Friday, June 12, 2015

on our behalf

Excuse me Ms.

Do you have a minute?


I couldn't help but notice you looking so somber.

Looking so sad.

You are much too beautiful for that.
This ain't a come on line.

I'm not trying to push up.

Not trying to analyze you.

Not trying to convince you to leave your other half.

I'm just here to let you know we're not all like that.

Please allow me speak on our behalf.
 I'm sorry for all  the broken promises.

Sorry for all the horrible dates.

Sorry for all the times you had to stay up late wondering where he was.

Sorry for the insensitivity towards your needs.

Sorry for any forced encounters or unwanted touches.

Sorry  that he rejected you.

Sorry that he walked out on you.

Sorry for him not complimenting your beauty.

Sorry for him not trusting you.

Sorry for him not being supportive of you.

Very sorry for any time he may have struck you.

Sorry for all the little boy games.

Sorry for every one tear drop you couldn't hold back.

Sorry for him calling you all those horrible names.

Sorry for him flaunting his infidelity in your face.

I apologize for him not holding you down.

Oh wow.

I'm sorry.

I Didn't mean to drone on like that.
I just had to let you know that we are not all like that.

I had to represent on our behalf.

Thank you kindly for listening to what I had to say.

Take care.
Keep smiling.

Your beautiful no matter what anyone has to say.

Please enjoy the rest of your day.

The poetry corner: Poetry for all occasions. Poetry with a passion#CR HH 6/7/15

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

i'm washing my hands

Today I'm new.
I''ve been delivered
from my old ways
Pressing forward
Going on.
Remaining strong.
At this time however. 
I'm reflecting.

I'm washing my hands.

I spent time in my early years learning of you.
They said I would be the one.

I'm washing my hands.

Letting the water rinse my memories clean.
I'm washing my hands.

Prophsieded by educators as a youngster not likely to succeed 
Strange amongst my peers.

I'm washing my hands.

Somewhere down the road I chose the opposite track.
Developed tough skin and learned the ways of the trap.

I'm washing my hands.

Bear with me. This goona take a minute. 
They ain't been soaking in Palmolive baby.

I'm washing my hands.

I watched the vital sighns slip slowly away from my queen mother in the ambulance.

I'm washing my hands.

My father.
My earliest memories of him was him being shackled from head to toe.

I'm washing my hands.

Baby Brah. Was like the only one who actually got me. One of the very few that could actually connect with me. 
Never had to say much he could just instinctively link with me.
Then he got cut down in the prime of youth. Sometimes I wonder what it would of been like if I would have been there to shoot.

I'm washing my hands.

My elders say I'm ignorant,lazy and don't know what true struggle is.

I'm washing my hands.

Society tells me I'm full of excuses and I'm playing the victim card. Either suck it up walk off or go hard.

I'm washing my hands.


What's that?

A myth. Just a figment of my imagination.

I'm washing my hands.

Looking to my savior for hope.
You gotta get rest of the grime Lord.
I'm all out of soap.

For right now I'm done washing my hands.

The poetry corner: Poetry with a passion . Poetry for all occasions tm
HLH 4/8/15

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Dreams for sale$ Part.2(The THOT)

All you wanted from a woman is to be loyal and for her to love you unconditionally with no trickery.
Then you spied her from afar.
 She was radient.Humble yet confident and smelled so sweet and fragret
She seemed very easy going.
She liked long walks and late night talks.
When you first started dating she dressed conservative Reading specs and and pant suits.
She sang like and angel.
You felt she was the truth.
She made you feel like king the way she polished your crown.
She sold you a dream and you bought it.
Last test. What does mom think?
Mom hates them all but she passed.
She sold you a dream and you bought it.
Now you got wifey material or so you think.
Now the truth is about to be reviled.
Now out comes the leggings and the spiked heels.
Shorts so short  you can see exposed cheeck meat.
When she dances the fellas tip.
She twerks till it hurts.
Online she's a reckless flirt.
From Skype to tiny 
chat to the gram.
 She put on a show for the cam.
Hit any pose for compliments and likes.
Now you always have to ask her babe whose he?
She's a pro at covering her tracks.
It's  always just a friend or just the homei.
The only  reason he was texting so late is because he going through a thang.
Till one  night she forgets to lock her phone.
Nothing but nudes in her out going text but none of them sent to you.
You can't ask cause you had no business snooping.
You don't bother asking cause you know she'll just lie.
You thought you had good girl.
She sold you a dream and you bought it.
The relationship sucks.
You want out.
She's not at all what you thought.
 You believed you wifed up a queen but in  reality all you did is got suckered in by a THOT.
She ran you over so hard with the love truck love truck that you never even noticed the blinker.
She sold you a dream and you bought it.
And sinker.

The poetry corner:
Poetry for all ocassions.
Poetry with a passiontm
HLH 3/24/15©

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Dream for sale$ Part1(mr.spider)

You have a big city attitude and Southern curves
All you ever wanted is for a man to admire and respect your 
mind not oggle your behind.
 you met him.
He enters with a charming grin.
He has deep conversation.
 Oh yes. He's different from all the other men.
He shows a general concern about your intrest, hopes and dreams.
 You're in total awe of him.
He swept you off your feet.
The loven was good
The emotions ran deep.
He sold you a dream and you bought it.
Yeah he was that good.
He fooled your parents, siblings, and friends.
He was so slick you could no longer tell fantasy from reality.
He had you believing he was the Prince of morality.
 Christian values.
The reverend even put a stamp on him and reserved a pugh for the both of you.
He sold you a dream and you bought it.
He got you picking out wedding rings and trying out his last name.
Little do know that day will never come.
You thought you met a Prince but in reality he's a spider.
A master at ensnaring females in his web of lies.
You got the early morning text her from her and of course he had the perfect cover.
She was just a bitter ex and there is no other.
He sold you a dream and you bought it.
Then finally the confrontation comes.
She's all in your face.
She has a woman to woman with you and explains to you her place.
All this time you thought you where his one and only.
You had no clue. How low on the totem pole you were.
You weren't even number two.
You got ran over by the love truck and didn't even notice the blinker
He sold you a dream and you bought it.

The poetry corner.

Poetry for all occasions.
 Poetry with a passion

Sunday, December 7, 2014

My hands are up.

What’s a black life worth?

Do we qualify as human beings?

Are we lower than dirt?

Mr. officer what’s going through your head when you look in my eyes?

What it is it about me that  you despise?
My music isn’t loud.
My pants are above my waste.
I have a job.

When did it become your personal mission to make me fit the description?
I’m minding my own.
Mr. officer  why are you harassing me?
Please leave me alone.
Are you having a bad day?
Did you have trouble at home?
Is you’re your supervisor giving you hell?
Let me pass.
Let me be.
Why Mr. officer are you harassing me?
Why are you trying to harm me?
If you shoot me what will the story be?
He’s being aggressive.
He had a gun.
You saw the gun right?
Yeah right.
I just know my fresh spilled blood will make your night.
No need to draw your weapon.
I surrender.
I’m obeying your commands.
See I’m on the ground.
I surrender I give up.
Don’t shoot.
Look my hands are up. 

Rip James Garner,  Rip Mike Brown, Rip Tamir Rice, Rip Kimani Gray, Rip Nicholas Heyward Jr, Rip Ezel Ford,Rip Oscar Grant, Rip Tim Sandsburry, Rip John Crawford, Rip Ramorley Gram,Rip Trayvon Martin and all other unarmed black men killed by Law enforcement  in the US.
It is there sworn duty to serve and protect not to destroy and reject.

The poetry corner: Poetry with a passion. Poetry for all occasions
HLH © 12/07/14

Monday, July 7, 2014


You enter the room without a sound to claim your victim.

No signs of forced entry.

No signs of a struggle.

No entry or exit wounds.

Nothing except a wanted path of destruction from within.

You claim women.

You claim men.

You fester and linger.

You deteriorate  and decimate.

You're a time snatcher.

A dream dasher.

A faith tester.

A hope burglar.

You're a liar.

A thief.

A murderer.

You claim many.

Your victories aren't always flawless.

You have been beaten before.

One day you'll be totally powerless.

One day their will be a remedy.

One day their will be an answer.

One day all will survive your plague.

One day you will be destroyed...


Do research.

Get tested.

Never give up.

Morally support loved ones or friends that have cancer.

The poetry corner: Poetry for all occasions. Poetry with a HLH CR 7/714

Saturday, July 5, 2014


Mya Angelou was living poetry personified and amplified.

She was indeed a phenomenal woman.

Her expressive art form inspired  a whole nation to rise.

She challenged her people to spread their wings and soar.

She taught a whole generation of lionesses to roar.

She liberated caged birds.

She influenced millions to write and have words spoken.

Her poetry illuminated minds and pried souls open.

The jewels she shared were timeless and rare.

Her presence was fleeting.

She motivated everyone to hope and to dare.

Dr. Mya Angelou was ahead of her time.

She created countless milestones.

She transcended art.

She was  more than a woman.

She was truly a Matriarch

RIP Mya Angelou.

The poetry corner: poetry for all occasions. poetry with a passion tm   ©HLH 7/5/14