All posts by TechSizzle

Supershero (UNSTUCK remix)

We wild women ride railroads with combat boots strapped / laced tight protecting our sheep because our children sleep with nightmares 

We keep our emotions frozen from fiction in his storybooks / We the daughters of Sheba heirs to the throne / We imbibe intuition / we bear our burden on backs barren / Our gender specific / we are the Superwomen

The ladies to give birth to revolutions in boardrooms break rooms, bodegas and brothels where some of us finance romance due to personal circumstance 

We survive

They call us She short for Supershero 

We build bridges that generations will cross / We crochet uniforms for matching armies / We pray, repeat scripture, some chant namaste and sing warrior lullabies

We connect with ancestors for answers to questions that six year olds conceive. In Alabama, where blood colored soil echoes the dreams of four little angels / We climb heights with deer and send out warnings of lightening and thunder / Rain cleanses our wounds / we get in formation so we are positioned for battle / again 

We strive

They call us She short for Supershero

 Our memories are like elephants and our swords are like tusks / We travel in packs and use our weapons when necessary / Our words pierce through flesh that is diseased

Some of us our doctors / some midwives / Some serve as council / the rest of us wait / We stir up our gifts and barter with dignity to gain honor

Friends and fruit we choose carefuly / Wisdom is our passport for this sojourn  / And we rub cocoa butter on scars to mend broken bones

We stay alive

They call us She short for Supershero

We look until we find the red orange yellow sunset / We don’t sleep cause we tired of being tired

We rise until we kiss the sky

Our mothers are silent because they cannot speak / It is our time and we must rely on the moon inside / The tide current / the tomatoes ripe / the harvest ready

The virtuous woman in the mirror is UNSTUCK

And she’ll manipulate physics to make the earth rotate with her cycle / The marrow of her elegant bones is where Solomon hid his riches

Our names are written by scribes and translated into hieroglyphics

We are prolific 

We are fried fish, candied yams, collard greens, mac and cheese, sweet tea with hot water cornbread on the side please

We are soul food thoroughbreds, so call us by name

We are Julie Dash, Shab Bahadori, Mata Hari, Zora Neale Hurston 

Brenda Stewart, Ava Duvernay, Tige Charity, Michelle Obama, Dr. Pastor Andrea Humphry and Queen Esther / 

So we don’t need Charlie to be angels

Only God

We thrive

They call us She short for Supershero

We forget and then we remember / We are single mothers with five mouths to feed / We succeed 

We are crackheads with habits trading places with movie stars / We breathe

We are aid to dependent children / We breed

We are public in our quests to conquer the world / We are the United States of Women, chairs of the board, senators and Presidents 

We are more than hashtags and moments / We are movements all by ourselves / We are free

They call us She short for Supershero

 As we walk miles on roads less traveled  / With shoes tight around our ankles / The footprints we make are indelibly recorded on the iPads of little girls who play TikTok with other little girls who Snapchat the lesson to little boys

Our names are documented in court dockets / Scribbled on prison walls in notebooks and typed in code by paralegals

We are eagles

We ride or die for the masses / We are hope for the hopeless

Our wombs are habitats for humanity / We make no excuses and apologize only to ourselves

Our men call us blessed and learn Lamaze giving pause for the cause

They call us she / short for Supershero

So when they see us gleaning in the fields like Ruth, with the shining humility of diamonds and topaz / they won’t have to wonder how we bagged Boaz

They’ll just respect the swag and call us by name

Because only the unattainable can render us insane

SHOTGUN KISS


dangerous lips touch
one tongue / one fire
if lust reeked of smoke
would it be called fatal desire?
flesh stained sheets /

no heartbeat
you take aim with firearm charm
clenched fists / yet
your benevolent bullets

always miss

Be anxious for nothing

I am a poet.

I write and make films about…

Black, brown, yellow, tan and red people
Rainbow lies and sunshine
Faith and fear
Flesh and bone
Life in the shadow of death
The bread of prosperity and
The crumbs of poverty
Love, pain, shame, and joy
Inherent prejudice / innate compassion
The power of the oppressed / the freedom to be
Underdog champions
The brave / the bold beings
The forgotten and remembered
I give birth to characters that fight on their feet
On bended knee or their backs
Who speak in dialects, languages and tongues
With the spirit of a shero, a hero or regular Joe
Who rise from ashes / the gutter or ghetto
To find beauty

I create worlds with
Re-imagined realities / possibilities
Ripe with raw honesty
Uncomfortable truths
Begging for answers to problems
We all bury within our hearts
But find them in our shared souls
Our commonalities / our wonderful differences

I tell stories that unite / make us cry
And make us wonder why not

I am most proud of a blank page that I can make sing
I am excited about the imaginations of young people
I have walked as a docent in the wilderness of struggle
Was fed by ravens when I was homeless
Sipped tea from brooks and rivers with other starving artists
Where we hid in the cleft of the rock until it was time

A loss is just a win turned inside out
You can choose to be a warrior or a worrier
Adversity is a necessity / a coefficient in the formula
for success / do the math / live long and multiply

When you are built to win you never worry
So be anxious for nothing except the sun

bad news/good news

Dear Occupant,

The hotel you’ve been squatting in has been purchased by a major chain and the trusted concierge who let you live out of one of our lower-rate rooms has been fired.

Effective immediately.

Please gather your belongings and exit the premises.

Now for the good news.

The mayor announced today that the rate of homelessness is down 0.001% in the City of Los Angeles.

Good luck!

The Management

umbrella


you and i have saved ourselves from the scorching sun / financial downpours / emotional tornadoes / sticks and stones

we have sheltered ourselves on hot summer nights / kissing like kids under mistletoe / dancing under cloudy skies with wet feet

this tattered umbrella has been our shield / our armored breastplate our testimony / our strength / our declaration that

we ain’t fair-weather folk / we the sunshine kind