CHECK IT OUT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

Presenting Queen Godis and the "...In the Mirror" Project

There are very few people in the world that I trust with my life even fewer still the people i trust to speak in a capacity of healing and self work that if your breathing you need to do .I am pleased to say my sister Queen Godis occupies those two rare categories in my life.
she recently did an interview about her up coming video and how Michael Jackson has impacted her art

I want you to go make some chamomile tea if you have get comfortable watch the interview then go to www.auntiqueengodis.blogspot.com listen to the remix of man in the mirror .. then get up and go look in your own mirror and begin the 21 day process of change that you need to make

jorge luis brito

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/poetryisme

Njagala show casing some of my Uganda's brother work and his name is Ekomu Joel Amio

Journey through Sirreal Photography(copy write)

My mind is the only thing
that cannot be copyrighted
my heart a beating star
pulsating black ink out
my mouth
sounds like a halo with
legs and feet
that hits you in the places
you have tucked away from
sight
and i have been here
like a crying volcano
a screaming ajax bottle
a talking keyboard
stuck in the ears of a deaf
man i hear silence in the noise
you can call me the architect
that builds houses inside you
with walls of love and feeling
waiting for the moment
when i release so much of
this crazy gypsy in my chest
that i implode into zeros
into beyond nothing
and everything all at the same
time
into speakers laced with
DNA vibrations of the second kind
i am not of this world
and of this now
and not the past you cannot run
from
i have been too hard for too long
to make sticks and stones
impede the flap of my wings
and the sun has been chasing me
through my dreams so i write
a poem for every grain of sand for
the blackest nights up under my feet
i walk like heaven was in the
eyes of the people i meet
as if love was in the actions
and not the word
as if faith was not in the believing
but the leap
out of fear
a living res-erection
i write evolution and pray three
times a day because this
story can end at least different
ways
and my grandma raised me to stay
ready
said make sure when they come
that you give them the sun and the moon
the stars and the planets
the black holes and fall of leaves
she said nah
make sure you give them the warrior
in your knuckles
the razors of your voice
call on your ancestors and make
sure they see your face everytime
they close there eyes
i said grandma this world is hard sometimes
and this flesh aint going to stop
there bullets i am scared of the words
i speak sometimes grandma because
i know from experience how the truth
hurts and i can't explain why i dont
walk away from this grandma i have
and would still
give up a love of a woman before i
give up this what is wrong with me
i understand that we all want to
be free want to be held in the places
where it hurts want to get this anger
from birth up of our chests
want to go home to someone who understands
the rest want to feel like these
words make sense want to give
everything without the boundaries
we put on ourself's would like to cry
without feeling week would like to
stop trying to get there and just
get there
she said you are human so you go
through what humans go through
and it made sense
said i know its crazy and you out
there in the world with nothing
but the chips on your shoulders
the feeling of bricks to your back
and a shotgun in your face like
the cracks in the sidewalks shout
expletives at you all day
but you make sure you
let them understand this here
that you may not always be right
but your never wrong
so i stay on my job
and write for the life of my life
because there is a process
to this purpose
and my mind sings like lullaby's through
time so i understand the
equation of sound
decibel times metaphor
divided by voice
and the shape of your body
gives of an algorithm a frequency
that only you posses
so this stage is but my tool
for the gift i was given
at birth they told me i would speak
to heaven
and i see you as such
so forgive me if
no ego enters this poem
or if is not slam worthy
but i have slammed right here
before you ever see me
gone through hot coals
and bear feet
through windows and scars
through a wife and a divorce
through friends who aint really your
friends bullet wound and nightmares
till this day so i have mastered
insomnia and turned it into inspiration
to keep writing alchemist to the core
trust i when i tell you
I have no enemy
but dont let the raccoons rummage
through your garbage
i still have fear
but i face mine everyday right
here i have been writing for as long
as i have been thinking
i dare you to copy
write that.

Journey through Sirreal Photography (metaphor)

Her look
could have
killed the world
flipped atlas
on his axis
orbited a suffocated
bench press
on a ants back
chained to a forgotten
tomorrow rapped
in a reality
two centimeters removed
from right now
rising like the goose bumps
you get when truth
reveals itself in words
the synonym for metaphor
has got to be woman
in a blue sky
a black fire
shows off
as if the stars could not
flash light out existence
eyes spoke of almonds
half cracked
just so you catch just
a glimpse of heaven
of yourself
growing inside her rib
prototype
i now know
when i stared at her
that i am a hybrid
all we are as men
is confused women until
we learn were it is we
come from
until we meet a
harbinger with sunset eyes
and a star placed
per curiously on her nose
until we fall in love
with the lover we do not
understand
only then
will her look
make sense
and her scent
bearable in the air
the rustle of the leaves
she be a unexplainable
simple
that finds us in our dreams
when we are alone
with thoughts
i feel sometimes she is
watching me staring
at my chest thinking she
wishes she could take
her ribs back
if she knew then what she
knows now
how the slave of us
would be so prominent
in the mistreatment of her kind
her body and mind
soul and love even still
her hips grow wide enough
to forgive
and eyes tell me something
sacred in a flash
a chance meeting
meeting chance past
believing i found
the perfume of her
one night in a bed
of roses
just because
she said she wanted lay on
pedals before her ghost flee's
in a room of candles
for random's sake
just to see how her skin maroon's
with the light
oil and giggles necessary
in fingertips
i met myself and her
laced with the meaning of breath
one night under a blue moon
over looking a red sky
with purple hearts dancing in the
flicker of the shadows fire on
the floor
i stand here today
just to tell you that
the synonym for metaphor
is woman
don't be fooled by the
spelling or the
spells casting
metaphor is woman
and woman is a unexplainable
simple but they have
always told you
god is in the simple things