and the Sun has been screaming —


I am trying to restore the balance in my life; however right now,

Sleep is not Kin to me; therefore, we’ve become unfamiliar faces.

I just wish these thought clouds of anticipation would precipitate patience.


I cannot just sit around under this umbrella, and wait for dreams to come true.



I will reacquaint myself with sleep,

extract love from my dreams,

and deliver myself success



Beautiful Struggle.

Because the truth is, it doesn’t really matter who I used to be.

Its all about who Ive become. 


Next time I will be sure to put my phone on vibrate.



My Crossroad

n the Salvation Army.

I have come to my crossroad

I’m standing here alone.


It’s like I know what’s right,

But I still keep going left.


If I reach my hand out,

would you reach back..

and embrace me?


I know I gave you the cold shoulder,

But the hand that I’m extending,

Has my heart on its sleeve.



Tonight’s the first time I’ve cried in a couple months,

Lately I ain’t been having time to grieve.

It usually doesn’t rain in Southern California.


But, That was just self greed,

My pride is too rich and My heart is broke.


Middle class mind,

Living diagonal

I walk a thin line

Between Ups n Downs



Doesn’t help the DJ keeps playing my love song, in the background.

Elevator music.



I get lifted,

Too high to see my lows.


When I come down,

I hit rock bottom,

Too low to see the skies.


I’m diggin’ my hole deeper

Consumed by the darkness.


Look what we’ve done.

I would blame you, it takes two.

I stand before my crossroads.

It’s not much surrounding.


Suddenly this sand turned to sea,

And now I’m staring into the horizon

drowning in the ocean.


My most sacred place

is the beach.

I’m leaning towards the right.


Fear is mocking me,

Honesty is trynna bargain with me,

Lust is taunting,

Memories are interrupting,


Why is Love testing me?


I lift my hand to pick you up when you were down,

I never cheated.

I did my homework, tried learning everything about you that I didn’t know,

When the questions were proposed, there was no research needed.

The pieces about you, are the notes that fill in many of my notebooks.


I was a student in this lesson of love.


I guess we’ve failed the final.

I’m more upset, because I thought it was just a midterm,

Until you said,

” Fuck it, I Never Actually Loved”, anyways…

and that was FINAL.


Sitting at this crossroad.

I’ve been thinking about you.

That’s how I know things changed,

Because I use to always think about Us…


I’ve stopped crying now.

The sun will come out tomorrow,

My conscience has quieted down.


I’ll just listen to my thoughts

until I fade into temporary unconsciousness,

Waking up tomorrow with a smile full of pain,

but shinning bright with denial.



My First KIss

I released the anger and re-embraced forgiveness.
I thought I had regrets, but it was only my spite poisoning my feelings.
Lies left me feigning…
I feed off emotions and reactions, it’s hard to leave the hand that feeds you.
Dessert for thought,
But the truth was too bitter for my tasting.
Maybe because I’ve never been served on a dish so cold.
It froze my throat and numbed my tongue.
It burned my eyes and pierced my ears.
But with this food for thought, I had no tears to quench my thirst.
I had been refreshed by the satisfaction of my own growth.

To think back I thought:

I would have rather my sheets bleed ink, than to be drenched from my eyes leaking.

I would have rather a cat caught my tongue, than to stand out as obvious as the elephant in the room, and bring the truth to my own attention.

I would have rather been loved under controlled conditions than to be loved unconditionally.


My heart was blind.
Walking a narrow path of broken promises and missing bricks from the foundation.
My mind has grown weary from trying to chase the thoughts of love constantly off that path.

So Finally,
My mind convinced my heart to focus on myself.
And the heart I thought was nonexistent started pumping warm blood again.
My white blood cells were no longer white lies, and I could smile again.

It told my stomach it was okay to eat,
because it’ll no longer have to ingest that bullshit.

My conscience came from the back to the front, and then I realized..
Well maybe that’s why my foreheads so big.
Because my conscience is always present, and it’s impossible to hide it.

In conclusion:

Love is Blind & Ignorance is Bliss.

Finally, I have experienced my first kiss…

Life begins when you realize your mistakes and not only learn from them, but apply the knowledge, maturation, courage and strength that you’ve learned and use that become a better person. Not for anyone, but for yourself because if your not happy with yourself, you can shouldn’t ever expect to be happy with someone else.

Forgive, Love, Live, and Laugh..

Yes pain maybe Intimidating and love may seem ruthless, but pain from love is only temporary, and the love for life brings infinite happiness. That happiness will feel even better than you thought it’d be, because of that pain you have endured.



Killer Instinct

Love letter from the pen

This is self imprisonment

Murder she wrote

She was given life sentences.

The sentence of her life,

She was in a search for words,

Definitely changing the definition of a…

Poets Ambition.

She said

Fuck It

Plead Guilty


Executed Her Feelings.


This is Murder She Wrote.


Her Autobiography printed along the walls of

Death Row.


Darkness her twisted fantasy.

Phantoms of her Poetic Bloodline

Graced her Nightmares.


Reliving the replacement of her virginity

The first time she held the lead in her palms,

And burned pages pages and pages,


all that shown in the dim light of the burning paper

Were Psalms.


Murder She Wrote


She longed to relive that moment.

Because if nostalgia granted time travel,

She wouldn’t have put the steel down.

She would allow herself to get blasted,

With all hope of becoming impregnated.

So that she could give birth to an Iron Man,

Because Sheroes are seldom.


Unable to rewrite her-story, nor his

instead she put her life into

scripting the future of another.

The child inside of her.


Whom when born,

Was put on the scale of justice

Which ego made an imbalance

and was soon pronounced

Still Born,

because nobody took the time to listen.


Murder They Wrote.



She roams the hollow halls of Death Row,


She herself is prison.

Handcuffed, Paper cut, and Influenced.


Little light shines in these 4 chambers.

Her soul has lost mates and cells.

There is only room for one,

One Mad Poet.


Loneliness left to tease her muses,

Amused by the thought of Freedom,

She executes laughter and embellished insanity.


With her silver bladed tongue,

She belittled the value of silence,

Pain to her was now a penny,



Murder She Spoke


She rose,

Looked in her fragmented mirror,

Into her pupils and asked,

Who Taught You to Hate Yourself?




The Grand Exit

The last time I remember you; I saw your body sideways leaving out the door.

Last night still had my mind in a daze; I’m sitting up this morning in my bed remembering the days you remembered me.

When the nights went into the mornings; it was clear to me that this love was Satan’s miracle.

I loved the hell out of you, now Ive met my pinnacle.

Those lips smiled, those pearly gates parted, and out crept the blues

You missed me didn’t you?”

Feeling like the drum getting played in this solo.

Meaning you were never present for today’s, but I could always count on you for “couldn’t waits”.

Waiting for your call; do you really wonder why I am up so late? I contemplate.

Why must these trees and these lakes of liquor complicate things?

Standing in the shower wishing it’d bring the heat, and rain harder.

That the radio and the water would some how create thunder, and electrify my spirit –

Free Me.

From this being I love to be in me, but cant stand being apart of.

That’s not love. That’s not lust. Was there really never any trust?

This relationship has rusted. Quickly we are sinking.

Me deeply and you wallow in the shallow end.

But I still pretend that we’re just friends, with the benefits of exercising passion.

So as I am laying here watching you walk out;

Like damn Y? X is the reason.

Seasons change. Feelings stay the same, except this time…

I am the one leaving.



The Last Time

Last time I saw you, I saw me.  Lately I’ve been looking in the mirror, and this caged bird is now free. Freedom slips my mind; sometimes I sing a little off key. Overcoming stage fright–hit the lights please. I want them to see my message by reason darkness.

What they thinking are nightmares, just a city girls dreams. This empathy has this piece I’m writing mirroring me. A victim of split personality. Trying to divide the thoughts and subtract the feelings.


Bring upon Confusion…


When I see you again, finally I feel empty like the glass you left me with, that I threw against the wall. Except when it hit the ground it didn’t break, but out spilled every memory.


Can you feel what I feel, when I feel what I’m feeling? You shouldn’t because I’m numb. Selfishly selfless; although I never cared for any other than myself. What should i have done? I was helpless!

The next time I saw you, I saw me swimming in my tears, a shellfish. Beyond this course exterior, I am a jewel waiting to be made a necklace.

Then I remembered that I forgot. Recuperating flesh wounds with internal bleeding; often I find myself hiding in my feelings. I forgot that I remember.


So the next time I saw him– posture immaculate, a smile moonlit in a dim mind, eyes seductive, with his arms wide. He thrust his hands upon my hips, and squeezed me until his spirit made my soul cry.


Now I can’t even fathom what you look like.