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I Am From

10/5/2017

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I am from sunshine and palm trees
And Hiawassee orange groves.
 
I am from fish fries
And BBQ's for all and any occasion.
I am from chitlin' and grits
And meats gravy smothered.
 
I am from migrant work
And housekeepers
And first-generation college complete.
I am from Clara and Walter's dream
Integrating FTU aka UCF
Traveling from Black populated Orange Center
To suburban Pine Hills: year 1973.
 
I am from a King with a vision
An X with an agenda
An Angelou with a song.
 
I am from a family branch
Sprouting from a deep cultural heritage tree
Bearing fruit that must be passed on.


Picture
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He Got Me

10/5/2017

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he got me.  Again
talkin smooth words and sweet nothins
whisperin bout all what makes him different.
He be a real man
Commitment-bound, forever-sound
In the type of love he like to give.
He lookin for a woman
Just.  Like.  Me.
Independent.  Outspoken.  Confident.
Cause I'm past-written
But future-defined.
Oh wait and I mustn't forget
Can I get a ring size, he says
And I, foolishly, let my heart trip
Just a little.
Yeah, I got all caught up in thinking
Is he the one?
Please, God, let him be the one.
Oh, he was the one all right,
Lyin bastard.
He turn out to be
Just. Like. Them.
Men who made—I'd never—promises.
I'd never leave you, hurt you,
Be like the rest.
I'd never promises filled with nothin but lies
Singin songs like
Why women act like all men the same
Cause see, I'm different, he says.
Yeah, he mighta walked in different
But his ass looked real familiar when he left.
I'll admit.
he got me. Real. Good.
Reminding me that even the smartest woman
Can be played a fool.
Again.

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Dear You

10/5/2017

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Today, I went down to the Hudson River
And gazed at Manhattan from the
Jersey City side.
 
See,
I stopped so I could write you a letter
Hoping I wrote you into existence.
A letter where I thanked you
For being my best friend
Because you talk feelings
and you listen with heart.
Needing me to understand
That you care, for me,
For my best interests,
For my dreams,
For the person that I am
And then I thanked you
For being my lover,
For knowing just how
To stroke me into making
Those noises that you like
Knowing just how to wrap me tight
In satisfaction so no man
Came before you 
And after you
​will never exist.

 
And I just kept on writing,
Sitting there at the river side
Gazing on the city where dreamers
Come for life and I
Thanked you again
For being MY man.
For writing your name
On my heart
And signing me done
With your entry into my life.
For taking me from high
To higher peaks.
 
With a shaky hand
And trembling breath
I wrote thank you
Again and again
As I looked into what
My future with you would be
Cause I realized just
How big GOD must love me.
 
Today, I went down to the Hudson River
And gazed at Manhattan from the
Jersey City side
And prayed you into existence
Cause no matter how little
I feel against the world
I walk into your life
At center status.
No matter how low I stand
On the steps of life
I am elevated in your eyes
And by your standards.
 
So I write my letter of thank you.
Thank you for easing me into love
For lighting my waking moments
And smiling in my dreams.
Thank you for holding me
So that I could hold you in return.
Thank you for giving me back the heart
To feel,
The need to touch,
The desire to be everything you
Told GOD you need.
Thank you for allowing me the chance
To love you
As beautifully and deeply
As you love me.
Thank you for being the one
For me
And being ready enough
To see
That I’m the one for you.

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Ready, Set

10/5/2017

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Picture
I’m ready to throw my arms out, close my eyes,
And leap into the moonlight
Dancing like the brightest rays of sun
“hot to trot” but riding on a cool breeze.
Imagine me, finding a unique rhythm
Strumming my very own New York beat, Florida style of course.
Taking on the world
And rewriting it with a chapter of me.
Tasha—born a champion
But humbled to serve a true queen.
Lord help us all cause
I wanna toss my head back
And sing a pretty awful tune
About it feelin a lot like my time
To rise with the height and longevity
--that’s king’s word--
Of a pyramid from ancient times.
Man, I feel like “dancing and singin
And movin to the grooving”
Cause I feel the poem at my fingertips
The story sittin on the tip of my tongue
Getting me ready for the Hallelujah shout.
See, I told you, my time has come.
I’m not saying you gotta move aside
Cause black folk never stand on the stage alone
But understand that when I say
I’m ready to throw my arms out
And close my eyes
It’s cause I’m about to take off
Spread my writing wings and fly.

​
​




​


​

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Me Defined

10/5/2017

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Who am I?
Well, let me put it in ways you’ll understand.
I am a writer
Rising from the depths of the American dream
African style.
I am the reader
With an insatiable appetite
For the words reflecting the spirit
Of my African-laid mothers and fathers.
I am a sista
Written in Black with a hint of Indian and European flavors
Blending me unique.
I am a rhythm, blue in creation
Red-hot in the midst of formation
But solid gold in the way my legacy shines.
Who am I?
You mean you still don't know.
Well, let me break it down, divide it up,
Mix it on the new, so that even by my scent
You'll measure me an ingredient--
Special.
I am the strength of slaves;
Whipped, beatin but runnin free.
I am the harvest of crops planted in blood
But sharing knowledge—wealth personified.
I am a song, renaissance-inspired
Freshly scrubbed domestic
Shoes spit-glossed to reflect a 300 year vision.
I am a—by any means necessary—dream
A Beloved, native daughter type of promised land
No longer waiting, how should I put it, to exhale
I am your past, my present, his and her future,
Written to fly even as shackles tried but failed
To damage my wings.
Who am I?
I am beyond easy words
Greater than the simple language
You might use to define me.
I am an African-influenced, female-interpreted
Proud to be hyphenated American
Mother of nations
Nurturer of dreams
Sojourner of truth
Deliverer of tubman's freedom
Bookin on a WEB train of thought
Hard to label
Not easily confined
But destined to be glorified.

​
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    LLFarmer

    Poetry came first. 

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