The G

Oh trade winds
Kindly carry this weighted kiss
From my stained tounge, frozen lips
To the heart of one miss
In the land of disobedience and bliss
For whom a beat my heart will skip.

The auburn seamless flames
From my inner space
Will charr your frosty Crystal waves
And light up her rosy spirit as it reaches her place.
It will remind her of what she can’t see
But I know in it she does believe. 

So trade winds, as you crack my lips
And steal the oil from my skin
Suck the life for the land
And blow onto us the coldness from our hearts
Do go with a piece of me
A piece that is greater than the whole
From a wierd and old soul
To my eternal B

I love you g



Hey guys. Thanksgiving break say whaaaa. WEwent to Harvard for the weekend, and it was lots of fun. A lot of dancing happened over this weekend.

I rediscovered my soundcloud today. I’ll post a link to it, and also to my friend Jason’s. He’s a really talented music maker. That’s all I have to say. Listen to Seaplane.


on the edge of a precipice

wind hurtling in my face

i dig in

remaining resolute


for to be tipped over is to tumble

tumble, tumbling

until i unfurl my demon wings

and the world is safe no more

Lord Alfred Delle

Cheerleader X Felix Jaehn

Dear G,

Salty water separates us. Maybe that accounts for how salty you’ve been lately? But that’s none of my business. I’m supposed to write something that has lines from one of those your old songs. I’ll find some way to fit it in this. Lol, seamlessly of course. Because that’s how I do. I miss the days we’d sing Heartless, and do the A milli rap- ohhh gaadd that takes me baaack. Those days when GBS hadn’t done us wayo. When Andy was Lil’ Ro. And we could fight over things, my too known feminist fourteen year old self believing I had the answers to everything. Your nonsense making me think sometimes that I didn’t. When you wrote raps and poetry and I was well, the cheerleader. When life wasn’t complicated; we were on the same continent. But things got complicated even before that became an issue. I wish we’d been smarter about things sometimes. More sensible about them- sat in front of the faculty a few more nights, been to a play, had a jazz jam session sometimes. I was an idiot, you’re your weird self. So we didn’t. I miss you. I guess that’s the bottom line. You’re my best friend in ways that you probably don’t know. Like when you laugh off my dumb paranoia- I always need that, you always know. I was gonna write you poetry for this- thank you for believing in my poetry. Herh I’ve been a bitch to you sometimes chale, I don’t know why you’re still here. It’s a struggs b. I’m still gonna try to ‘drop you some lines’ because, you know how I do.

To grow old in my arms, you can’t stop my love

Arms get weak, muscles decay, limbs stop to move

I don’t want to grow old in your arms

I want to sit out with you on akyem tafo farms

maybe one of these days you’ll actually find it on the map

and stop thinking yeji is it, because chale it no pap

and this is my final attempt at writing a rap

i’ll leave that to hov and sark and some dude called lil’ dap.

Cyber hugs g.


Helluurrrr cyberspace. Lol. I mean you.

I am gonna go out on a limb, and risk complete embarrassment, and do this.

So, I’d like you to comment a topic you’d like me to write about. Anything at all. Just, you know, not offensive. I’d love to do it. It could be something you want to know about me, something you want my opinion on, anything.

Lol I’m hoping you do comment.

Peace, love and funk.


New Continent

Hellur guys. I hope everyone’s doing great, having some peace love and funk in all your lives. I found this tumblr blog that has the randomest writing prompts and I’ve been using that lately- that’s where I got


if anyone wants it. lol you’re welcome *cheesy wink*

By way of life updates, I fell in love with Jay Z last night. I watched some of his interviews, and he’s just the smartest, wittiest, coolest, deepest, *dreamy sigh*. You should see some of his interviews, especially this one with letterman after blueprint 3 came out. Hilarious. More importantly, I found this medley of Ghanaian praise and worship songs. It made my day. It’s making my life. I was so happy, and I missed church so much. I also reminded myself today how  blessed I am to be here; to use this opportunity properly.

That said, I listened to some Malcolm X, Stokely Carmichael/Kwame Toure speeches earlier on tonight. I’ll post the links to them. While I don’t agree completely with either of them they do have very interesting ideologies (well, you guys know how I love Malcolm) and are both compelling speakers. This prompt stuck out at me because, and I think I’ve mentioned this before, I’ve been noticing a lot of ‘glorification of the black woman’ on my tumblr feed. I know it comes from a packed history of black beauty culture.
It’s great that people are loving, and teaching others to love, their bodies- whatever shades they may be. I’m pretty dark, and I know the struggle of being that dark girl in the class that people make fun of. I would’ve been happy if someone had told me my skin was beautiful then. I still had struggles with it, but I’ve made peace with it. Also, that’s a story for another day.
The underlying concept of these blogs is something that I understand a lot of people need- being told by your friends, family, commercials, movie stars, that your skin is ugly or just doesn’t quite cut it can affect a person deeply. It’s great that these blogs are trying to remind people that they are beautiful. What I don’t agree with is how this quickly disintegrates into objectification.
A lot of the time, these blogs will post pictures of naked black women, half naked women with stereotypically black bodies, or just plain porn. It objectifies black women, it thingifies them. We become nothing more than our bodies, and even that, a certain understanding of our bodies. When you want to uplift someone to believe that their body is beautiful, turning them into something exotic and sexual is not the way to do it. Because then you teach them that bodies are all that matter. There’s something wrong with having to romanticize the way a person is, turning it into this mythological essence of beauty before it can be acceptable. Then, take away the ‘nubian queen’ narrative, and what am I left with?
What I wish these blogs would do, would be just to say who you are is good enough. It’s beautiful. That’s what I would’ve wanted to hear. I think that’s what a lot of people need to hear.
Stop making black women some sexual fetish, prescribing what our bodies should look like, giving us an abstract romantic standard to see ourselves with. Who we are is enough. We should know this. We have always known this- other people didn’t; and we listened.