This is a tough conversation to have. Mothers are special people. They give you the gift of life, They teach you so much growing up and do it to the best of their knowledge. But so many of them, especially in the black and Latino community are toxic. they don’t give you a voice, are
Love from the root, all the way to the treetop. The very feeling of Black love is in its core a natural phenomenon. The dedication to one another to grow, the need to fight oppression, the need to create, to love, to live, to learn There is something about black love that is so massive,
I’m a hopeless creative because when I think that I’ve made it I’m reminded by the world that I haven’t changed shit I’m a hopeless creative because when I get stuck in this mayhem The universe aligns perfectly and spits out my new initiative I’m a hopeless creative because I can generate thoughts That birth
You ever feel the flavor in black art? The wonderful magic that comes with collaborating style, Substance, pain, culture and pure raw energy? You ever see the coconut oil and curling creams emancipating themselves From hair, as it stands out in permeates good vibes into the air of a black person? Have you ever seen
I can feel it creeping in… That darkness, the pure form of doubt I can feel it scratching at the walls of this layered house I designed to keep it out, but the Clouds of doubt block the sun And are creeping through every crevasse Attempting to shroud my thoughts with pain and suffering Planning
The way that rubber ball hits the sleek hardwood floor… The sweet soliloquy of life The sheer symphony of the muse that devastates the room and leaves all watching in awe. There is nothing more sweet, nothing more present Nothing more magical than when that ball goes into the rim. That is life, that is
I have a healing relationship with losing It’s funny right? The concept of having a good relationship with losing? Who does that? Most people hate losing, They hate the feeling They despise feeling like they hadn’t accomplished something Me, I’m a contrary nigga Losses an I are best friends We play, we chill, we know
What would you do, if you knew the date of your last day? The exact moment of your execution? Would you pray? What would you think of? What would you try to change? Would you try to reconcile with all those whose lives you tainted? If you knew the exact time and day of your
Fail forward, Fail awkwardly on your face, pick it up off the floor, Never give up, never settle, Fight hard for what you believe in. Fail forward, make mistakes Carve your path out through Scabs and scars, Alleviate the pressure through progress Bet On yourself Arise, Sell yourself, achieve what you believe in Through hard
Thank you, For shedding light in the darkest times, For running towards the gates of hate Knowing the love you brought could be devoured by its pain Thank you, for being the vanguard of justice For dreaming of greater pastures, And setting the stones meant to lead to The path of their conjuring Thank you,
