“I surrendered my beliefs and found myself at the tree of lifeinjecting my story into the veins of leavesonly to find that stories like forestsare subject to seasons”

“My father's a preacher, my mother's a teacher, thus . . . I rhyme.”

“My love is my soul's imagination... how do I love you... imagine.”

“I have offered myself to the inkwell of the wordsmith that I might be shaped into new terms of being.”

“They say that I am a poetI wonder what they would say if they saw me from the inside I bottleemotions and place them into the sea for others to unbottle ondistant shores I am unsure as to whether they ever reach and forthat matter as to whether I ever get my point acrossor my love”

“I'm hip to their game, hip to the science of warPropoganda makes me fight but what am I fightin for?My way of life? Beans and rice? Give and take, less or more? See through the eyes of the poor, plus I'm black to the coreIgnorance is on tour bookin stadiums and moreThe days of hitler painted pictures patriotic beforeYou raise your flag on a land snatched from bald eagles claw, and stamp the symbol on your currency to finance your war.I'm sayin no.Not in my name.Not in my life.Not by my hands.That ain't my fight.Not in my name.You wage your war against terrorists and violence, and try to wave your guns and fear us all into silence.NO.”

“I keep trying to forget, but I must remember. And gather the scattered continents of a self, once whole. Before they plant flags and boundary my destiny. Push down the watered mountains that blemish this soiled soul before the valleys of my conscience get the best of me. I'll need a passport just to simply reach the rest of me. A vaccination for a lesser god's bleak history.”