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The Places We Call Home
Everlasting memories – those familiar places
we have known
embrace our soul during times when we
feel we are ... ∞ 
A Perfect Day
Summer writes the perfect poem as this day roams—gracefully.
Peacefully the descriptive imagery of euphoric clouds
gaze like lovers in ... ∞ 
Tarringo T. Vaughan always believed he had a love affair with literature. One of the first pictures he saw of himself was of him at maybe the age of three or four year’s old sitting with a book in his hand. But for Tarringo, growing up in the depths of the inner city both in [...]
FWC Cares Project
Of Life’s Complexity Inspired by The Poetry Of Tupac Shakur Those who accept simplicity have never walked on the same side of the street as me. They’ve never watched grown folks cry when hopes and dreams slowly die. They’ve never seen single mothers struggle or heard their cries around dinner time when food is...
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I continue to study this poem. I feel there is an energy of something more waiting to explode from the verses. I’m not sure if this poem will make the cut for the “Different Kind Of Blues” project but I will continue to explore this poem. I share this draft with you. Born...
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Poem Cry There is no crying in poetry because poems don’t cry for sympathy/they cry to expose the human emotion of translation and they cry to ignite the fuel of connection . I have had many tears in this life; many tears I’ve found again in the fragrance of summer’s past but I will...
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These Words Sitting here thinking, reminiscing about how back then the world seemed cruel and life through my eyes was filled with rules – I was a young child, age of five and so newly alive, taught early the streets as a source to survive I write these words so glad I’m alive and...
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Through their eyes I see the instruments of hope and in their faces I hear decayed dreams whistling through the hollow silence of these forgotten streets where only those with strength can cope; they are the many lives who reach out to be heard in this place where very few stop to listen...
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There is always a home in the shelter of a heart. I never really understood why I slept in different beds and stared up at ceilings I wasn’t use to studying. Most of the time I had my nana, aunts and uncle; but there were times me and my mother were somewhere else. ...
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Verbal Vibez
