Monday, March 31, 2025

UNNECESSARY GRATITUDE

*Inspired by my friend's harrowing experience with a police officer during a traffic stop, which she thankfully survived.*


I should not have to thank you 

for not killing me

 

Physically or mentally

 

Your grace 

when it comes to my well-being

my being

should not cause me 

to praise dance

should not make 

other women envious 

as if I have a monopoly

on that level of luck


When I call my girls 

to express relief 

about the tragedy 

I narrowly survived that day 

I should not 

be talking about you


When our glances connect

I should not 

have to devise

an impromptu escape plan

should not regret discontinuing 

lessons at the shooting range

should not be trying to discern

which of my keys 

will effectively 

mutilate your eyeball


When you say my name

it should not sound like 

Five-0 on bullhorn

creak of rusty prison doors

a funeral hymn

or dirt being shoveled 

onto my casket


When I say your name

your response should give

favorite soul-soothing 

old-school slow jam 

that sparks canyon-wide grin


It should not

be giving Candyman


Your touch should be

73-degree beach breeze

tracing love notes in cursive

across my skin 

not

concussions

roadmap-trail bruises

and crushed-ice bones


I should not have to appreciate 

that your Incredible Hulk

did not choose

violence today


But please

dispense these morsels

of gratitude to him quickly


I hope they're enough

to keep him tame


I already know

I wouldn't like him

when he's angry


©2025 Charlene E. Green

From my upcoming book

Check My Documents 



Thursday, March 13, 2025

FRESH HELL

In the wake of your exit

my cells have undergone 

wrenching transmutation

vexed at your unapproved absence

upchucking agony

quivering with dread

paralyzed as I stare

at the blinking walk sign


Because where am I going

without you?


Always been here

wisdom-feeding me thru

thousand-puzzle-piece lessons

too foreign for me to translate

your inner griot 

IV-dripping me healed

love potion surfing your tongue 

insight in every splash against my mind

quenching my thirst for your knowledge 

Google could NEVER


How will I triumph 

without you?


In the midnight of your gone

I realize my task is to now 

create my own walk

have confidence that 

my internal compass exists 

is as trustworthy as 

the one in you I've been borrowing 

these steps I've taken

have merely been my soles

mimicking your path

your GPS thru life

my main coordinates 

I need to get oriented fast 

cuz directing myself feels like 

roaming the Everglades 

at 2 a.m.

with my eyes dilated


Where will I end up

without you?


Your life 

was my favorite season

a fifth one

called Nurture

where the fruits

of your labor

hung low enough

on your branches

for me to reach

sink my teeth into

their pharmaceutic flesh

slurp their various juices 

equal parts sweet and tart

cuz sometimes

the support you get

ain't the flavor you expect 

but it's always 

the kind you need

to keep your level-up strong

and 

the way you 

provided warm breezes

on my cold-hearted days

shifting my perspective 

so I could see love clearly

saved me time and again 


How will I thrive 

without you?


I have never been good with numbers

but I'm positive that having you

zeroed out of this equation 

has left a negative balance 

in my heart

from losing access

to the spiritual currency

you used to let me withdraw from

when I struggled

to invest in me

the same amount of faith

you always did

and 

everyone knows

lack of self-trust

is the price you pay 

for co-dependency

which is liable

to bankrupt your sanity


So here I am

with 

none of you

more me than I know

how to count on right now

an ache so deep 

in the forest of my bones

that it inhibits me from

calculating the blessings I have

cuz your body in my presence

is no longer one of them

and 

a small deposit of hope

that in due time

this hell will decline

I will see 

the full scope of my worth

utilize the guidance

you left me with

and cash in on the happiness 

I've always owed myself


Listen to audio here:

https://www.reverbnation.com/hustlediva/song/34899421-fresh-hell


©2025 Charlene E. Green

From my upcoming book

Check My Documents




Saturday, March 8, 2025

OTHER DUTIES AS REQUIRED

When a woman tells you

she's tired

she does not need you

to suggest

that she rest more

as if when she rises

there will be less

for her to champion


A woman's body may be

still with slumber

but her spirit

is always on the clock

covering every neglected post


Simultaneously cleaning up

and enduring

trauma

sometimes freshly spilled

most times unhealed

hers and the world's

always the world's first


She'd love to "do her"

but she's consumed with

being the question

and the answer

sunshine and nourishment

cup half empty

flickering pilot light

the problem

when she takes too long

delivering the solution


When a woman tells you

she's tired

what she really means

is lean in

to your prowess

instead of piling

all your weight

onto her scales

forcing her off balance

toppling her to the floor

to her knees

in tears

and prayer


Your shift

begins now


Gather supplies

revisit the free training

she provides you daily

show her you understand

the assignment

and get 

to work


©2025 Charlene E. Green

From my upcoming book

Check My Documents

Friday, December 6, 2024

GARDEN POLITICS

We orphans are the flowers 

who've wilted and begun to perish 

lifeline energy snipped 

from our physical world 


We astonish our counterparts

who don't know 

how to act around us

if we're gonna make it

if we're even worth 

trying to save


We orphans adopt a new language

others can't understand 

jargon to their ears

yet we still converse 

with them in our native lingo

celebrate fertilized memories 

of parental grounding 

woven thru our tongues' soil

rife with nutrients from their love

watering us with courage 

as we sprouted and blossomed our way

thru this dirty plot

that continued to thicken

amid painful growth spurts

brown-thumbs mishandling us

observers blind to our value 

careless feet

overstepping boundaries 

trampling our good nature


We still hold the knowledge 

of their presence 

sway with our comrades

in the breeze

among dewy grass

musing over the seeds 

that produced our elegance


Until grief Mack-trucks us

we're plowed into code switch

and they're forced 

out of the conversation 


Admirers gawk at us quizzically 

asking our thriving peers 

what's wrong with us

how long have we been this way

is this how it's always gonna be?


They say 

our grim disposition 

and withered leaves  

are devaluing the real estate

Can't someone pluck us already?


Paling colors are concerning 

Is there any way we can 

brighten up?


Have the green-thumbs 

tended to us recently

laid healing hands 

upon our decaying petals

spoken life back into our nuclei? 

Can we be resuscitated?

 

If not

what are the mandates going forward?

Are we still considered part of the bouquet?

Will we be allowed to continue residing here?


Our roots have died

 

What's the policy on our positioning 

if we're kept around?

Shouldn't we be relegated 

to our own section of the patch?

What is anyone supposed to do with us

in this condition?


They label us special needs

question our health-care system

campaign against 

our unpredictable behavior 

vote No on our chances

for survival


But our horticulturist 

assures doubters

even though we're weeping 

souls mollywhopped

by our creators' absence

we're not detrimental to the garden

there's plenty of life

left in our cells

rejuvenation is highly probable 

with deft approach 

lil sugar in their tone

respect that we may now 

be off balance

awkward lean to our stem

lotta patience as they gently

support its posturing 

assist with 

pruning spiritual debris 

prepping us for resurrection 

within this story's fated twist

where 

the sun can reenergize us

chlorophyll ferociously swigging its rays

as we breathe again

steady and sure

make an unexpected comeback

and be beautiful enough 

to turn heads

like never before


©2024 Charlene E. Green

From my upcoming book Check My Documents


Tuesday, August 20, 2024

ONE THING'S FOR CERTAIN

You will cry

and when tears fall

do not interrupt.


Let them clean house

sloughing mire 

from your spirit.


Let them tell your stories

in whatever tone they want

for however long

speak without censor

be rude and unruly

act out monologues

you've been rehearsing

in your mind for years

quote you in liquefied code

in ways your mouth 

can't find words for.


Whether the time of day

is convenient

or the space you're in

feels safe enough 

to be vulnerable

you will cry

not of your own volition

but because tears 

can only take so much neglect

will only wait so long

for you

to acknowledge them.


Give them license

to be misfits

let them tantrum-splatter 

stigma

secrets

and woe

all up 'n' thru 

grocery stores

knocking down bottles and jars

puncturing packages

clean-up on every aisle

barrel through restaurants

smashing plates 

flipping tables

be runaway slaves

at the gym

stealthily escaping 

among sweat

stampeding from your brow

be handy assistants

at the post office

sealing envelopes 

with the slick of your sorrow.


Let them be chaos

in these streets

explode like firecrackers

across concrete

scream obscenities

rage against Inner-War You

horrify onlookers

as they bungee jump 

from your cheeks

land with fury

like Godzilla's stomp

causing public uproar

same intensity 

as the one inside them

battering their chakras.


Do not shame yourself 

hide your facial wreckage

or let people 

exasperated with their

emotional barrenness 

convince you that

your tears are 

ghastly

unnecessary

let them witness

the storm fleeing your body

purifying your soul

let them marvel 

take notes 

learn how to navigate

tempestuous salty rivers

teach them how to sail

through crisis

remind them that

crying 

is the natural order of things

because

all human life

begins with tears

at birth.


It is not a punk move

it's checkmate.


Show them they can cry

should cry

now

lock eyes with them

hold strong

don't blink

let tears flood your rims

feel them quake pre-descent

deep breath in

through nose

let the muscles

in that lump in your throat 

relax

delicate exhale

through lips

nod gently at your student

as if to say

"It's time," 

and like green light

signal them to wail

louder than the hellion

voices in their head

aggressively 

for optimal toxin release 

proudly

like they know

they finally squared up

with their gaslighting demons

invite them to accompany you 

in overdue riddance

of internal grotesque.


Tell them

to tell a friend 

to join the movement 

each one teach one

cuz cry 

is first responder

urgent care

purge

self-preservation 

gift

mental health restored

fresh start

it is 

revolution

evolution

punctuation.


You will

prepared or not

lose control

and cry 

for love

apology

grief

lack of justice

relief

for the life you want

the one you had

for delayed prayers

wisdom and answers

to excavate hate

accept whys

say good-bye


to reclaim peace.


©2024 Charlene E. Green

 


Wednesday, May 1, 2024

PORTRAIT

Love 

is a perplexed newborn

fresh from the womb

afterbirth clinging to eyes

jiggling on twitching limbs

ejecting first scream

startled by its own pitch

yearning to meet the woman

whose canal it swam 

into a world of uncertainty

searching the frosty room

for directions 

back to her warmth


Love 

is 93 years old

on deathbed

best life lived

all goals accomplished

regret and debt free

unbothered by its

dwindling bodily functions

ready to fly

nothing left to do here

had all the peace

it prayed and worked for

left its healing

across the globe

so as last breath

crawls through cracked lips

they melt serenely

into a smile 

shaped like contentment


Love 

wears skirts and three-piece suits

smells good

speaks a pretty language

gives hope

does dishes without being asked

remembers birthdays

anniversaries 

says please and thanks

lemme get that for you

shows up for everyone

with bells on

even itself


Love 

is also covered 

in skull-and-bone tattoos

wears durags and bandanas

sports a mouth full of gold

drinks too much sometimes

gets into arguments

cusses a little

or a lot

depending on the day

and who pushed the envelope

too far

serves an unnerving side-eye

misses the mark 

of righteousness weekly

but always

opens wife's doors

never pulls off

with her in the passenger seat

of the vintage Impala

without ensuring her sundress

is properly draped

across her thighs

touches her like

its job is to guarantee

she never breaks

kisses her sweetly 

on the nose 

every night before bed 

is introspective 

remorseful

and willing 

to do better next time


After bullies

took new kid's lunch

Love 

broke its turkey sandwich

and the last double-fudge brownie

it fought its brother for

that morning

in half

with post-playground hands

and shared


On a day that felt like

the sun needed anger management 

Love

dashed into the street

commanded erratic traffic

like a salaried crossing guard

scooped up a near-slain bird

from the scalding pavement

bare-handed

and sprinted its limp 

bloody body

two miles to the vet


Occasionally

Love 

sleeps through the alarm

wakes up groggy

and takes half the day off

cuz it ain't always

runnin' on a full tank

but

never lets itself deplete


Somebody shoulda told you

Love and Exhaustion

are on a first-name basis 


In the real world

Love 

goes to prison

for losing its temper

deep in 

the barrel of a gun

the thrust of a blade

for losing control

behind the wheel of a car


CNN will fill you in

on Monday's "Things got out of hand"

Thursday's "It wasn't supposed

to happen like that"

Sunday's "But...it was an accident"


Last week

Love 

stole four-figure meds 

for Gran-Gran

diapers and food for the twins

and lied on the job application


Somebody shoulda told you

Love 

does whatever 

it thinks is necessary 

to survive and save lives


Judge if you want

but until you've hobbled

Forrest Gump miles

in this Love's oppressive shoes

fearing the worst

for people you adore the best

just smile

wave

and look the other way


Today

Love 

didn't brush its teeth

comb its hair

or shower

cuz Love 

don't always feel 

a hundred percent

but that don't mean

it won't try to give it


So it crunched

a handful of Altoids

across plaqued teeth

put on its most appropriate hat:

the Nike beanie

prayed it wouldn't smell

like what it had been through

the day before 

and went

where it was needed most


Love 

is good at being

where it's needed most

and known 

for being tightly tucked

in places 

it's hard to recognize


How many faces of Love

have you seen?


How many faces of Love

have you worn?


©2024 Charlene E. Green







Sunday, March 31, 2024

CLIMATE CHANGE

Rain

be a deep spring cleaning

for Earth's infiltration

by polluted prayers

of sabotage and death

from heinous minds

deceit slithering between 

prayer-hand fingers

feigning ignorance of its aim

flood this slum

let fairweather-friend tendencies

float to the surface

so the targeted 

can steer their vessels clear

of the eye 

of their enemy's storm

 

Thunder

be a buffer across 

the atmosphere's foundation

David Copperfield the scuff marks

of their unremorseful missteps

sand them so vanished 

that those who dared

break the laws of life

and the souls of mankind

may have two left feet

unable to revisit the path

or start anew

halting their calamitous journey

 

Lightning

be an electrical fence

warden the element

sizzle their defiled thoughts

shock them into compassion

let them lay down 

the weapons in their hearts

so they'll have no desire 

to brandish them in the flesh


Wind

like Jesus

take the wheel

spin it robustly

like this world's safety

relies on the strength of your grasp

the precision of your rotation 

typhoon their acrimony

out of reach

category-five separation

sweep this unholy sphere 

till it sparkles with love


Hail

pelt their fear of failure

so heavy it outweighs their courage

to nurture dreams deferred

intercepting purpose

and legacy

disfigure it 

so Elephant Man that they may

construct a new belief system

confidence 

retrofitted to withstand

all precipitation

 

Snow

freeze the hell in their spirits

require them 

to dig themselves free of it

do not supply them with shovels

let them use their hands

so they can experience 

the frigid bite

of their negativity 

severing their fingertips

let them then vow 

to soften their touch

refrain from squeezing the life

out of love they've been gifted

by those they mistreat


Sun

shine so brightly 

that they can no longer see

justification for their malice

let them warm up to each other

to the idea that

there is enough space 

for every kind in this world

that everyone who is here

belongs

let them fashion a society 

where understanding 

acceptance

and allyship

are normalized

illuminated at every turn 

let them detect their contribution 

to connections' decline

do their part to rectify

let beauty be unmistakable

everywhere


and let me always be

at the forefront 

of the transformation crusade

demonstrating

inspiring


Rainbow

lend us your colors

let our pristine invocations

be flung like crayon confetti

into the ravenous belly

of the freshly washed sky

in commitment to

and celebration of

the new world order


Listen to audio here:

CLIMATE CHANGE


©2024 Charlene E. Green

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

ARSON

Your temper 

blow-torch Fahrenheit  

smoldering among your cells

disintegrating your lungs

each exhale carcinogenic


Your breath smells like

unresolved generational trauma

a putrid fusion

of blame, excuses

and all the smoke

you stay ready 

to serve the world.


No one is safe 

including you.

 

One day 

the internal holocaust 

charring your core 

roasting your bodily fluids

and blackening your heart 

will be too rebellious

for you to survive.

 

Swear I keep smellin' fire 

and sure enough

every time I look around 

it's you

lit

cracklin' and poppin', 

rockets launching from your tongue

a run-for-cover spectacle

short-circuiting people's tolerance 

incinerating vital bonds

from your support system 

snuffing out your prosperity.


Hell hath no fury 

like you

scorned.


You're not the warm refuge folks seek

to escape life's blistering chill

you're the reason the block is hot

carbon-monoxide mobile

mortal spirit

clearing the path

with one searing gaze

no need to speak

we all know

you don't require words

to kill the peace.


And I would call the fire department

but judging by 

the grandeur of your rage

your flame is too trick candle

for their hoses

you're not thirsty for healing

you wanna burn bridges

every day you add more tinder

to the widespread toxins 

engulfing humanity.


It's clear that your violent flare 

is premeditated

which means

this 

is an inferno 

that can only be extinguished

by you. 



©2024 Charlene E. Green


 

Tuesday, September 12, 2023

APOSTROPHE

I am not a shortcut.

I am a whole word.

 

To experience me fully 

you need to sound me out 

every letter 

taste each syllable 

that composes 

the intricacies

of my story.


Chew slowly on 

the knowledge you receive 

remember it

savor it

the bitter and the sweet

balance them evenly 

amid your palate

too much of one or the other 

might leave a strange taste 

in your mouth.


If I tell you my secrets 

treat them like the personal shame

you intend to take to your grave

—guard them with your life—

do not let 

your mouth get wayward

my privileged info plunging 

from your irresponsible tongue.


Be extra careful with the skeletons.


If I trust you enough

to exhume them

from the closets 

I have buried them in

do not let the tiny bones

get lodged between your teeth

the sizeable ones

caught in your throat

I know my objectionable facts 

can be tough to swallow

hard to digest

try not to choke on your shock

do not be fooled 

by this good-girl smile

I have not been the saint 

these poems may 

have you to believe.


I can be a hurriquake

first and last name 

they frantically announce 

when cautioning the world 

of my impending doom.


If my mother were still here

she could tell you about 

the day she watched me

barbarically shudder her house

gut an emotional intruder 

on the phone

her eyes swamped with terror.


I wrote about it in detail

check my documents

I am just letting you know 

what to expect 

and simultaneously 

you never know 

what to expect 

from my verbiage vault.


When I said I was a whole word 

I also meant the truth.


See that?

 

Like a thesaurus 

if you search me

you will find infinite ways 

to define my complexities.

 

There are no contractions here.


You may not abbreviate 

the parts of me 

you find inconvenient.


You do not have permission 

to eliminate pieces 

of my original format.


Arrive prepared 

to consume me in my entirety.

 

I hope I have made myself clear.

 

Do not 

make me have to 

spell it out for you.


©2023 Charlene E. Green

Listen to the audio HERE

Wednesday, May 24, 2023

REVIEW OF LANELL GRANT'S SOLO ALBUM, I AIN'T GONE HOLD YOU

LaNell Grant asked for "dissertations" after we listened to her album. She didn't know I'm a master at those. See what I did there?

First, a little backstory:

I've been following Texas native producer and lyricist LaNell "Nell" Grant for about two years, though if you were to ask her, she might say I'm new to her world, because I just recently began interacting on her IG posts. But I was there way before that. When I first heard her rap, I was instantly drawn to her aura and flow. Something about the way she spun her words told me she was ahead of her time and that I should continue to pay attention to her artistry.

As a 53-year-old who was on the scene when hip hop started, I'll be honest and say that these days I don't really fool with what's out. Much of the greatness of the art form has been lost--dare I say trampled on--and I feel like I've been waiting for history to repeat itself for an eternity. There are only a couple of rappers who have my attention, for very specific reasons. Aside from them, no one has had my full attention this way in many years. To be clear, for an artist to have my full attention means I not only enjoy their content but also their whole vibe. I'm attracted to a certain energy, and although I may like some artists' songs, I may not care for them as people, based on the way I see them carry themselves in the media. My interest in an artist is built by way of a sort of study of them and their work. Because my life's work is words and stories, I take the art of wordplay very seriously. 

In addition to posting entertaining reels and clips of her family, several months ago Nell, who used to be an English teacher, began doing something called Nell Word of the Day, where she would take a lesser-used word from the Dictionary or Thesaurus, give us the meaning and part of speech, and then spit a short, powerful, educational, witty verse using the word, accompanied by music she produced. Not many people know this, but the Thesaurus is my favorite book. It's the best writing tool ever. I use it for all my work; it'll likely get used during this review. There are times when I want an alternate word for the most common of them, and I can't think of all of them fast enough. The Thesaurus saves me every time. That said, when Nell began this fun journey, it excited me. I was tuned in frequently before, but once this was on deck, I was locked in daily. I had never seen any other rapper or producer do anything like it. Her passion for words and their usage gave me hope for the future of hip hop. This is when I started commenting on posts. I had studied her enough. She was the real deal. Everyone loved what she was doing and the positive impact she was having on them, including me, and I let it be known in the comments how refreshing it was. 

Soon, Nell began talking about doing her first solo album, and my ears and eyes instantly perked up even more. Again, I've been watching her from the corner, so to speak, so I've heard her other singles, "Reflection" and "Call on Me," which were released last year, as well as watched her Women Produce video series and other shorts on YouTube. If she was serious about doing an album, then I knew I'd be serious about supporting it. She was and she did.

Fast forward to today, May 24, the official release date of I Ain't Gone Hold You, Nell's first solo album, which she wrote and produced. If you know anything about firsts in the artistry world, then you understand how important they are. To make a lasting impression that leaves people singing your praises, you can't just throw it together and hope for the best. You need a certain amount of confidence in your abilities and the quality of the work you intend to deliver. It's not that it's not scary or that you don't worry about how well it will be received, but you know you're ready to be received, come what may. LaNell Grant was definitely ready for this venture.

I Ain't Gone Hold You is first-rate, forward-thinking, captivating, and educational. It's also faith based, so it's clean and family friendly, not a curse word to be found. Even if you have a potty mouth and are accustomed to, enjoy, or prefer rap songs filled with obscenities and X-rated content, this album is superbly lyrically distracting, so you won't miss any of it. Nell is committed to her faith in God, and her life and verses showcase the beauty and depth of that vow. Her musical prowess, storytelling, flow, and use of language are superior. This woman is smart, intentional with her messages, and dedicated to making sure she gives the people what they need and want. And there's not a track on it that I feel compelled to skip.  

This isn't just a hip-hop album, which is why it took me four full listens to the album to figure out how to describe it. To me, it's an ode to faith, inner growth, and love. Nell does more than rap; she serves up a beautiful balance of what I call "street and sweet." The first half of the album is where she takes it to the street, unleashing crafty, flawlessly articulated and enunciated bars that prove why she belongs on the mic and has the right to call herself a rapper, all while slangin' arresting, layered beats in your ears that sound like she's been producing for decades, when in reality it's been less than 10 years. It's clear from the first track that she didn't come to play, even though she was obviously having the time of her life in the studio. Countless metaphors that stop you in your tracks and make you shake your head at how smoothly she dropped them and ran to the next one, while you're still marveling at what she just left you with. Subject matter that makes you think about whether you're living your best life (right up my alley!). Scenarios that make you reassess your faith, no matter what philosophy you subscribe to. 

Then, unexpectedly but definitely not regretfully, she swings way over to the other side of the pendulum and lays the sweet side of herself on you, revealing another surprise: she can sing! No, not like Mariah or Whitney, but she can do more than just hold a note. She has a pretty voice, and to go with it a heart bursting with love for her life, her kids, and her husband, which she spends part of the next half of the album celebrating. I heard Nell say in a live video some months back, regarding her love for her husband Cory, "I've always been ooey-gooey." This album reveals exactly what she meant by that. Her husband and kids all have cameos, and what I love about her "ooey-gooey" side is that even as she gets vulnerable about what and how much they mean to her, she still throws flaming bars. She may have switched gears emotionally, but she continues going full throttle energetically and skill wise.

I wish I could tell you what my favorite track is, but right now I can't. They're all too strong. I will say that the ones I find myself quoting the most are "God's Timing," "Second Wind," and "Everything." As I continue to digest each song, one will likely be the chosen fave. Some of my favorite lines from each track are as follows:

"Everything": 1. I could never count a manmade dollar as my Powerball. 2. If we delay our indulgence/then we can bake this in the oven/slow and steady, that's the pace/perfect the texture, that's the base/crust them edges, that's for taste/and save that juice, cuz it's our gravy.

"Answer by Fire": 1. Facts/it be in the acts/acts be in the actions/proof is in the pudding/trees bear they fruit then. 2. We was dancin' wit' the enemy/didn't understand his vice grip is a Tango/wit' a grip like Thanos/wit' a chip like Pringles/on our shoulders.

"Unequivocal": I pray compassion don't miss me and catch me wrong on a Tweet/I pray I handle my come-up with enough humility/I pray my flesh don't get stirred up and walk me to guillotines. 

"Second Wind": 1. Cuz it's a set-up/And I upset like a underdog wit' a bite that won't let up. 2. Whatchu rely on?/Whatchu cling to?/Whatchu trust in?/Whatchu lust in?/Tell me yo' type of glutton/Mine was myself. 3. Objects in the mirror are more sinister than they appear.

"God's Timing": 1. But that mind of poverty/it be a sham/it'll have you goin' hard for the clams/in the wrong direction/away from yo' fam. 2. Just know that everything's shiny/just know the beats still gon' be grimy/just know the heat crack like a lightnin'/only difference is I'm right in alignment with all of my assignments. 3. I'm a piece'uh art and a piece'uh work/you can buy the album when you buy the merch/straight from ya girl/you can skip the clerks.

"Don't Let'em Swamp Ya": 1. Pray you don't play cat and mouse with a fox/Don't let no lame tell you whatchu not/they sound like trickery dickery dock. 2. Any lil boy can make 'em/but not every grown man can stand up and raise 'em/you want a real one/one like yo' daddy/one like yo' pappy/when you nine months he'll still think you a baddy.  

"Collect Call": 1. I hit my knees/I had to weep/I had to groan/now I'm grown. 2. Nelly is regular-degular/I be in sweats without sweatin'/I only address it cuz I know some girl somewhere in depression/who she is on the inside is what's special/but she can't see past the pressure/of what she measure/in her bra line/in her thigh gap/how her teeth look/if her waist snatched/wit' that make-up/she git big claps.

"I Hope You Know": 1. You done cleansed yo' bride/boy you deserve a thesis/a dissertation/standin' ovation/worker's compensation/hundred mo' vacations/condos on the water/five-star reservations/anything with you cuz the time is never wasted.

"Don't Forget (feat. Tim Woods)": Dang these thoughts/man they be creepin'/and I be peepin' all these demons/yeah I see 'em/My God I repent/Lord please forgive me/they in the mirror/not over yonder but right up under/where I breathe/between my gums/on my tongue/Jesus Christ man/I can see/that it's me/I ain't gone lie/dang it's me.

"Reflection": 1. Performing/dangerous drug/performing a.k.a. I want love/and I wish I had that truth when I needed it/I wish I knew my worth and then exceeded it. 2. Hope I got more God than I show y'all up in my stories.

"I Ain't Gone Hold You": 1. Had beats on my hard drive/thought that I had made 'em wrong/turns out they was for me/I was takin' long/turns out I'm Chef Bar-O-G/put my apron on/tried to leave the kitchen prematurely but my cake was on. 2. If you needed a wake-up call/hope I was Folgers.

Whether you're a hip-hop aficionado, only partake sometimes, or not at all, I strongly advise you to support this project so you can hear what true hip hop sounds like in 2023, especially coming from a woman who also creates the beats. You can go ahead and speak LaNell Grant's name in the same sentences with MC Lyte, Queen Latifah, and Missy Elliot. Yeah. Gone ahead and do that.  

I Ain't Gone Hold You is available on Even.biz, where you can purchase and listen but not download. To sign up, all you need is an email address. It will hit all digital streaming platforms soon. Here's the link: https://www.even.biz/releases/i-aint-gone-hold-you

Grab it, enjoy it, learn from it. Happy listening!

Charlene E. Green

Author, Publishing Coach, Empowerment Poet, Life Coach

Hustle Diva Speaks Enterprises LLC

lnk.bio/hustlediva24

Thursday, December 15, 2022

INQUIRING MIND

*For Twitch and all the others.*


So you thought you could dance

Your way out of despair

Dj

Enough music

Into your ears

To drown out your heart's

Hard-core wailing

Pretty-smile enough sparkle

Into your eyes

So when we looked into them 

We wouldn't see

That the lights were out

In your soul?


I wanna know 

Who dropped the ball first

How many dropped it after

Left you feeling like

This game of life

Was too difficult to play

That your access pass

To happiness was defective

And you weren't worthy

Of one that worked


How many were dropped

To the point that by the time

Somebody picked one up

And came to support you

In winning the game

It no longer mattered

Because you felt like

You were too many points 

Behind to succeed?


How many I love yous

And I'm here for yous

Sounded good but

Weren't strong enough

To overpower the game-over buzzer

Blaring in your head

Telling you you'd lost

No overtime on deck

Time to get off the court

Outta the game

Outta people's way

Outta existence?


DID

Anyone actually drop the ball?

Was there really not enough

Love

Cheering

Checking-on

And tips offered

On how you could be a victor?


Or


Did you have the ball

The whole time but 

Didn't think there would ever 

Be enough air in it

To keep you bouncing back 

So you tossed it?


Did you block

And foul folks

Who tried to help

Because deep down

You didn't think you were

Destined for greatness

Didn't think your life

Was important enough 

To save?


I'm just asking because

When it was me long ago 

When I thought I

Wanted to die

More than once

I realized

I didn't


What I really wanted

Was to have a purpose

Big enough to live for

A thing that made me

Feel like I was needed here

A way to leave the world better

A thing no one could

Take from me

That gave me joy

A thing that belonged

Only to me


Because why be here

If I can't have

Impenetrable fulfillment

On some level

Solid ground to stand on

When everything

And everyone around me

Is falling away

Or apart?


And when I found it

I never again

Thought I wanted to die


In fact

It became the thing

I fought hardest

To live for


So I'm just wondering

What would've made you stay

What was the puzzle piece

Missing from your soul

What was the thing

That would've kept you

In the game

Given you

Impenetrable fulfillment 

Made you plant your feet

Firmly in this life

Given you the courage

The audacity

To battle all the

Evils and strife in this world

The thing that would've

Let you live in peace

Carry out a purpose

That made you dance

Dj

And eye-sparkle pretty-smile

Till the game-over buzzer

Blared

And you were good

Because your happiness points

Were in excess

And you knew

You had won? 


©2022 Charlene E. Green

Sunday, July 17, 2022

SUPPORT SYSTEM


I don't drink coffee

but I've been using your favorite mug lately

the one you used for your morning coffee

then several more servings throughout the day


I know it was your favorite

not just because I saw you using it

all the time

but because

I can see the permanent coffee-stain ring

just above the cup's halfway point--

you never filled it all the way

as if maybe you felt like you didn't deserve

a full one

like how you often felt about your life

the way you struggled to feel worthy

of the kind that would

leave you so satiated that there'd be

no room left in that cup

because the contents of your joy 

would aggressively bubble over

splashing on everything

and everyone in your midst

and you would never apologize

because you'd understand that

happiness is to be shared

it's supposed to flood

touch people

leave them inquiring about 

whatever it is you have

that makes your cup

runneth over like that

 

At the bottom

on the inside

I can see the mass of scrape marks

from where you clanked and stirred your spoon

and I question how much deep contemplation

and persistent worry

were driving each rotation of your wrist

how long you sat there

with your limb  

briskly spinning your java on autopilot

always no cream

barely a teaspoon of sugar

so I wonder if what you were really doing

was trying to dissolve

all your tears and fears


On the underside rim

lies the mileage evidence

where it's clear that this mug 

was your cherished companion

your ally during 

life's storms and celebrations

traveled with you to every corner

of 40 Terrace Drive

saw all the sights of your beautiful mind

this friendship between you two

was sacred

this vessel held your joe

and your dreams

firmly in its grasp

until the day you left it

in my care


I love the feel of the handle in my hand

sturdy and thick

like your love, reliability, and support

this mug has a density

my other mugs don't have--

I know because I pulled all of 'em

off the shelf

and did a thorough check--

they're not built like this one

they don't feel as dependable

which I guess makes sense

because in my whole life

I have never been able

to depend on anyone

more than you

 

Even though I don't drink coffee

I'll keep letting your mug

hold my favorite beverages

while we form our own bond

as we trek the dimensions 

of my home


I'll definitely make sure

to fill it to the very top each time

to remind myself

that I'm worthy of a life 

brimming with unapologetic joy


And I won't even flinch

if the contents spill over


Copyright 2022

Charlene E. Green











Friday, June 24, 2022

MORE

She say, "I know I can be a lot,"

apology in eyes

recoil in tone 

a momentary lapse

shrinkin' back into the shell

she labored her whole damn life

to bust out of

overtime hours nobody knew she put in

tryna get secure 

in her melanated skin

mournful sighs 

guttural moans

creak and pop of her bones

from the brazen pushback she gave

when they proclaimed she was forbidden

in spaces not built for her kind:

unapproved commentary 

all that black body

brain power and curves

generational wisdom and savvy

packed so overflow in her

it be spurttin' like a rebellious sprinkler system 

spontaneous and full blast

catch folks off guard

drench they tumbleweed minds

distress 'em so bad 

they grimace and flail

mash they foot on her spout

till she 

SHUT THE HELL UP...

but her force too grand

flow unstoppable 

so she always erupt 

before long


She say it

like she forgot she the classified

spice in this world's flavor

recipe ain't even complete 

till she pepper herself in it

her discretion

she control the measurement

they ain't about to deplete her

greedy spirit governin' they palates

clamorin' for heftier portions

but she understand 

it only take a dash

to balance the brew

so she keep her setting

on shake

not pour

cuz everyone knows

including her

they up Shit Creek

if she empty


Say it

like ain't nobody told her

processes be stalled

till she put hands on 'em

business all kinda unfinished

inexplicable confusion abound

till she bewitch her way

through a scene

like her ancestors 

were forced to do

for centuries

oh yeah

she got it honest

indigenous elixir in her blood 

only reason they can keep calm

and carry on


She say, "I know I can be a lot"

like she still ain't sure

she deserve

to be out that shell

roamin' free

command in her step 

like she belong 

fixture they cain't live without

like she ain't that hallowed safe

holdin' the all the fortune

like she ain't the one card

in the deck

everybody know 

they gotta be lucky enough

to pull

for the win

like she ain't that vital Jenga piece

they BET NOT move

from the foundation

or that bitch 

gon' come crashin' down

like cain't nobody see her value

like she don't believe

her "a lot" 

will NEVER be enough


They gon' always need

MORE


©2022 Charlene E. Green




Wednesday, June 15, 2022

THE REBIRTH

**Thankful to the people I spoke to after my show Saturday night, who inspired this poem.**

They tell me I'm
the new church on the block
built different from any other
my tongue
a rarefied bible
whose narratives be simultaneous
swing-pull-hug
knock ’em out the pew
with one blow
their self-loathing
a dune of hazardous waste
upon the floor
exposed
unable to deny
a frightful sight
then
embolden them
to dust off their dismay
stand up confidently and
turn to The Book of Empowerment
Chapter 7, Verse 24
which states:
Honor thy spirit
and thou shall glide through the storms of life
and reside among the peaceful and free
endowed with renewed faith
and mended esteem

They say my word
be a same-day funeral-Baptism-wedding
lay their broken lives to rest
dismembered souls strewn wildly
amid closed caskets
unfit for viewing
dip their feeble spirits
in the cool
refreshing proverb
of hope
deliver them from
the sin of self-harm
walk their rehabilitated beings
down the aisle
give them away
to begin a repaired life
with their healed self
to love and cherish
for better or worse
in sickness and health
forsaking all others'
negative perceptions
judgments
and commentary
for as long as they shall live

They whisper to me
in confession
their grievous yearning
for emotional stability
ask how to forgive themselves
for decades of self-induced mistreatment
bellow in anguish
ashamed of the mess they've made
of their psyche

Until I direct them
to The Book of You
Chapter 9, Verse 16
which states:
Thou canst do all things
through the courage residing within
forgiveness reigns when 
remorse of self-denigration is felt
changed behavior employed
and acceptance of imperfection pursued

Thou art in command
thou hast choice
choose self-love

They declare my sermons
be anointed
affirmations of worthiness
truth-bearing mirror on the wall
promising underneath
the inner decay and downfall
lives the fairest self of them all
ready for introduction
to the world

They rise from their seats
gather their properly adjusted crowns
self-respect
flood my collection plate
with appreciation and delight
and exit the sanctuary
turnt up
blessed with the spirit
of
I AM
capable
I AM
deserving
I AM
enough
I AM
LOVE

©2022
Charlene E. Green