The Giving Tree

The spine is a trunk.
The nerves are vines, draping insides of beings like sound-walls.
Meditation is the freeway to higher learning, of self.
A portal.
This truth is no pyramid scheme;
Judge taste – not people.
Leaves fall resembling coin filled wishes, to the bottom of a pond.
Whose depths are more than seen on surface.
We are all flowers.
The branches of energy are
fruitful, delicate, and sometimes blemished.
Mother’s of the sun birth daughters of stars, with crescent eyes.
Upheld by Orion.
Their voices mocking Little Walter;
Singing blues to the blacks, browns, and all bands of color.
Harmoniously their cries spawn tides, expunging identities.
There is peace lodged in the throats of mutes.
Yoga is poetry in the form sign language.
Exchanging idioms between flexibility and endurance.
This Being –
Firm like a mountain, pose
Still like a tree, yet
a Warrior soul.


Someone to Scream for

Someone scream for the little girl inside of her.


Mothering everyone’s problems.


Yearning to be held by her own, and switch back the roles.


Life has never been easy.


She witnessed a life of rage.

Endured every form of abuse.

And is now her own emotional slave.


Someone scream for the woman she’ll grow to be.


3 little pigs, life doesn’t knock like the wolves, it continues to blow down houses but her foundation is strong.


She houses all the issues, she replaces their dirty laundry with clean clothes. As she tries forcefully feed them gentle honesty.


The little engine that could, pride and determination pushing her through college.


Someone scream for the wife, she will later become.


A heart filled with aches and stitches.

A nose accustom to uncensored scent of bullshit.

Emotions used for pleasure and ignored through pain.

Still she is enriched with hope, making sure no ill will is accompanying her.


Someone scream for the mother in the sister she’s always provided.


She’s just trying to find her self and profess good examples.

Allow them to recognize that she encounters obstacles daily.

Even through all the stress, she puts time away to listen.


Someone scream for the daughter she is.


This apple has grown beautifully, because of her family tree.

And although it may not fall far from the tree, she rolls and explores the grass engraving her own path.


Someone scream for the friend in her.


She’s building walls, while they’re caring less.

Allow her to acknowledge the ones around her are replacing each brick with trust.

That if she falls off her ladder, she recognizes the ones that catch her, before she falls, and if they miss….

Aid in cleaning her up.


Someone scream for this young lady, because she can’t seem to do it herself.

She has been so busy screaming for everyone else, she lost her voice, and her lost breath….


So scream to comfort her —

on her mission to find herself.