the individualistic freedom poured hunger into my eyes. the realm of possibility revealed in me the free-spirited heroine who once lived in the shadow of isolation. so I played by my own rules. and the endlessly mad but passionate lifestyle chewed up and spit out the mid-September girl. I later
I find you in very common places. I see you around nowhere special. Sometimes it’s while I’m in-between, while I’m just passing by. Sometimes you are a blur to me. We cross paths as I’m coming home from a space where we think, talk and pray about ones like you.
For my past, present, future and nothing more or no one else I battle the war within of dysfunctional beauty and hopeful wounds the things people have told me the things I’ve hidden inside of me I cry out loud praying for a break in the cycle I laugh out
Spoken word, written summer 2017 What it means to be Native has evolved I’m rehabilitative you will recall being so derogative I have dissolved your control your authorities your goal and your priorities Within the stitches that you sew into the front pocket of a pattern you borrowed comes the
Spoken word poem, written July 2012 I sit to write out the revelation to start coversations on the bodily invasions of girls men use to cure sexual frustrations The two boys in the stories that I mention saw me as a girl without protection they used their erection and looked