Monthly Archives: December 2009

growing wings.

I have always had dreams of flying.
So I’m finally learning what it feels like to grow into these wings,
but I haven’t yet mastered the ability to use em.
And Since there aren’t enough fingers on these hands
to count the amount of times I’ve foolishly tried.
In the mean time I’ll just say that the process of waiting feels a lot like becoming a butterfly
Anxiety building its own layer of skin under weaving its own cocoon.
So perhaps it means, that for me? it might still be too soon.
While colors still find their partners to dance upon these wings,
They sing the tune to help provide the reminder that I’m still a beautiful creature too.

So while I haven’t yet learned how to fly
these wings haven’t missed a step in teaching me about time.
So in patience I’m resigned to settle for signs
that might reveal pieces of my broken shell
or past fragments scattered as ashes of my former self
that can slowly tell stories to narrate their way into the books of my shelf.
stories that if I could I would learn the perfect way to tell,
It hurts to know I’m not there yet so for now, i’ll just learn how to  read em’,
much like scars grown over our broken skin
are tributes to the memories of past pains still bleeding.

I have spent so much time attempting to see the truest parts of me.
but ironically the process evolves into finding ways for me
to learn how to allow myself to be seen.
Breaking down barriers that have stood strong since I was 9,
When I first told teachers, parents, pastors and friends that I was fine,
but I lied,
and I should have told them my wings were shattered into pieces the day grandpa died.
Now the paralyzing fear acts back as initial instinct to moments of unveiling
with a diminishing and distant hope floating somewhere that I’m constantly prevailing
over my foolish faults and insecurities,
believing that this process was always meant for something
other than learning how to see me
by breaking out of a self-reflected cocoon
finally learning how to be seen.

And I’m tired of hiding,
cause I’ve been cautiously presiding
over the carefully crafted persona that I have selectively revealed
though I have kept hidden pieces of my memories
while purposefully some of my dreams have been sealed.
Ideas of a perfectly crafted life no longer a desired illusion
If we can learn to tell ourselves the truth then it is no longer a delusion.
Because truth doesn’t sell well on the streets.
And you don’t have to be a pusha man to know what to fight for.
It’s all in within your reach, you just need to learn what to fly for.
So these wings flutter to turn truth into sounds,
Echo’s take flight back into the ground giving life in each swoop.
I haven’t yet learned to fly, But I can almost imagine what it feels like.
And I think that’s the first step in tuning ourselves to fly when we sing.
The ability to realize that right in front of your eyes, your finally starting to grow your wings.



We are all a collection of the people that inspire us.  As a spoken word poet we will always be part of a special group of writers and performers that have given ourselves to creating and performing from a place so sacred and vulnerable. It’s almost as if we are forced to look into the mirror of the eyes that watch us, with the deep words we chose we must learn to let the well of water wash over us, remembering our pain, or igniting our hope.  It is not an easy craft to learn, yet it is so inspiring when we capture it.

The most beautiful thing about this art form is that the “it” one must capture as an artist is not framed within any kind of rubric or cadence.  Though many artists have similar styles, the boundaries are being pushed further out and spoken word artists are becoming one of the many places we can find our new generations storytellers.  As humans we have always been drawn to stories, and every single person has a story to tell.  We are all travelers on a journey finding ways to tell our stories. This has been my chosen medium for the time being, and I am striving to learn how to craft a masterful voice with inspiration of those that have gone before me and the history of the art form in days gone by.  We are a collection of the people that inspire us, and I just wanted to share with you all, the poets that have inspired me along my journey to tell my own story with passion and love.

So these are some of my favorite poets in no particular order, but just some amazing artists that have inspired me and given me hope through their words and actions.

Andrea Gibson: “We need to Create, Creation is the only thing louder than destruction”

From Boulder Colorado Andrea Gibson has been an inspiration to me with her powerful words that focus a lot on breaking the gender norms and speaking power into the LGBTQ Community.  She is an activist and poet that speaks with so much force that anyone who listens to her words are taken into a whirlwind of emotion.  From her anger, to her compassion, to her pain and humor, she really captures the spectrum of emotions that we feel, and most of the time are scared to express. She teaches me how to find power in vulnerability and to find strength in broken pain.

Andrea Gibson Performing “Yellow Bird”


Besskepp hails from Stockton Ca but now lives in Southern California and hosts a weekly venue in Pomona called “A Mic and Dim Lights.” This is the place that I discovered my love of spoken word poetry and feel most at home.  He has hosted this venue for almost 8 years and is an amazing writer, poet, and human.  He does poetry by night, but teaches special education at Nogales High School in West Covina Ca and instills his love for poetry with high school students and inspires them to tell their stories by writing.  As the host of “A Mic and Dim lights” his poetry was the first that I was ever exposed to as a 18 year old kid fresh out of high-school.  He is a master of words and his style and cadence is unmatched in its unique movement and symmetry. He has recorded an album of his poetry, written a book and has appeared nationally on HBO’s “Def Poetry Jam”

Besskepp performing Rotten Pomegranates on HBO’s Def Poetry

Suheir Hammad:

Suheir is an American-Palestinian from Brooklyn New York.  I have only seen her here on Def Poetry, but all the performances I have seen have been packed with political and passionate desire for healing and love.  She knows the pain of being a Palestinian and she draws from this emotion to convey her message of love and peace. This is one of my favorite spoken word pieces of all-time. She delicately mixes the passion of love  and sex with the awareness of political action and struggle. Not your normal everyday poem.

We Spent the 4th of July in bed

Rudy Francisco:

I first saw Rudy as a feature at “A Mic and Dim Lights” and he was the first feature that I have seen the blew me away with every poem he recited.  His words are so cleverly crafted and tell such rich stories that weave delicate tapestries into a well-woven narrative.  I am inspired by his style and the way his actual voice resonates through the mic.  His poetry focuses on so many issues and force the listener to ask tough questions to themselves and others around them.  In terms of style and wordplay he is one of my favorite poets, and easily one of the artists that I try to pattern some of my rhythm to.

Rudy Franciso performing Promise from God/Flowers.

Kat Magill:

Kat has always been one of the rawest poets that I have known.  Her power is in the force of her words and the belief that she throws behind them.  I have seen her perform at Dim lights, poetry lounge and many other LA open Mics and everytime she performs I am simply captivated by her energy and emotion.  Of course I was immediately hooked when she wrote a poem title “Purple” and as many of you know purple is my favorite color and imagination.  This is her performing “purple”

Well those are just a few of my favorite poets out of the many that have always inspired me to create and to continue fighting the good fight.  The common bond that runs through all these artists is their love for humanity and the belief that comes with words and change.  We all become passionate about finding new ways to let our stories run into the narrative of our imaginations and break through into the world as a force of change and hope.  May we continue to imagine and speak, and may the prophets of this generation rise from the ranks of this movement.

Peace and Love.

Poet John Paul the Third.

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Today’s agenda. We always have one.

Self- loathing while never really a good thing does serve one simple function.
If placed in the right context and given the correct aspirations.
It can be a place of evolution within one’s own process.
If we are honest with ourselves and learn to understand the feelings that overcome us.
Perhaps we can find those places that begin to haunt our dreams
Become our nightmares, and begin to find ways to navigate the scary forests that await us.
I feel like perhaps I have become obsessed with my own personal healing.
Or learning to tell my own story. And maybe the new evolution must include other stories.
Learning how to be just as well versed in the ideas that have become my own.
I am hoping to tell the stories of others in just the same way.
Though all these stories will always be a part of my own reflection.

Growing leaves.

It’s like a pep talk of sorts.  Telling yourself to remember what you believe . When the time comes to believe it. And I remember to look in the mirror. But I’m worried about how other people would see it. So I’m hiding behind my fears believing somehow that I’m not the one that shows them.
And I’m telling lies from behind a mask. Pretending I’m the one that knows em’ knows em. knows em. knows em. So if i were to hold my head up high.
What would I ever try to say,  I’m the one that tells stories in difficult ways remember?.  Words fly into months and suddenly your in touch with what it feels like to be September.  leaves that turn green make the world only seem that if we never look in pockets we obviously forget to look in seems.

I’m just trying to figure this phenomenon cause it makes no sense to me, I’m trying to work through truth as if it were unknown tales from trees. That speak forth from winds that blow and sway giving life from breath to breath in motion, until leaves give way to water being drowned from Ocean to Ocean. And we’re hoping that if waves can somehow take us further than we thought, we would float down streams of effortless dreams leaving endless scars half-open. It’s not easily known where our demons go to hide, and so we gotta try and find em. But once we do we also have to gain the courage to deny em. So instead we grow leaves to hide places we need to reprieve, and let flowers bloom instead of hidden doom, and in return for our exchange we let sleeping demons loom. Not always the best place to be, until we learn the dance our demons need.

I’m getting somewhere

My grandfather once told me that creativity was like magic. It’s been a few weeks since I started this whole free write thing.  And It seems to be that it is really beginning to unlock new things for me and access different points of my creativity.  The freedom to write with no remorse really unleashes previously inaccessible ideas or emotions and puts on paper (computer screen) new words and contexts for truths that I was not ready to face.  Yet somehow this new freedom has begun to unlock within myself new inspiration.  That coupled with the focused time that I have been able to spend with my writing since moving out of the house has allowed me to sit a lot more with what I have experienced and move forward with the new ways that I have evolved within myself.  It’s almost like looking into a mirror a lot clearer, and with much more insight as to why I have been the way I am.  And what triggers those emotions and feelings.

I’m getting somewhere, and it feels good to know that I am going down the right path, even though I have no clue as to where that path is leading, its good to know that feeling of familiarity once again, being close with good people, good inspiration found in good friends.  Opportunity is so bright and there is so much to experience and see, and that is all it takes for me to recognize that the next steps are always going to be exciting.

I made a friend today that spoke such wise words of insight about me so quickly upon meeting. It felt like she knew a lot of things about me already that I have only begun to know and accept about myself.  I’m finally on the journey to discover what it is that I love to do and find such life in, and I need to really keep allowing this creativity to sprout into new places with new branches and leaves.  To build a tree house with these words and hide under the fort of passion and belief.  It’s free.  Even the ways that I am learning to reflect about myself will shift and the personal awareness that I have of my own situation and the events and situations that I find myself to be in will all be relearned and shifted.  the language is changing to fit new modes of thought and here I am trying to give them all new definitions.  I love speaking, and I love writing.  Words give such insight and wisdom is reflected back in simply listening to other people’s words.

I’m getting somewhere.  And I don’t know where the fuck this place is leading, but it’s freeing.  And its starting to feel like home finally, right here in this place.  Me.  Home. You are who you are with.  Its beginning to make its way even into my solitude, when it breaks in the places that have always been so private, I know that new things are beginning to become born, into a cocoon of ideas and words an new world opens itself up.  And I’m getting somewhere, the street lights have new signs, and the people smile new smiles, even after awhile all the colors start to file into single shapes and new renditions, 2.0 and past revisions. this decision.  Is never the last or most important.  It’s the person that makes that decision that matters most. I’m getting somewhere.  I am not quite sure yet just where I’m going, but as I’ve said before I am learning and I am growing.  And maybe things will start to get clearer once I allow myself to trust these roads.  the process of becoming is always taking hold, and forcing us to ask these questions, our voices become bold, our stories become told, and our wisdom becomes old. Finally discovering that my whole life this has been what I was wishin’ So if creativity truly is magic, I find myself becoming a magician.