Tag Archives: Spoken Word

Felt

Sometimes the chords in your throat 

have not yet found the notes to play 

the thoughts lingering in your soul.

And sometimes the words are too heavy, 

and your tongue does not yet have 

the strength to carry them out.

And that is okay.

Silence is okay.

Some things are meant to be felt, 

not spoken.


It Was You

Truth is deeper than answers.

Are you a whore?

A thief?

Or a product of a broken home where love was just an Imagination in the hands of a father’s Temptation to leave. 

His seeds now only watered by a Mother’s sweat and tears from years of having no Son to lift the burden of floods that have unearthed our ancestors graves. 

Slaves to a system of oppression that only finds us worthy in courts. Golden State or State Penitentiary. Different, or equal to bloodstained cotton that clothed Caramel children. 

Cacao beans are too bitter to taste, so we add milk and sugar in hopes that sweetness can erase the pain, dilute the hate. 

But I prefer my coffee black.

Black as the space between my roots and petals. A place that’s filled with unanswered questions, and suggestions of distant leaders whose spirits are still screaming for freedom. 

Why are we still chained? 

Why are we still caged?

And who swallowed the key?

It was you.

Yes.

You.

Now spit it out. 


Muse

​I found her covered in open wounds, that were bandaged with insecurities. 

The pain of the past often bleeds out in shouts, and tears of the soul that judge what my intentions were about. 

False thoughts that are caught, but never grasped. 

You see.. Love is a task, that we often treat as a hassle. Conditioned to believe it is conceived from princesses, and castles. 

But Disney is fiction, and I’m afraid you don’t comprehend the diction in which my actions speak. 

A war that I may be destined to lose, because my heart is marked as the enemy, when it’s fighting to beat for you. 

Will this ship ever reach the shore? Because we need solid foundations. And I need you to see that the dirt on my hands is from me planting seeds, in hopes that we will grow. 

Are we a flower that sprouts on a warm day in the middle of winter? 

Right place, wrong time. 

And as I read between these lines, maybe it’s my ego holding you for this art, not my heart. 

Maybe you were right.


Dawn

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You’re the proof that angels are real.  Wings that not only shield, but inspire me to soar higher. I pray to attain shoulders as strong as yours, and a spirit that’s as humble.

Black, Woman.

In a world that dishonors its Mother, I’m in awe of your wonder. Thriving no matter where you’re planted, even in the most unfavorable conditions, you can’t be uprooted. Beautiful flower, your presence is a blessing I too often forget to thank the heavens for.

I couldn’t have asked God for a more glorious dawn.

Happy Mothers Day, Ma.

To: Wendi Nichols Gregory


Soul Atlas

I’m just trying to grow fruits to honor my roots. Ancestors were planted in different lands, molded by different hands. But the Truth stands, One Spirit resides within.

Some will make me an enemy, because I don’t choose friends. Peacemaker, no matter the skin shade, or religion, we were all crafted with precision. No ideology, it’s Love I’m following.

From Madagascar, to Scotland. America to Africa, slave owner to freedman, indigenous to explorer. The blood in my veins sees them as all the same. Different stories, binded in the same book, my looks are just the cover.

I had to search my soul to discover why I couldn’t choose a side. Genetically modified, the remains of my origins sleeps in different graves. Yet through me their spirit is awake. I am intricately sewn from different fabrics, so that they may finally exist in One Peace.


Beautiful

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Enemies all around, unaware of how they’ve injured me. But within resides a greater entity. In the world there are more additions than subtractions, trying to deter me from my mission. Like David, I’ve got the chance to kill, but I rather do His will. That’s why mercy is my answer, to the evil thats running rampant like cancer. They’re waiting for me to fall, but don’t they know that they’re beautiful?

Many times I have stumbled, journeying through this jungle. Resenting every rock, and storm that’s come my way. Until I realized it is You who creates all the paths that I take. Every scrape, every bruise, preparing me to be used. Every hurt, and barren desert, creating a thirst that can only be quenched by Living Water. For Dead Seas cant deliver enough lost scrolls to help find You. To my spirit you speak, with a voice so powerfully gentle, I find strength where I am weak. Though I fall, you remind me that I’m beautiful.

A love so unique, arms so outstretched, I have no choice but to run into Your chest. A grace so deep, faithfulness so wide, no matter where I turn it is within You that I reside. You’ve given clear vision to these eyes, that I may see my enemies, as You see me. Beautiful, so beautiful.

Flowers longing to be watered. Birds with dreams to fly. Weeping souls, desiring to live and not die. Children trapped in adult bodies, still broken from the pain of their youth. Misunderstood outcasts, wondering if they have a purpose, any use.

Oh God, if they only knew You. That in Your image they were molded, that their existence makes them chosen, to behold the Son that has risen, to cast out darkness, and remove us from this prison. To bring Truth to our hearts, that are so often deceived to believe that we have to work to receive the love of a self- sufficient Being.

Beautiful, yeah you, you’re beautiful.


Life

christophermartinphotography.com

christophermartinphotography.com

As I view the dark clouds being carried in by the wind

I wonder what distant lands they traversed

Which fish lost some of its home

Who’s shade they provided from the sun’s rays

How pure they must have been in the beginning

Before existence filled them with unasked for duties

How heavy they look now, filled with burdens

Grumbling, it seems, as they enter in

Their strength must have shattered, or pride laid to the side

As their burdens begin to fall

What a gift their tears are, to all who catch them

Such a sacrifice, to carry pain, in order to give

Life

“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.” – Job 12:7-10