Posts tagged “Maya Angelou

Queen of Spies

A poem inspired by: “I Know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly” & “Harriet the Spy”

RIP to the queen of spies (the one who told the truest lies)


Most beautiful when she didn’t have her cigarette, Maya, was the kindest person I ever met!

The Queen who spied was the same when the sun rose and when the sun set; not a liar at all if I had to make a bet


Don’t know for sure if everything I heard is fact or just a story


I wish I were lie detector… Where the hell is Maury?

I’ll tell you what happened to the Notorious Q.O.S (Queen of Spies) and try my best to explain this mess


I’ll tell you all about the day she died, it might make you cry or her demise might go over your head, it might just pass you by…


…if you let it.


Some say, on the third day, when God said “Let there be light” Maya was there, looking over God’s shoulder


From the vast seas, to grassy plains, to huge mountain boulders

She was there, and writing too, saw colors that filled the sky before the creator decided on blue

There she was writing all about God’s creations, witnessed the formation of every nation, before everyone became anyone this someone came and this someone knew


Maya was there to see the world sparkle, she got the first look, describing all of the world’s glory in her little book; how didn’t she run out of pages trying to describe how lit everything looked?

I wish she could tell me about the sun, and how she sat and watched the huge burning star grow; I want to hear all about the huge celebration she helped the angels throw


Alas, the world’s oldest notebook(s), which is how it all started; so many pages filled with words, sweet, yet tarted


They say Maya-ette, with her cigarette, wrote a story and made Jesus weep; wrote into the souls of men and with the flick of her pen she could change reality…

She knew why the caged bird sang, why children were really afraid of clowns, visited the black utopia, witnessed the Queen of England crack a smile, heard she greeted the Pope at the Vatican with a “My Nigga,” and laughed as he frowned…


Dubbed a “liar,” she wanted to hide the book deep inside her


Protecting her secrets all while keeping a level head

She could have shared her knowledge but decided to consume it all instead


I believe she recorded the truth, some say it was all lies, but now we’ll never know who really shot Malcolm, Martin, Kennedy, who ran down the Princess…or if Tupac is dead or alive


All because Maya decided to fill up her tummy; she ate all her secrets like they were yummy


Page by page she tore up the notebook and ate it away

I hate to spread rumors and gossip but this was a crazy day


I’ll never forget how the neighborhood just stood by and watched as Maya faded away…


Maya-ette, with her cigarette, the only living being knowing the world’s biggest secret


To the end of the earth she traveled and then she went way beneath it…


What she wrote throughout her journey she never told a soul and finally the secrecy had taken its toll

I think she went crazy, you see, so much of the world’s mystery, all bottled up she could no longer contain them


I’ll tell you about the day that came, the rainy day full of shame, the day she decided to die than to rise to fame


A sad day when she devoured all her power, like a cake made with real sugar and real flour


Delicious, private, secret words, curry, jerked, and filled with lemon curds


But no matter how people spin it, it was her own private notebook (no matter what was assumed to be in it)

First, just let me say, RIP to the queen of spies!


Here’s how she met her demise:

The Queen of spies, now permanently living in the skies, kept a notebook to write what she felt inside and who and what she encountered when she traveled through time

She recorded the first bigfoot sighting, was the only person to touch lightning, was friends with the last living giants, she knew why the men and women who went to war would come back and be sworn to silence, she was present for the signing of the Magna Carter, she traveled throughout the galaxy, some say she visited the “farther”

Words cold as ice, her spying came with a price, pages burning like fire, she would go down in history and the world’s most honest liar

I don’t really know how she felt inside, if she wrote the truth or if it was only lies, whether she was only 23 or really 2099 all I remember is how died.

Now, I’m sad to say, there’s no one to attest if there’s really a hell or if heaven is a lifetime away, who was behind 911 or if global warming is only a hoax, and why babies are the only ones who can see ghosts…

No one really talked to the girl who ate the “lies” all we know is how well she spied, so let me tell you how she died:

Her neighbors who thought she was a living lie, got together and made a shoe fly pie, made of real shoes and real flies (hardly any real pie) and presented the terrible dessert to the Queen of spies, all while trying to steal away her “book of lies”

In one gulp she finished the pie, she licked her lips and said goodbye, you would think that was all it took, but she held onto that notebook, and left her gifters shook

Holding tight onto her notebook, day by day, if the tales of monsters and demons inside it were real, I couldn’t say, all I know is that she was a creature of habit

People-watching and writing was all she ever did, and she was a pro at keeping it all hid

Never shared how the interviews went with all the children torn from their families at the border, never mentioned the mental conditions of the lifers in prison growing older, people living their lives in their cages, so much heartbreak must’ve filled her pages

You know, she never took the credit when she convinced congressmen to raise minimum wages

Some say she saw the inside of the first bible’s pages, was there when it was written, visited the earth’s core, and touched the bottom of the deepest ocean’s floor

I heard she met the president’s president (the secret societies society), made friends aliens even married twin dwarves, read the minds of all great historians, visited the moon and finds time to comfort all of the mothers’ who’s babies are “gone too soon,”

You could tell there was something that pulled and tugged and pulled and tugged, and pulled and tugged at her

Although few really tried to, no one could ever figure out what was the matter

Always looking like she fell to the bottom of a pit, she kept a facial expression that looked like she seen some shit

The more the chatter, the more people wonder what was the matter, the more she grew nervous about what people would find

She was ridiculed, called names, but if she really knew what was being said I don’t think she’d mind…

After all, you can’t really offend someone who saw how the world would end…or the one who figured out how to make reality bend

Maya was more concerned about her writing, her truth, her stories, the one thing she had that no one could take away

Here’s how she tried to hide the spying, here’s what led to her dying, here’s why people thought her stories were only her lying, here’s to what happened that day:

 I think she knew that day would come, the day when her own people would revolt against her, not the government that controlled their lives, but a little lady deemed an enemy of the state, a state of mind, a witch of a spy who had devoured a poison pie

I heard it was all a fantasy world she created while she spied, mixed with stories of monsters and demons and spirits that dwelled inside…

They say she wrote stories to heal the pain

The pain that came each time it rained

It rained because she was so sad inside

Was what she wrote the truth or lies?

I know it was the truth, she dedicated her life to traveling and crossed many tides

RIP to the queen of Spies

So, finally, here’s exactly how she died:

She was poisoned by the shoe fly pie (the one her neighbors made filled with real shoes and real flies and hardly any pie)

Then she decided to continue eating her notebook like it was cake

I saw her swallowed down her lucky pen the one used to write about heaven and the world’s end


Then a spare, without a care, she swallowed what some say was the pen she used to record a formula to create air

It isn’t fair how quickly she ate her contact lenses and glasses, no one would ever be able to look through what she saw not even if they bought the same lashes

She swallowed down the lenses to her camera, contacts too! Oh and her glasses and her eye lashes, pens and her notebook, you would think that was all it took even after eating the shoe fly pie (the one made with real shoes and real flies) but she continued on until her last breath until she died

RIP to the QOS (Queen of Spies)!


Next, she ate her favorite pets and washed them down with her cigarette, keep reading this, I’m not done yet; I can still hear Brownie barking in her stomach, a puppy, a guppy, a snake and it’s charmer

she swallowed her lighter, and her belly grew warmer…you could see the flicker of the flame burning and shining bright from deep inside her

Then, all of a sudden, there was a huge fire, the pages she ate reacted to the lighter, that was ignited by the cigarette, I’m not done yet, the pets got sick off of the uneaten shoe fly pies that stuck to her insides, as the cigarette burned and her pets’ stomach turned Maya turned blue

The flicker of the flame grew larger the one that burned and shined bright from deep inside her…


Out from her mouth was the loudest belch with a bunch of smoke so to contain the flames she swallowed some tea (more pages from her notebook), the secrets of a brewing WWIII, the future, and more unwritten history

She swallowed a first aid kit, some antibiotics, some anti flea and tick tablets her pets; a heroic meal for her sidekicks

She ate up an umbrella for that dreary hazy day god forbid if any moisture got in her way

Call her crazy, or just remember her like that girl lazy Jane, the one would wanted a drink of water but would wait for the days it rained


Maya thought she needed a raincoat, to go with her umbrella so she swallowed that in just one gulp, she swallowed the coat to protect the “GOAT” (a spare notebook) which should’ve been all it took but she kept on eating; all while her neighbors trembled and shook…


Pages from her notebook, pens, a spare, a formula for creating air, a rain coat, an umbrella to protect the GOAT, delicious tea, secrets of a brewing WWIII, consumed and you would think this was all it took but she continued on devouring anything anyone could use to read between the lines of history books

She continued to eat everything she thought would protect her, she consumed all the things she could quickly gather and the flames from the fire grew bigger and brighter…


Throughout the grape vine, they say, she swallowed boots, that were laced, with a drug that would make her pace, that would help her digest so she could continue her race

Pressed for time she swallowed mace (just in case), what a taste, she felt herself slipping away you could tell it was written on her face

Oh dear, down went some pretty underwear, momma always said to keep a spare pair

She swallowed her savings; dollar bills and piggy bank cents, bargaining chips for the afterlife and some common incense


Where she was going next, was a world full of more nightmares than dreams…giving meaning to the phrase nothing is what it seems


They say she consumed her entire room (and in it was a special broom, she would occasionally take flight at night but no one ever caught that site), a listening piece (the one she used to spy on her niece) and she ate it all down to the wire, to secure all the juiciness and details deep inside her.

Next up a recorder that hooked up to the listening piece, her favorite laptop that stored all the chatter, that tumbled and tumbled you’d asked what’s the matter?

By this time everyone had gathered around, to see the Queen who her spied on her hometown…


They watched, then laughed as she went and swallowed her own Fingerprints, we know because she was the only one who wore henna on her fingertips


By this time everyone had pulled up, all the cars from the neighborhood, some with the darkest of window tints


Watching as Maya-ette kept going, I’m sad to drag on, but she swallowed a DNA kit/she thought that idea was lit, Promised that was it, but she was still in a pit, of nervousness, so let me continue on…


She thought her passport would keep her out of court so she went and swallowed that and her fake ID, so no one could prove her true identity


So she then ate her real license, I know you’re in suspense, so let me attempt to make this make sense


She swallowed her passport and everything else I guess to keep from going to court

Maya-ette the spy decided that wasn’t enough, she wasn’t too stuffed she huffed and the smoke puffed, after she devoured her Flash drive to really save the data you would think she was finally done.

Everyone had finally won, she sat down weighing a ton, big as a house in the middle of her street not making a peep

Quiet as a mouse she closed her eyes for a really long sleep away one by one did all the neighbors creep

It was a sad sight looking at the many pounds sitting on the ground frowns stayed upside down

Hardly anyone was looking but I saw her get very tense and with the last bit of her strength, Shoved down her throat her newest iPhone, no more social media, she was finally all alone, but not on her own on her own

She swallowed her bike she used to ride to her car

She swallowed her car but down her throat it didnt get too far


It got stuck but she kept trying and eventually it slid down with the help of some muck


Then she swallowed a gun to protect her Bike, the one she promised to return to Mike


She swallowed a Gun and that made her dizzy/ she spun, she quickly changed her name to Lizzy, still protecting her secrets til the very moment she was done


All in the effort to protect her “lies” this is how she met her demise.


Here I am, her protégé, reporting on how she died that day.


Short story made long, meaning for it to be a long story short.


I went to her grave and dug up everything and began to sort, through all the things she swallowed, through every piece of precious junk


RIP Maya-ette, I’ll miss you and your cigarette, you are gone but your mission lives on.


I’d like to reintroduce myself.

Hi, I’m the new Queen of spies.

 

 

Advertisements

“Good Girl” #SpeakUp

(An ode to good girls)

You think you’re a good girl

Good girl, who do you think you are?

You walk around smiling, always happy, you won’t get too far

See this is the “real world” niggas will eat you alive

You can’t stand tall before shrinking down to my size

You think you’re a good girl

Goodie two shoes, kinda girl

Conceited think you’re worth something kinda girl

Who told you to smile, wear your hair all wild?

Who said you could go to church on Sundays to praise your God

Good girl, you think you are

But I know the real you

Sneaky girl, you won’t get far

I know all about girls like you

I’ll play you real close

I’ll tell you I love you while I hate you

I know how to hurt you most

You act like a good girl

Good girl, you think you are

But if it’s up to me, I’ll make sure you’ll never fill the void in your heart

You’ll never learn to love yourself truly

You’ll never see those better days

I’m your negative thoughts, self-doubt, that inner hate.

If you’re not careful, I’ll be here to stay,

always.

An excerpt from “An Ode to the ‘Good Girl’” available in paperback or kindle (e-book)

I wrote a song for you #SpeakUp

You should hear the song I wrote for you

I know you never will

I think of you most nights, and it results in poems like these here

I walk up to you, see your face, I see how much you don’t care

I get so lost in your eyes

If looks could kill

Comparing love to the sea is foolish

It’s more like a swarm of honeybees

Who is really winning?

Frightening

Risky

Fast moving

But the product can heal

Even if you’re too proud

I wrote a story, starring you. I’d like for you to hear how it plays out

Even though it probably isn’t any good

I want you to listen to it because you’ll say it’s just perfect

Like I expect you would

An excerpt from “An Ode to the ‘Good Girl’” available in paperback or kindle (e-book)

An Ode to the “Good Girl” (the story behind the cover art) #AnOdetoGG

I’ve never published a book before but it has always been a huge goal of mine to do so independently.

I fought with myself over every detail until I got tired and gave into creativity; not realizing that the perfect version of my book was slowly being lost in trying to obtain perfection.

For starters, the name originally was “Seven days til life” then changed to “Blue Cherry”. I came up with the title “Good Girl” right around the time I created “Young Loud Proud” as I became devoted to spreading positivity, focusing on Black excellence and breaking stereotypes. I thought about a label I’ve been associated with and how I’ve been constantly proving otherwise. It took almost two years to decide on the final structure; my heart (and the right side of my brain) chose the official name: “An Ode to the Good Girl.”

I came to the realization that in order to achieve perfection I needed to stay true to myself and express my art exactly as I wanted to.

Before I officially came up with the title, the structure of my book was just all over the place. Did I want to tell a specific story? Did I want to mix fiction with non-fiction? Do I incorporate my own stories? Maybe. Nah…my life isn’t that exciting. Or is it?

I already think of myself as a rhyming individual so my story was already very poetic. The first three drafts of this book were not (entirely) in poetry form but it flowed very nicely that with a lot of mind power and creativity I was able to create something that reminds me of some of the books I grew up on.

Imagine Shel Silverstein and Maya Angelou’s love child that was raised by Dr. Suess and Solange who’s god mommy is Sister Soulja. You may think “Maya is the best future ghostwriter of our generation” or “what in the knock off Shakespearian Tupac do we have here??”

That was absolutely a joke but you might get that feeling when you read through this Ode. I organized a compilation of short stories I’ve written, diary entries, poems, raps, songs, old journals, college notes, all from the past 6 years. I created an Ode to the “good girl” I thought I was, who Society deems me to be; to the girl who let her daddy down.

A lot of this comes from a sad place I was involved with a few people that I put so much hope into that I almost lost myself, but in my sadness, I found comfort in writing. I found myself by challenging myself and facing my fears.

I found a way to shed negativity and out of it came a blessing. I want to encourage the next girl to do the same.

I made a super vision board. I clipped up at least 5 magazines printed out my favorite quotes and created collage on a board that reflected myself (my wants, needs, aspirations, and goals).

The cover reflects the many sides of me rather it be revolutionary or ratchet it’s a mash-up of me and I love it so what better image to use for my cover art?

I asked about three different people to draw a cover for me (previously). I sent them each a poem and offered money if they could put a visual representation to my words.

That was silly because I realized that I am the only one who can do that and I already did (through my artwork).

As I finished up the book, having picked the official title, I was confident on choosing my board as the official cover art. Not only is it unique, it is a clear representation of the words in this book of poems. It forces the reader to really take the time to think about what they’re reading and interpret the meaning on their own.

An excerpt from “An Ode to the ‘Good Girl’” available in paperback or kindle (e-book)

We write poetry too. #youngloudproud

An Ode to the “Good Girl” a book a poems that defies its title

An Ode to the “Good Girl”: A girl is many things, one thing she is not, and never can be, is easily defined.

“Good girls” have it tough. Not only to live up to society’s high expectations but to carry the weight of being “good.” What is a “good girl” anyway? That label doesn’t allow room to be wrong or selfish, disappointed or unsure, sexual or sexy, mischievous, too loud or too quiet; there’s no fair chance in growing into that woman she needs to be.

Whether she’s referred to as Maya, Mystik, or Cypher, this “good girl” is on her journey to finding self. Looking for the meaning of love and learning not to put the burden of loving her on anyone else. She’s making mistakes and learning from them. She’s been betrayed and has betrayed, love and loss, but instead of dwelling, she’s learning lessons and moving forward.

An Ode to the “Good Girl” is a collection of stories dedicated to all of the risks I’ve ever taken, the second chances I never got, and to all of the things, I thought I couldn’t say out loud. These words are for all of the girls who cry a lot and laugh out loud (especially at the worst time). For the “good girls” & the ones caught up too.

An Ode to the “Good Girls” is now available for pre order (as a Kindle e-book. Expected release 6/1/18), if you purchase the e-book you’ll get a paperback copy for a whopping 99cents. If you’re so eager and can’t wait until June the paper back version is live now for $15. Click these links for either Paperback & Kindle (e-book).

Thanks for your support.

Available in paperback & Kindle (e-book)

Describing Yourself In Three Words/Expressions #ILIKEME (Question #1)

Describe Yourself In Three Words/Expressions

Maya Angelou most inspires me, and one of my favorite quotes from her is ” Love is many things, it’s varied, one thing it is not and can never be is unsure.” I put my spin on it: A woman can be many things, we’re varied, one thing we’re not, and can never be, is easily defined.

Although not easy, if I had to describe myself using only a few words or expressions I’d say

1. “No”

I built walls up all around to protect myself. I’m no stranger to heartbreak or disappointment; “No” is a popular word among my vocabulary as a result. I’ve been accused of being selfish and mean because of how harsh I can be because my whole life I’ve been so sweet I could rot your teeth. Honestly, I’d rather be ‘selfish and mean’ than a doormat. No more negativity. No more accepting the bare minimum. No more lowing standards. No no no. It takes skill to say It and mean it though.

2. Friend

Once you start to understand what it really means to be a friend to yourself you’ll learn how to then be supportive and love others. In the past two years, I’ve learned what being a friend really means. I am continuously learning ways to put myself first and in that, I am my greatest friend. I recognize that I love hard, without condition, and support the people in my life without any strings attached. I don’t expect anything in return. I am able to recognize who is deserving and who isn’t. Friendship skills on fleek.

3. Spiritual

I am a spiritual person made up of hope and greatness. Deep down I have this feeling of greatness and great things to come although I’m not sure exactly what it is. I’m waking in faith and following my dreams no matter how long it takes. I believe in myself, my hopes and dreams, and passionate about helping others. My relationship with God was on the rocks but inside of me that I know I haven’t created all of these blessings by myself; it’s a spiritual thing. God shows me favor every day. My spirit is unique; it’s different and you know that when you meet me and really get to know me.

I listed a few of my greatest attributes as they have huge impacts on how and why I operate the way I do.

Watch a video of Maya Angelou on Oprah’s Super Soul Conversation as she drops gems on self-love, being a friend, and learning to say “No.”

Lesson #1

“In order to get a friend you have to be a friend, be ready to be a friend”

Lesson #2

“There’s a place in you that you must keep inviolate, you must keep it pristine, clean, so that no one has the right to curse you or treat you badly…that may be the place you go to meet God.”

Lesson #3

“Say no when it’s no. Say so.”

“Still I Rise” (a poem by Maya Angelou)

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

https://youtu.be/JqOqo50LSZ0

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them” Maya Angelou’s Quotes To Live By

“You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. Don’t make money your goal. Instead pursue the things you love doing and then do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off of you…”

tumblr_o3xds1GpPe1qdo62to1_500.jpg

” I do not trust people who don’t love themselves and yet tell me, ‘I love you.’ There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.”

tumblr_n6aqk9IjU01rjk8s8o1_400.jpg

“I would like to be known as an intelligent woman, a courageous woman, a loving woman, a woman who teaches by being.”

tumblr_n6acvfvhH81s8qdxgo3_400.jpg

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.”

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o1_250.jpg

“Most people don’t grow up. Most people age. They find parking spaces, honor their credit cards, get married, have children, and call that maturity. What that is, is aging.”

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o9_500.jpg“Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know before you learned it.”

“Everything in the universe has a rhythm, everything dances.”

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o10_500.jpg

“The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise.”

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o7_500.jpg

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o6_540.jpg

“Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.”

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o4_500.jpg

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o5_540.jpg

“…you will recognize me for I shall be the tall Black lady smiling.”

tumblr_n6afo44l0q1s3nuv7o3_500.jpg

“You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it.”

tumblr_n6aqk9IjU01rjk8s8o6_540.jpg

tumblr_n6aqk9IjU01rjk8s8o5_400.jpg

My wish for you is that you continue. Continue to be who and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness. Continue to allow humor to lighten the burden of your tender heart.”

-Maya Angelou

%d bloggers like this: