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Bad Girl

Ok…I kind of cheated and skipped a day in the 30 days of NaPoWriMo.  I really didn’t mean to but I was sooooo in my feelings yesterday that I couldn’t bring myself to post a poem.  I knew I would just drain all my energy by posting some sappy love poem.  I just didn’t want to bring my mood down any further.  But the show must go on…so this is the 2nd poem I am posting today to make up for yesterday..

Oh its kind of old but..who cares

Chicks hatin on me..duplicating my style..emulating me

Don’t let these Gucci shades fool you sista girl

These same shades hide the eyes that guides the path down to my soul

where you’ll find my own insecurities.

I used to pretend to be someone I was not

only not to be forgotten by the ones I admired so much

Now my eyes are open wide shut

while I sit blinded by the smoke that fills the room

that I sit in trying to find myself

by day I’m super mom, super employee, super sister and super friend

but by night, I’m super lonely

trying to sort through my problems within.

I hide behind my natural appearance.

The $4000 smile I wear plastered on a face that’s exfoliated daily

is only a facade

For if the face showed what the heart really felt

it wouldn’t be pretty at all.

so instead of you seeing the real me

I exude confidence

sporting my natural fro

my face holds a natural glow

and I’m juicy from my lips to my baby toe

And while Cash Rules Everything Around Me

I strut through the airport pulling my Gucci luggage

boarding a plane to an illusion.

I step outside myself to become someone else

as this saga gets more confusing

I watch you as you watch me

but your perception is unparallelled to my reality.


Chada Boom

July 18, 2005


This poem was written at a time when I was all hindsight.  Many people (as they still do) don’t understand that despite the fact that I appear to have it all together, much of it is still a facade.  The true representation of me as a person…as a woman can only be evaluated with direct interactions with me.  The me you see as a passerby is not the ME my friends know.  Nor is it the same me you’ll see in our intimate moments.  I may look like I have it ALL together and ALL figured out but at the end of the day..I take my makeup off.  In the mornings I am no different….I put my panties on 1 leg at a time.  I get emotional.  I breakdown.  I laugh and cry (sometimes at the same damn time).  I fuss and (close your ears mom) cuss when I’m angry.  I speak with my hands when I am passionate about something.  If I love you..I mean LOVE you..LOVE you..then I love hard.  These are the ends and outs of me.  So don’t let one experience with me determine that you KNOW me.  Truthfully, I’m layered. 





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GUESS WHAT!!?? It’s NaPoWriMo…

And ex-pe-al-i-do-cious to you too.  Well if the title confused you even the slightest bit that was kind of the point.  NaPoWriMo stands for National Poetry Writing Month…and this is happening all month long.  So while you get geared up to play your little April Fool’s Day pranks on unsuspecting folks, or while you prepare for the Easter season or (for those who are familiar) 4/20 Day…let us not forget about National Poetry Writing Month!!!!

I love poetry…I write poetry (although many don’t know that)…I read poetry…I attend venues where poets pour their lives out into the crowd.  I graduated from a school named after a famous poet.  I dream of poems.  I freestyle poems in the shower.  In the car.  In line at the grocery store.  What can I say…I JUST LOVE POETRY!!!!  So in light of NaPoWriMo I am going to (please help me!!) post a poem everyday for the month of April.  Most of the poems will be my own (and in the words of Eryka Badu…keep in mind I’m an artist..and I’m sensitive about my ish) but if you want in on the action send me an email ( and I will try and post it.  And of course feel free to leave a comment. So with that said…check this out.

I used to twirl my hair

but, through school yard fences and storefront windows,

the twirl had attracted the eyes.

And to my surprise the twirl had been more than that.

The twirl had become the symbol of all things beyond my scope.

Shooting past my child-like comprehension into grownup worlds where a twirl is not just a twirl.

It is an expression of womanhood meant to only be displayed when boundaries are breaking.

But to me; it was just a twirl.

Perhaps spawned from the need to see beyond the fallen loc that covers my eyes when my head swivels.

To was just a twirl.  Not the invitation it had become.

Just beyond the height of the day

in shorts the size of yesterday

while inhaling the sweet heat of the summer.

He had taken notice.

Face pressed against cold red brick.

Dirty hand covers face.

Stifles scream.

Too short shorts pulled forcefully to the side.

Raw wet mouth.  Innocence stolen.

There on the stoop, you stood…

twirling your locs.

Enticing me, arousing a fire deep.

Engulfed in a rage of fury I ravaged against you.

Oh Temptress

Darling Sweet.

Precious gem.  I watched you.

Twirl girl.  Twirl girl.

I cried,

he enjoyed his pleasure.

Written in the words he spewed.

Death creeping in my soul.

This mornings meal rest in my throat.

I was hot.  Made mute on purpose.

Prisoner. Trapped.

Bad juju vibe today.

Felt it while dressing in last years wear.

Body outgrew them long before now.

Tongue on face.

I die in this moment.

It is there, the ever present fallen loc.

A reminder of his desire.

Chada Boom

21 Dec 13