He Said, She Said.

With averted eyes and a quiet voice, I am not quick to respond with my career of choice.

For I fear judgment, disappointment. For I fear the look on one’s face of dissatisfaction.

Dissatisfaction with the choices I make. Dissatisfaction with the path I desire to take.

As I stare at the ceiling I think about what he said, a slither of our conversation lingers in my head.

“Are you concerned with what others think?”

To which I replied a quiet, “yes”.

“Well, why? You seem to have all the necessary ingredients for success.”

Short, and meaningful the conversation lingers in my head from wake to sleep I think about the line he so profoundly said.

Of course, I start to wonder, why do I care what people think?

Yearning for approval all hours of the day. Wanting a look, or a stamp of things are going to be okay.

After this conversation, regular daily growth, I understood the only person’s approval I need is my own.

For me, myself and I, we all wake up together.

For me, myself and I, we all fall to slumber together.

So who are you to judge me, when you only know half the truth?

Remember loves, no one can question or judge you, but you.


They call me crazy.

Crazy when I laugh, crazy when I cry.

Crazy after nights of three hour sleeps and I’m tired.

Crazy if I walk on the streets without a smile.

Crazy if I’m so happy my heart pumps 9000 beats a minute.

Crazy if I’m passionate.

Crazy if I fear being adequate.

They call me crazy.

Crazy for reacting after 2 years and 6 months of verbal abuse.

Crazy for speaking about the bounds over which my ancestors leaped.

Crazy for promoting peace, feminism, love.

Crazy for believing lesbians and gays deserve equal rights.

Crazy for wanting a better life for myself, and the people that surround me.

They call me crazy.

They call you, he, she, we crazy.

They called Michael crazy. Janet too.

Speilberg. Crazy. Marilyn. Crazy.

Charles Darwin. Walt Disney. Oprah Winfrey.

So when they call you crazy.

Smile back, deep breath, you’re in good company.

Not Just Me

Among one million people I was free. Tonight on this earth I realized it is not just me. Not just me who feels alone. At times longs for someone to hold.

Not just me who thinks about past times. Reflects on once upon a times. 

Not just me who frets the futures path, not just worries about potential wrath. 

Not just just me who cries when things aren't grand.

Not just me who looks at at the sky, thanking God for everything that is life. 

Not just me who ponders why, we come and go to end up dead.

Not just me who sees in green, pink, red, blue, orange and all things rainbow.

Not just me who feels holistically.

Not just me.  Always we.


Johnny meets his dealer every Sunday, he always needs the high. Johnny wants a way to escape from what he calls his every day life.

He never knew his father, refused to utter," mom", he never felt the love one gets when one enters their own home. 

Johnny always told me, he wished he was like me. He wished that he was fortunate, he wished he could reach his dreams. 

Johnny cried himself to sleep, when he could not find food at night. 

No matter how hard Johnny tried he could not find some light. 

So Johnny turned to dust, and blow, just about every evening. 

A way to get away, soon transformed into addiction. 

An addiction to a fantasy, a bliss, a nonexistent place. 

When I think back to when he was he. I remember the things he said to me. 

He told me he was envious of all the the blessings given, to me a by a God in which our sight is forbidden. 

He told me I was beautiful, intelligent, and loved. Three things he felt were out of reach ,for someone from where he was from. 

Looking back upon those honest words, I treasure Johnny more and more. 

I treasure all the gold and trinkets external and in within my soul.

So when you're no longer on top and you're breath is drenched in pity. 

Please take time to remember all of the things Johnny said to me. 



Eyes closed, heart open, summer nights have approached me.

There is something about youth that screams come and hope with me.

There is something about you that screams memories lie within me.

As the sun touches my skin, my mind begins to settle.

My heart is touched, and suddenly I am extremely grateful.

Grateful for the heartache.

Grateful for lost causes.

Grateful for caretakers.

Grateful for life's lessons.

Grateful for my truth.

Grateful for my mind.

Grateful for the ones I love even if their love has subsided.

Grateful I am here today.

Grateful for all I have.

Grateful for the gratefulness that has been dealt to me by his hand.

Dear Old Me

Looking into the mirror is a struggle for you right now.

Getting them to like you is your priority.

Your dreams are a mere representation of ideas you believe will not manifest into a reality.

Insecurity eats you alive, self doubt eats you alive, fear eats you alive.

You're currently worried. You are so worried that you have become frozen.

However, you must not worry, for one day you will wake and understand your dreams are attainable.

My love you will realize your fears are irrational.

For you are a gem, in a world full of rocks.

In a world full of mimics, you represent the trailblazer.

I can see your future.

Life will get darker, but you will learn how to light your own path.

They will continue to whisper, but you will learn the green monster lingers within their souls.

Your dreams will still frighten you, but you will realize you are painting your masterpiece.

When you are frozen, love will melt you back to life.

The insecurity you harbor will not consume you. Instead you will consume the insecurity.

Between you and me. The only thing stopping you?

You and me.

Words Unspoken

Words unspoken are like an unborn child, never touched, never knowing what it is like in the world

Angie was twenty and she was in love, her best friend the one who had given her the bug

Little did Angie know Brian was in love to, whenever he was in trouble, he thought, what would Angie say or do

Neither of them knowing stayed quiet under blankets of fear

Forever scared of rejection, forever scared of pain

Ten years later Angie sits quiet reminiscing about her old friend Brian

Brian was no longer with her for he, had died in a car crash at age twenty three

Angie was engaged, and pregnant as well

However her new lover could never compare, to her first love, young Brian with the ginger hair

If only she wondered, I had kissed him quick, could things have been different? Would he be with me?

The story is a lesson, told in a harsh way

Reminding all people to speak up today

Speak loudly about your dreams, aspirations and hopes

Fear not what people think, but fear your words unspoken


Whispers, endless whispers.

All I hear are whispers.

As they try to figure out who I am.

As they try to figure out what I am.

She calls me a genius.

He called me a fraud.

He claimed I resembled a piglet.

He said my beauty was five miles long.

She said I was a simple girl.

She deemed me a conundrum.

He laughed calling me "silly girl".

Unlike the last one.

He said I was a wholesome girl.

She said I was a wild one.

She thought I was the jealous type.

He viewed me as a sure one.

Whispers in the air.

Whispers in my ear.

Whispers in my brain.

All that they is accurate, therefore, I can't complain.

For all I am, is all I say, a walking contradiction.

The finest of the finest wines.

A consistent, persistent development.

On Mondays, I am ready to learn.

By Friday, eyes are tired.

Friday nights, my eyes twinkle with glitter.

Sunday mornings, makeup free.

With my friends, simple not quiet.

With a stranger, attempts at fearlessness.

Different day, different story.

Different day, same girl.

Same girl, 2000 personas.

Each and everyone a part of me.

A Poem For You

You are a fraud.

You are a liar.

You are uncomfortable in your own skin.

You are not able to withstand the pressures that come along with your personal evolution.

You walk around with fear in your eyes.

You are scared of being who you are supposed to be.

You base your value on superficial things like a number on a test paper.

You base your value on superficial things like the people you hang around.

You want to be admired.

You are desperate to fit in.

You are so desperate to fit in that you have shattered all your morals.

Your morals have become nonexistent.

You are so insecure that jealousy has taken over your being.

You are so uncomfortable because something I just said aligns with your daily thought process.

You are uncomfortable because in one way or another I just described you.

Now you are subconscious.

Now you are concerned.

You start to ask yourself questions.

Who have I become?

Am I the person being described?

You feel regret, you feel nauseous, you feel alone.

Alone is a feeling that you and I know all too well.

Alone can feel like heartbreak.

Alone can feel bitter.

Alone can feel like all of your problems being presented before you, as you lay in silence.

Alone can feel heavy.

Alone can feel overbearing.

Alone does not equal finished.

Alone does not equate to your demise.

Alone means you are alive.

Alone means you are making progress.

Alone means you are full of potential.

Alone means you have time.

Alone means you still have time to find your passion.

Alone means you still have time find yourself.

Alone means you have so much more in store.

Alone means hope.

Alone means you have a long journey ahead of you.

Alone means you are human.

Alone does not mean loser.

Alone does not mean lonely.