A gift for you. Enjoy.

Greetings! The first poem was inspired and composed for my daughter and all other young women who are struggling with keeping their virginity. I created the second poem simply by watching my momma cook in the kitchen one afternoon. I was motivated with the third one by a conversation that I had with some individuals who had no clue to the blessings of being born and raised in the South. Finally, the last one was written in response to a disheartening conversation that I was exposed to.

Inside My Poetic Four Seasons
I Am A Virgin

Yes I am a virgin
My announcement should not get your hopes surgin
That this declaration
Is your opening to submit your application
Calling me fresh meat, newbie or rookie
Is not an incentive nor will it entice me to give you first dibs on the “nookie”
It’s unreal
How some of you feel
That singing praises to my size
Will cause me travel with you down the path of carnal nightmares, you need to recognize
My proportions
For those suffering from spiritual distortions
Are gifts from my Father
Why even bother
To open up a sanctuary for you to trample
In and over with your dirty feet covered in clean shoes as you rap sweet nothings promising to only sample
My goodies, not understanding that this temple holds a sacred dowry
Flowery
Words
Are things that I have heard
On the radio or television shows with songs and skits that many of you imitate
In your efforts to duplicate
Some already used but still tired game
Don’t you understand that more than my name
Is at stake the minute I open my legs
So I don’t care if you beg
You can’t borrow or even attempt to steal my virtue
Careful, I am anointed so simply thinking you can touch me, can possibly hurt you
The foolishness comes at me from all angles
It’s not just the young brothers but now even sisters dangle
Bait as if I am stupid enough to swallow their possibly diseased worms placed carelessly on a hook
I look
Not with my eyes but the Holy Spirit
My discernment is being fine tuned daily so I easily hear Him and there are no barriers or limits
As It speaks, warning me of the dangers ahead
Lurking around me that would normally fill me with unease and dread
Yet, I am glad that I yield not to temptation
I submit to His Holy education
As His vessel
I am human as I wrestle
With emotions
That at times causes a commotion
With what I am being taught
I know that my journey of purity won’t be easy however I refuse to be caught
Up in the relaxed mentality
A statistic or even worse a shocking, wasted, youthful fatality
Covered by His blood, I am proud to proclaim

That I Am A Virgin Without shame

CDJ © 2009




In My Mama’s Hands

In My Mama’s Hands they tell the stories
Of all of her ebony trials and cocoa glories

In My Mama’s hands they have smoothed my brow
They have answered my questions of when, why or how

In My Mama’s Hands I saw my future as well as her past
I saw in her hands the knowledge that trouble does not last

In My Mama’s Hands the lines are legends for the living
They are hidden treasures that can’t be shared, they have to be given

In My Mama’s Hands I saw the route to my dreams
She showed me the map of Hope, gave me directions to the road of Faith, which led me right past the highway of Wishful Thinking to my Golden Stream

These are the things that I found In My Mama’s hands

CDJ © 1998




In My South

As the heat brings my memories out of hibernation

My heart leaps in deep lemonade gratification

The Gospel was experienced and you were accustoming to feeling it even when you weren’t in need

The Bible was sacred and more than just something to read

Relaxing as the sound of crickets announce their family reunion with pride

Bob whites that sing in such a unique way, I couldn’t duplicate even when I tried

Learning the fine art of tump, bid whist or spades

Magnolia and crab apple trees offering the best kind of shade

Mastering the two step was like getting baptized

Attempting to stay in grown folks company was begging to be chastised

Going underneath Grannie’s house for some of her special pots

Gently wiping all of her cast iron and placing them back in their corrects spots

Fireflies declare summer by teasingly calling my name

Sitting on the porch wearing a fresh watermelon smile without shame

As a child, television never held that much appeal because I enjoyed playing outside

Mothers, sisters or aunts were a constant presence so we always had a whupping or a kiss and hug waiting when we cried

There was nothing strange about talking at the rate of molasses

Something about listening to Granddaddy speak was better than free movie passes

No such thing as hard to find soul because our lives played that music every day

Otis Redding, Bobby Womack, Aretha Franklin and Betty Wright all somehow knew the right words to say

A tall glass of Kool-Aid, sweetened just so, had the weirdest ability to heal whatever ailed you

Finding a rainbow hidden behind the sun, making a silent wish and hoping that it would come true

Back then, harmony was normal, made a complete circle and to God lessons learned in defeat as well as triumphs were dedicated

Families didn’t have to practice love and elders were respected, their wisdom daily celebrated

Your genealogy was an heirloom, customs were legacies

Traditions were explained in detail to map out destinies

CDJ © 2007




O Brother Where Art Thou?

I don’t understand why or how
You can easily wipe the historical sweat of Africa from your brow
Have you forgotten?
That God sent His only begotten
Upon His death, leaving behind
Laws for you to apply as well as share with all mankind
O Brother Where Art Thou?

Red clay bonding your rib
Fertilizing seeds that extend beyond the crib
Occasionally using the world’s congruence
For an influence
You ignore your predestined duty
By marring our natural beauty
O Brother Where Art Thou?

Urban fatalistic
Homie statistic
Wearing chains that hang low with stereotype
Using your ears to absorb media hype
Your teeth reflect the pawned bling
Of a pauper instead of your inheritance as a king
O Brother Where Art Thou?

Habitually you are unable to discern real wealth
Or unless faced with death, what’s good for your health
The cracks in pavements
Swallow dreams that hemorrhage as sidewalks become new places of bereavement
No need to worry about Neo-Nazis or the KKK because we have formed our own
With each shot, strike of your fist, angry word spoken, or burial, the membership has grown
O Brother Where Art Thou?

The legacy
Of our heritage is lost in the ecstasy
Released in between the sugary hell
Of your current Jezebel
STD’s have traded rolling stones for innovative shoes
AID’s doesn’t require W-2’s
O Brother Where Art Thou?

You no longer have game
Allowing society to change more than your name
From pants to frills, giving roses to wearing freesia
Sometimes you suffer from a lethal case of ethnic amnesia
You are the new sport
Remember, our ancestors knew how to play on and off the court
O Brother Where Art Thou?

Torn between wanting a queen or being one
Our daughters and sons
Are confused
As they watch and listen to their mothers who are abused
By mouths that are supposed to instruct and hands that were created to care
Subsequently producing fruit made soft with cursed worms of ignorance and no kernels to spare
O Brother Where Art Thou?

As our future
Slowly bleeds
You must first acknowledge Him while using His wisdom to suture
Our cultural wounds with love and follow where He leads

O Brother Where Art Thou?


CDJ © 2008

Lyrically Speaking