The Poet, The Muse, and The Poems


, , , , , , ,

For the same reason that sonnets were written about Laura;
like the balcony scene in Romeo & Juliet,
like the sweet sound of songbirds in duet,
I became a hopeless romantic the moment I saw her.

@StevieStreets | Love, Love, Love (the poet, the muse, and the poems) abridged

Calla Lilies


, , , , , ,

lovely as a calla lily…
magnificent and beautiful,
sophisticated and powerful;
she bloomed mystically.

sweeter than a red lemon…
radiant as a yellow calla lily,
iconic as an afro bloomin’, sisterlocks, or 9-ether versatility;
the black woman blooms a little brighter than most women.

@StevieStreets #wcw / #nobedofroses #poem | Calla Lilies: Invocation to the Muse revisited

Too wOke for The American Dream


, , , , , , , , ,

i’m too wOke for the american dream…
if they ain’t tryna kill us, they’re tryna turn us to feigns.
the country’s divided without the wall and it ain’t got nothing to do with skin color; stay wOke my brother, it’s all about capitalist green.
all i know is: the walls are closing in on trump and it’s getting hard to overlook the walls of justice as tough on crime proponents push to legalize green.
how am i supposed to care about your opioid crisis or your medical excuse for drug use when your prisons are filled with my brothers and sisters that tried to scale the walls of justice with triple beam dreams?

when we gonna talk about the unbalanced scale of justice or how the war on drugs mandate fostered the most horrific holocaust to date?
i don’t understand how conservatives are so pro-life when it comes to a woman’s decision yet so tolerant to our brothers and sisters being buried alive in prisons.
why should i worry about a wall at the mexico border, when our brothers and sisters in flint, michigan have been left out to dry amid food deserts and lead-contaminated water?

flint can’t drink tears or well wishes;
my heart is heavy; first they flooded our neighborhoods with drugs then they bombed they levees.
the flint water crisis is biological warfare!
why the cdc put a patent on the ebola virus?
these white supremacists (oops i meant biochemists) have been killing us off for years.

when we gonna talk about the mass murderers that manufactured aids and hiv?
i wonder why they ain’t want bill cosby to purchase nbc.
why we can’t get states to mandate the marijuana justice act before they legalize dispensaries?
i don’t wanna see the world up in smoke while my brothers and sisters with drug convictions are still sitting in penitentiaries.
so no! i don’t care to hear how medical marijuana stops your children from having seizures; f’ you and your legislative bill, last time i checked: our communities are still paying the price of your stop and frisk seizures.

@StevieStreets #artisactivism #poem | Too wOke for The American Dream

🎨: unknown

Thrive on Plant-Based Protein


, , , , , ,

for those that ask “what are you doing for protein?”

broccoli has more protein than beef,
don’t ask me what i’m doing for protein?

to say the least, the strongest animals alive thrive on plant-based protein?

the hardest challenge eye’ve faced during Meatless March has been channelling zen in the wake of those that refuse to see the benefits of a moor organic life.

minus a pescatarian cheat-day, our Meatless March Challenge is rooted in planting the seeds to help branch out towards a more natural life.

now that the elephant’s in the room, don’t make me go ape sh!t; quit the monkey business, stop acting like protein-power does not stem from a plant-based life.

how long ’til you stop beefing with the vegans & vegetarians and explore the vegeculture?

if you can’t Go Meatless, consider healing with wholefoods; food is medicine and the next breakthrough in radiant health shall be rooted in urban agriculture.

in the garden of life, a plant-based lifestyle oughta be at the helm of the culture.

@StevieStreets for @vegeculture365 / #vegeculture #moororganic | Thrive on Plant-Based Protein


📷: @diosana_health

February 21, 1965


, , , , ,

February Twenty-First, Nineteen Sixty-Five

The fiery soul of a gallant man was extinguished
Yet the spirit is still alive

As brother Fred Hampton would say:
They can kill the revolutionary
Yet they can’t kill the revolution

In Sixty-Five, they tried to silence the messenger – Malcolm X
Yet his message resounds in 1964 The Black Revolution

It’s been fifty-four years since the political assassination
And the battle cry of freedom still remains in brown eyes

I know what kind of world I’d like to see
Yet why should I lose my identity before the world hears my freedom-cries?

Why should I exercise nonviolence while the strong arm of the law has a chokehold on my brothers and sisters?

If it’s equal rights and justice for all,
Why does the prison industrial complex overtly produce a genocidal gripping on our brothers and sisters?

When is Uncle Sam gonna be charged with violating human rights?

Imagine BLACK LIVES MATTER when the fight for civil rights is expanded to human rights

It’s time for the Black Man to come to the defense of the Black Man;
When the Black Man in this country aids the Black Man in that country
And the Black Man in that country aids the Black Man in this country,
As Black Men unite all around the world,
We’ll have a real revolution

And I ain’t talking that We Shall Overcome,
That is no revolution

“Revolutions will never be won by turning the other cheek!”
As Brother Malcolm used to speak

But don’t mind me;
I just had to take a moment to pay homage to El Haj Malik

@StevieStreets long live #elhajmalikelshabazz #poem | February 21, 1965

of life and lessons


, , , ,

life and lessons:
you only get one life to live yet you gotta count ya blessings.

nowadays if i’m not engaged in self-talk,
i discourse with those that have returned to the heavens.

arm – leg – leg – arm – head,
da god body gets busy anywhere on god’s green earth
yet most of my friends are resting in heaven.

i rose from hell, i fell from heaven, i’ve been counted out so many times yet they never accounted for the blessings.

god, show me another way, i need another day,
sometimes a brother pray, sometimes a brother prey.
please don’t let me lose my way;
i hear what they never say,
what more could i say?!
in my darkest hour, i visualized a brighter day.
i’m from where the clouds are gray, i need a brighter day;
as the god nas would say:
i need a new n**** for this black cloud to follow
cause while it’s over me it’s too dark to see tomorrow.

@StevieStreets for #thesearemyconfessions #poem | of life and lessons

Prophets > Profits


, , , ,

When I was poor, I made poor choices.

I’m not wealthy yet I’m the richest I’ve ever been in my life.

I mean, I have a million dollar mindset mainly in part of the generous souls that took time to deposit a little love in my life.

Thumbing through the memory banks of life, it’s safe to say my rich spirit is an accumulation of the wealth of knowledge I received from the voices.

As one may never travel further than one’s thoughts, I’d advise you to pay close attention to the books that you read and the people that you meet.

There’s so much to be gained when you take an interest in others;
As the adage goes: you tend to help yourself each time you help another.

When you consider the human race and withdraw the hate, you’ll see that we’re all sisters and brothers;
If education is the passport from poverty, I just want to minister information to my sisters and brothers.

Once upon a time I caught jewels from those that live life golden,
Now that I’m living life like it’s golden I pay it forward by dropping gems in the street.

For those that listen,
Wisdom cries out to the streets.

I do it for those imprisoned,
Indigo Children, and men and women who wanna make it out of the streets.

Take it from me,
Nothing will change your life faster than the books that you read and the people that you meet.

Would you believe if I told you you are super rich without a red cent?
Yeah it doesn’t make sense like “your life will become more fulfilled when you master the art of needing less” defies your current logic.

Don’t worry, one day it’ll all make sense.
Many moons ago, tryna make a dollar out of fifteen cents had me sitting in the streets tryna make a profit.

I was told if you change your mind, you’ll change your life; I’ve been hooked on books ever since.
For wisdom is worth far more than silver and gold, if you see me sitting in the streets now, I’m tryna hear the prophets.

@StevieStreets #ism #poem | Prophets > Profits

The Strings Tying Us Together (Defining Culture)


, , , , , ,

The ARTS tend to bring us together…

Even in a war torn world,
poetry – music – and art would always string together

In the symphony of life,
That little art in heART shall help us heART the ARTS and connect us forever

Although, at times, we may find it hard to string together common ground,
As we orchestrate our differences in the key of life, the culture of us shall resound

As the inclusiveness of the violin, viola, cello, double bass, and harp string together a beautiful sound,
So too shall the diversity of us create harmony

For the strings tying us together shall always be tied to peace – love – and harmony,
the common ground collective shall always be found in the beauty of banding together

My poems are not poems…
Yet my heartstrings strike a chord amongst those that see the beauty in banding together

And I say that to say:
How long must ye single each other out before ye band together?

As the poets put words together,
The musicians bring instruments together,
And the artists blend colors together,
So too must all walks of mankind come together

As dialect is not detected in laughter,
Joy is the instrument that brings forth the cliché “that is music to my ears!”

For how sweet the sound of a foreign dialect,
When love is the universal language and common ground is shared

To become familiar with your neighbor’s traditions and customs is to erase your fears

-StevieStreets #thecultureofus #poem | The Strings Tying Us Together (Defining Culture)



“When we’re defining culture, it’s often about how you can turn something that’s not yours into your own. I always felt that Bach was my music — I lived my whole life living and experiencing this music almost every day. It’s in my skin, it’s in my bones, it’s in my memory – it’s in all my experiences. And I believe that until we stop becoming human, Bach’s music is going to be continually listened to, because of the kind of understanding that he brings to human nature. It is one way that #cultureconnectsus.”

-@yoyoma.official | Prélude to Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 Six Evolutions

Who All Over There? / Alone Not Lonely


, ,

gentle reminder:

Who all over there?
Yeah, I’ll probably slide through…
keyword: “PROBABLY” 🤓

@StevieStreets #introversion #haiku | Who All Over There?


Introvert problems…
I convene with the spirits
Alone not lonely

@StevieStreets #infj #haiku | Alone Not Lonely

Since We’re Talking (Let’s Talk About The Talk)


, , , ,

Around the time when children learn their ABC’s,
Kids that look like me learn how to survive The New Jim Crow.

I remember when my Grandmother told me:
“Grandson you can’t be outside playing with no toy gun!”

She always feared them boys in blue would come through and shoot me for playing with a toy gun.

I remember learning about police killings while the neighborhood children were playing in the snow.

I remember when my Grandmother told me:
“Look at me boy. And pay close attention.
I know you are young, gifted, and black
But to them
You will always FIT THE DESCRIPTION.”

O how the fear in her eyes pierced my soul…
She feared when I let my hair grow.
She feared when I wore a hoodie.

I remember wondering:
Why is that Black Children can’t wear a ski mask when it’s cold?
Why are Black Men considered militant when we let our hair grow?
How they don’t mistake the white kids for hoodlums when they wear a hoodie?

Yet what I remember most about talking with my Grandmother was her affinity for her people…
Always dressed in black.
I remember the little lady that never took no shorts.
I remember the little lady that taught me to dream BIG.
I remember her wise words.
I remember her convictions.

I remember how Grandma would speak life unto me,
But for the life of me,
I can’t remember discussing the birds and the bees.
Yet I remember “The Talk.”

I remember self-care over welfare…
Nah, I don’t remember the birds and the bees.
Yet I remember many Talks.

O Grandma
I remember when you said:
“In the sixties, over 70% of the world’s dope fiends lived right here in New York.”

I now understand what you meant when you said they’d rather see us dead, addicted, or imprisoned.

Thank you for demanding that I take command of the language
And thirst knowledge.
Who knows who I’d be if you didn’t feed my poetic diction.

My poems are not poems…
My moral compass guides me to draw attention to social injustice, systemic racism, and other afflictions.

@StevieStreets #historyheritageandhumanities #poem | Since We’re Talking (Let’s Talk About The Talk)