Self-Preservation is Paramount

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There’s nothing selfish about putting your “self” first, self-preservation is paramount. –@StevieStreets


#codeofthestreets:

Take care of yourself…

Fact or Fiction?

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HOLLY CRAAP! 

Is it Fiction or Facts? 
Libraries Matter;

as matter of fact,

let me librarian that…
Oh! You tend to rely on the news?!

Oh-kay… good luck with that.

Truth be told; you should be careful with that.

You should rely on a much more credible source,

the news has been known to report alternative facts;

the fiction section is filled with stories like that.
Oh! You tend to rely on search engines?!

Oh-kay… good luck with that.

Truth be told; you should be careful with that.

Sure the search engines will bring you back a million answers back;

however, it is thee librarian that will bring you the correct answer back.
@StevieStreets #librarydiaries #poem | FACT or FICTION? 

The Bank of Life

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Make Every Second Count… then learn to Master Your Minutes; 

we all 24 hours in The Bank of Life, 

how you choose to spend those 24 hours should be in your best interest someway. 
What you do with the 24 hours that you are granted in The Bank of Life 

will either increase or deplete your return on investment each day.
When you begin to see that each day is one of one, 

you will soon begin to see that there’s a big difference between one day and day one. 
@StevieStreets #timemanagement #insights #poem | The Bank of Life

The Card Catalog

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Do you remember the time….

when libraries were filled with card catalogs, cardigans, and spectacles?
Do you remember the time…

when the library ladies wore their hair in a bun,

back when hearing the words “reading opens your mind to worlds of wonders” so much fun,

when thumbing through a card catalog was quite the spectacle?
Do you remember…

when Saturday mornings at the library were filled with family fun,

back when you were taught to use your inside voice and SHHH was the rule of thumb,

back when your search engines were The Card Catalog or a Superhero Library Lady caped with a cardigan and masked with a pair of spectacles?
Do you remember the time…

when you first discovered the book was better than the movie,

back when the childrens librarian first taught you how to Dewey,

when thumbing through a card catalog was quite the spectacle?
@StevieStreets #vintage #datlibrarylife #poem | The Card Catalog

Stretch Marks

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Her stretch marks were like another layer of goodness;

sorta like caramel drizzled on an ooey gooey chocolate brownie sundae.
@StevieStreets #stretchmarksarebeautiful #poem| Stretch Marks: an ode to all the women with layers of goodness

The Art of Love

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I wanna paint art on the walls that you built around your heart.

I can’t promise to erase the hurt,

I can only speak of the love that we can start.

Baby, we can create new memories;

let’s throw the bad memories out.

The world is a canvas, let’s make art.

Maybe we can canvass the world,

hold hands in the park.

I know emotional walls come from a legitimate place;

it’s an easy defense mechanism, when you need to feel safe.

I know your heart needs to heal,

I can give you both time and space

but I’d rather take you dancing in the rain to erase the uncried tears from your face.

Baby, we can create new memories;

let me turn your Heartbreak Hotel into a gallery space.

Let me show you all the magic that an artisan of love could make;

let me remind you that even at your worse you’re great.

I know at times you’re insecure as f***

but you are more than enough

and I adore you nevertheless, 

sweetheart, you are a work of art.

l know you’ve been running from relationships,

putting up walls to protect your heart

but I just wanna run my fingers through your hair,

ease your fear, kiss your forehead, keep you near,

kiss your neck, massage hands, nibble on your ear,

rub your feet, massage your mental,

explore the depths of your heart.

I see the vulnerable wild abandon in your eyes,

I see the capacity for empathy in your face;

I can’t promise to erase the hurt,

I can only speak of the love that we can start.

Baby, we can create new memories;

let’s throw the bad memories out.

The world is a canvas, let’s make art.

Maybe we can canvass the world,

hold hands in the park.

I wanna paint art on the walls that you built around heart.

Let me turn your Heartbreak Hotel into a gallery space.

Let’s go dancing in the rain to erase the uncried tears from your face.

I know emotional walls come from a legitimate place…

But what am I to do, knowing I love you

and you’re out here with uncried tears on your face?

What am I to do, when I’m out here like The Balcony Scene, 

adoring the windows of your soul like The Starry Night?

What am I to do, knowing that the walls that you are building will hide me from your eyes?

What am I to do, knowing that the walls that you have built to keep your heart safe

are the same walls that will put the mask of night upon thine face?

Oh love, sweet love! Wherefore art thou love?

Let’s turn this Heartbreak Hotel into a gallery space.

Let’s throw the bad memories out;

let’s go dancing in the rain to erase the uncried tears from your face.

Oh love, sweet love,

help this hopeless romanctic put the art in your heart once more.

Let me paint art on the walls that you built around your heart, forevermore.

@StevieStreets #hopelessromantic #poem | The Art of Love

Pamombeau

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Pamombeau…

’cause a person’s name is the sweetest sound in any language,

as Dale Carnegie would say.
Pamombeau…

’cause whenever I said your name

you would smile brighter than a sunray.
Pamombeau…

’cause I know you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Pamombeau…

my dear friend, I will always remember the last time we spoke;

you were so happy, you said your headaches have finally gone away.
Pamombeau…

my dear friend, I’ll always hold onto to that day;

’cause when I said Pamombeau you smiled then asked if we could pray.
A few days later I got the call stating that you were in ICU 

and didn’t know what to say.
However, when Kristie told me to talk to you in ICU,

I knew exactly what to say.
I held your hand and said Pamombeau,

hoping that you would respond in some way.
You moved your legs, Kristie exclaimed “SHE RESPONDED,”

as I fought through a panic attack, thinking “no way.”
Pamombeau…

You taught me to always be mindful of what I say.
Thank you for being a friend,

thank you for always having kind words to say.
Thank you for telling Mr. John that I was kind to you at the library;

I still can’t believe how he hired me the next day.
Thank you for bringing me into the fold at Kohl’s;

I still live the “Yes We Can” mantra everyday.
Thank you for joining the chicken biscuit club on Saturdays;

I’ll never forget when you nonchalantly told me 

“I know you, Lydia, and Jan usually get Bojangles but… 

I bought Chick-fil-A 

and Chick-fil-A is better than Bojangles anway.”
Farewell Pamombeau…

I’m so glad that the last time we spoke you asked if we could pray.
Farewell Pamombeau…

’cause a person’s name is the sweetest sound in any language,

as Dale Carnegie would say.
Although, you were most affectionately known as Beau…

I think this one’s gonna be entitled Pamombeau 

’cause whenever I said your name

you would smile brighter than a sunray.
Farewell Pamombeau…

your name will always be an ode to Pam and Beau,

as you used to say.
As I bid my final Farewell, Pamombeau…

I think we’ll call this one Pamombeau,

as an ode to you today.
@StevieStreets #homage #poem | Pamombeau

Farewell to my Matriarch

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Head in my hands… holding back these tears,
thinking about the woman who taught me to always face my fears.

It’s kind of funny cause I was told the first years of my life I wouldn’t cry…
I remember everyone thinking there was something wrong with me cause I wouldn’t cry;
but as long as I remember, I remember sitting next to my Aunt Elsie so I wouldn’t cry.
I remember the times she would let me spend the day with her so I wouldn’t cry.

I don’t know where I got the wisdom to tell her people are like piranhas and tears are like blood,
when she asked why I wouldn’t cry.
To this day I could hear her voice when she said it’s okay baby you’re with me go on an’ cry.

She taught me the value of family, in my troubled youth she kept me by her side.
She told me to keep my brother by my side,
she’s the reason why people still call me Stephen and Kai;
even when I’m by myself… and they don’t see Kai.

Head in my hands… tryin’ not to cry,
thinking ‘bout how she always made me my own pan of cornbread;
the last time I seen her she made me a few pans of pie.

Today as I bid farewell to my matriarch,
I find comfort in knowing she made everyone think they were special
when she gave them the gift of a pie.

I know they’re having a soul food Sunday in heaven,
I know Aunt Elsie gon’ show ‘em how to make macaroni and cheese,
cornbread, and sweet potato pie.

Today as I bid farewell to my matriarch,
yet I find comfort in knowing my heritage;
uncle Donald told me you were named after my Great Grandmother, I now know why.

Aunt Elsie… you were more than my Great Aunt;
you were everything to the boy that wouldn’t cry.
I know grandma Nancy saved a Pokeno board for you and aunt Pee Wee in the sky.

@StevieStreets #homage #poem | Farewell to my Matriarch

Inner Glow

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When your inner glow is too bright,

they can’t help but throw shade.
Never let their cloudy judgements rain on your parade.
Keep shining like the sun, 

let ’em throw shade. 
Nothing can dim the light that shines from within,

let ’em throw shade.
Their insecurities are not your issue,

don’t let ’em rain on your parade.
Remember, your inner glow is too bright,

they can’t help but throw shade.
When you create your own sunshine,

they wanna rain on your parade.
Sometimes you gotta remind yourself, 

haters gonna hate; keep shining anyway… 
Come rain, sleet, hail, snow

when you live life golden,

you shine on any day.
When you cultivate your inner glow…

in the garden of life your presence is like a sunbeam anyway.
The moral of the story…

when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Sometimes we must be intentional;

the sun doesn’t care if it blinds you,

don’t dim your light for no one.

Keep shining like the sun,

let ’em throw shade.
Never let their cloudy judgements rain on your parade.
DON’T TRY TO FIT IN…

even the sun stands alone,

let ’em throw shade.
When your walking on sunshine,

the music in your soul will have you doin’ the moonwalk in the rain.
When you learn to trust your dopeness,

you’ll see your inner peace is infinite

and they’ll never be able to extinguish your flame.
When you realize the sun, rain, and dirt are one in the same,

you must continue to plant seeds of joy amidst the dirt that they throw on your name.
You must continue to plant seeds of joy amidst the dirt that they throw on your name.
You must continue to plant seeds of joy amidst the dirt that they throw on your name.
@StevieStreets #keepshining #poem | Inner Glow

You Are Who You Think You Are

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It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not. -Basquiat | #youareenough

#codeofthestreets: 

Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing that it is stupid. -Einstein

You’re never who they say you are, 

you are beautiful, 

you are magic, 

you are everything; 

in essence you are who you think you are 

and so much more.

Energy is everything, 

therefore, as a man thinketh he shall be… 

if you believe it you can achieve it; 

when you open your mind’s eye, you will see so much more. 

One may never elevate higher than his thoughts,

therefore, you must turn up a book and master the art of positive self talk. 

@StevieStreets | You Are What You Think You Are