This is the first time I have ever been a woman. It has to be. Because I despise being female. My life would be so much easier if I were born male. I often wonder what I did in my previous live(s) to have to endure this experience.

My brain is male. I prefer to wear men’s clothes and underwear. I accept my body and fate, because the Creator makes no mistakes, but I do not like my body as much as I should. I do not want or need my breasts. My penis envy isn’t as strong as it used to be. I guess I’ve gotten over the fact that I’ll never have one of my own…of my own skin, controlled by my thoughts and feelings. In fact I don’t even own any toys. I take pride in my lesbianism and personally have no need for anything other than a woman’s body and sensuality to get me off.

But I’ve learned to be accomadting. Why? Because I am a woman, and that’s what many of us do. Its expected and implied that we give in, or lay back…and take it…with a smile or tear.

For the record, I am not a stud, dom, ag, or whatever the term is this season. What you see is what you get. I am a masculine woman. For me that means, I am attracted to all kinds of women. It means I give, but I also receive. It means I do not wear makeup, own dresses, skirts, or thongs. But no matter what I choose to wear, estrogen is still in my body. And regardless what my male brain is telling me, my heart and soul will respond in femininity. And I fucking hate that shit.

What I really appreciate about (most) men is their ability to not feel as deeply as women. They have not only the audacity to not give a fuck, but in a way, they are given permission. Men get rejected by women every day and don’t flinch. Women hurt men, and men find solace in another with no remorse. Men have no problem not caring, or getting too attached. They don’t have to share their feelings, or apologize for their cocky and cold nature. This is what attracts women to them. It’s so uncanny.

You would think…when women date one another, they would treat each other like the special beings that they are. But often times, we too, are arrogant assholes, who take each other for granted, and have the ability to walk out the door and never return. And as a woman, experiencing that level of pain is the worst thing ever. But if I were a boy, some shit probably wouldn’t phase me in the least. I hope I learn my lesson so I never have to be a woman again. I look forward to my next lifetime. This one has truly been a ride…





I ain’t no fucking “cougar”. I refuse to accept any label, but I particularly despise that one.

Since I’ve lived in Atlanta, I cannot go anywhere without my identification. I could get away with that shit at home. Here? Nope. I know you’re supposed to take it wherever you go…but damn. To be asked for identification every single time you go into a store, or order a drink at a restaurant is a bit much.

I try to take it as a compliment. Especially when younger women flirt with me. I have come to the conclusion that I will more than likely date younger women as I continue on my journey. Most women my age have children and don’t want anymore. A lot of them don’t work out, or have a spontaneous spirit. Of course it would be nice to meet someone my age or within two to three years younger with the same goals, interests, and desires. I just haven’t met any lately.

It’s interesting dating women ten or more years younger than me. I’ve encountered some beautiful, old souls. But I’ve also noticed the difference in maturity, and priorities.I’m still getting used to being called “Bae” 😏. The babies text “talk” more than they like to have actually conversations or face to face communication. And a few have mistaken me for a “sugar mama”. Needless to say, as I play my part in this dating game, I’ll say it once, and I’ll say it again… I do not pay to give or receive time, head, or love. Furthermore, I ain’t not fucking cougar on the prowl looking for a pretty girl to stunt with. If anything, I’m looking for a boss. So whether you are my age, or young enough to be my daughter, have your shit at least semi together before engaging in any type of romantic relationship with me. You’ll save us both a great deal of time and sleepless nights.




I am poetry. I speak in poetry. I live poetry. I have been writing poetry since I was nine. And yes. I confess…I communicate through my work. However, most women I encounter can’t…or won’t take the time and/or show enough interest to read between the lines. Perhaps they are too scared to be a fan. I’ve been told I’m “intimidating”….

I saw this and it really, really, tickled the hell out of me:

My work has always been very personal. From the very beginning, in the late 90’s, my work was created in lust, love, pain, angst, and abandonment. And quite frankly, most of my readers respond to the work that is centered in pain, and coping with love lost. Furthermore, I have a very specific target market and reader.

With that said, most times I draw from my experiences with my “muses”. I have made a many pair of panties wet by giving personal poetry as gifts, or whispering a freestyle in one’s ear. And I’ve ruffled a many feather as well with my candor. I’ve been told I was mean…cold…an asshole…a bitch. Eventually I am usually left, shunned, ignored, blocked, and forgotten. 😔

I honstly wish I could see what they see; feel how they feel. I write to cope and inspire, not to hurt. I want people to read my work and understand they are not the only one going through something similar. My work is to encourage healthy, loving, open dialogue in relationships. And yes expose the harsh reality that we don’t always get what we want, and learning to be okay with that. I write about real life experiences because that’s my niche.

Unfortunatly, art isn’t pretty all the time. Besides, my art is meant to be felt. Whether in my written work, or photography, my goal is to reach you on the inside rather than simply catch your eye. So I’m just…creating. I’m just doing my part here in the world. My only goal is to make a living doing what I love to do. When I receive comments, likes, etc. for my work, I’ve succeeded.

I’ve said before…oh, they are “just poems”, but really…they are much more than that. Who knew they held so much strength. Every day I am inspired by everything that surrounds me. I can log on to any of my social media accounts, and see a tweet, or status update, and if it moves me, I will create something. If someone from my tribe is experiencing joy or pain, I may be inclined to use the scenario in a piece. So in essence…you never really know where I’m coming from…unless of course you ask, and that’s against the rules. However if i write about you specifically, you will always know prior to the world.

I have no interest or desire to ever defend my work…now or in the future. 

What I choose to share with the universe is between me and the Creator. I was given gifts, and I simply share them. If it makes someone feel a certain way, that was the very intention. Is every word written meant to be taken as my truth… Not in the least. After all…they are just… Poems. 😏






So I was hanging out with a group of women I met recently, and being the “newbie” to their circle, every one of them had their questions:

What do you do?
How old are you?
Where are you from?
What do you like to do?
How long have you been in Atlanta?
You like it here?
What part of town do you live on?
So, why are you single?
What kind women do you like?

Women 😏

I have dated all kinds of women.

Tall. Short. Thick. Thin. Fem. Soft. Stud. Dom. FTM. Light. Dark. Older. Younger. Some where smarter than others. Some more fun. Some more sane. Some with more money. Some who actually wanted and loved me.

I care and still have love for anyone I’ve shared my mind, body, and soul with. I honestly have no ill feelings towards any of them. With time, you grow. You learn more about yourself, and you realize who you are and what you truly need, want, and ultimately, deserve.

No one could have ever told me that I would be single and celibate in my 40’s. Like really? What the entire fuck?

When the universe decides it’s time for me to connect with someone, I accept the invitation. I am open. I share. I reserve my judgements because I hate when someone judges me. If there is a connection, and chemistry, I explore it wholeheartedly. I try not to rush into intimacy, because I have never been one to separate sex and love. In addition, if I am not stimulated mentally first, I won’t be able to respond physically.

So while I sat and listened to these beautiful women go on and on about dating here in Atlanta, Dej Loaf, local celesbians, and Sandra Bland, I smiled. It’s nice to know I am not alone out here.  No shade.

Many of us are still searching for “The One”. Young or older, we all have the same desire to love and be loved. I think a lot of times we focus on a particular type of individual we are seeking. I know I did in my youth. For instance, I am very attracted to the petite, brown skin women who wear their hair natural. And I am also attracted to Black women who are mixed and have beautiful hair. I know. Cliche. But again… I don’t particularly have a “type” per se.

I learned early in life that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’ve never been one to date someone solely on how they looked. It’s more about energy for me, and one’s confidence. And though I am very attracted to beautiful, aggressive, secure, intellectual, artsy, music lovers, I allow myself to experience whomever my heart…and body chooses. I do not like to limit myself. I like who I like, and love who I love. Thus, I have several soulmates. I do not believe you have one, and I do not believe that you are always intimate with or marry your soulmate. There are several women in my life that will be there forever. We don’t have to speak for days or years. Some of them were lovers, and some of them are just the best friends one could ever wish for.

The woman I marry will be more than just my soulmate. She will be my life partner. She will be…like she is now…the reason I exist. I don’t even know who she is yet, but she will have access to my entire life. She will know that she is my first and only priority. And she’ll understand clearly where I’m coming from…

“Girl tell me, who did you love that I gotta shake hands with?” – PartyNextDoor



“You can DO anything you want to do. You can BE anything you want to be.” Billie’s Mama

I wish I had believed those words when I was younger…like really, really believed that. I didn’t take heed at all. I didn’t understand the power in those words until this very moment. In my youth, I was surrounded by around everything and everyone I needed to be the person I wish I was today. Yet, I feel have not accomplished…enough. I feel so unfulfilled as an artist, because I know I should have created and shared more of my work. I know it’s never too late. But, I’ve been affected by this “thing” all my life.

I wanted to be a singer, and dancer, and wanted to be Janet Jackson. I couldn’t be Janet, but I could have tried. I know I can sing, and write the fuck out of a song. I just…don’t.

The “thing” first visited me when I was 8 years old. My third grade teacher asked us what we wanted to be. I said a singer or a police officer. She frowned and said, “Ugh Not a singer! ” She said the shit with such disgust, I couldn’t breathe. I swear it was the vey first crack to my heart. As she said the words… “Yeah you’ll be a good police officer…,” it was if she was saying the shit in slow motion. And when I try…to really sing…I see that evil woman’s face, and I wither like I’m 8 again…

Ten years later, I wanted to be an international hip-hop artist. I was a local artist for a half a milli-second. But I’m proud to say I shared the same space with dudes who are now legends. At the BRE in 1992, I met an icon before he was an icon. I walked right up to him at dinner one evening, handed him my card, and told him I was the next MC Lyte. He smiled… My card said “This MONIE is Juicy in the Middle”. He smiled. He handed me his card and told me to meet him at his room around midnight to spit for him. I was there promptly, and as I begin to knock on the door, I heard a group of men cutting the fuck up. I was 19. I was alone in New Orleans, with rappers and R&B singers…and I’m a fucking lady. But that was just an excuse. I was more scared to spit, than I was of getting “gang-raped” by a bunch of “business men.” Needless to say, I did not audition for said icon. Nor did I ever reach out to him… I didn’t have the courage to. The memory of it all has taunted me daily ever since…

Lori A. Leyden, PhD writes:
Our life experiences begin right in the womb. Studies tell us that as early as six months in the womb we are conscious and able to learn. At this stage we respond to the environment inside our mother’s body including what she eats and drinks, her activity level, even her emotional state. We can even learn to respond to our external environment including reacting to our father’s voice, certain kinds of music, heat and cold. All of these factors have an impact on us. Some even suggest that the birth experience itself may be a source of emotional trauma for us.

,,, Thus, I’m convinced I am a product of my environment…and that’s another blog post…

However…I will say this…

There is a cloud of “fear” that will not leave my life. It’s annoying. I run from it, and find a nice clear space, full of clouds and sunshine…and here it comes again. I hate it. I loathe it. I want to kill it with my bare hands. I know for a fact that I should be doing way more than what I’m doing…but the cloud lurks…silently stalking my every move, waiting for the perfect moment to steal my confidence, with a mighty blow to my ego.

It’s hindered me from so much…continuing my education, becoming a musician, an entertainer; becoming an actress, becoming a film director, a NY best-selliner, writer. All these things I know I could have been…should have become, but I haven’t yet. I remember Alice Walker winning the Pulitzer Prize and it was something I told myself I had to either get one too, or something better. But I’ve allowed my fear preoccupy me with women, and bullshit, never fully focusing on what was most important. My purpose

I’m at a point in my life where I am ready to start a full fledge war with my fear. I am prepared to face it…and destroy it once and for all. I know it will do it’s best to stop my progress, but I am so grateful for my blessings… I cannot self-destruct or self-sabotage any longer. I’ve held back so much, I feel as if I’m about to explode. So everyday, I repeat the words my mama told me many years ago…

“You can DO anything you want to do. You can BE anything you want to be.”

Cause she’s right. She’s absolutely fucking right!

And everyone doesn’t have that luxury…





Sometimes we make decisions without analyzing ALL the pros and cons.
I was chatting with a friend the other day about our life challenges, and we both agree that any and every thing that happens, happens for a reason. And though we know that for a fact, we still long to know the ending to our story.

When looking at the “Bigger Picture” we must accept the fact that our story is already written. Any move we make, no matter how calculated, cannot seal our fate. None of us can know what is “right” for us, because we are not in control. I believe our sole responsibility is to simply find our purpose and fulfill our destiny.

Of course…most of us want someone to walk our journey with us. Some of us will be blessed with the beauty of an everlasting love, and some of us will die alone, with a broken heart. But I believe if you complete your life’s mission, that is the greatest love of all.

See… that’s why it’s important to LIKE and love YOU. Because no one, and no love is promised to you. No ring, tattoo, or wedding vow is guaranteed to keep you connected to another. If it’s not meant to be, it won’t be.

For over 30 years, I have tried to “brace” myself for any pain headed my way. And needless to say, I have never been successful. Over the years I’ve learned to accept my trials and tribulations with tears and a smile. I am so in tuned with myself, I know that when there is pain, joy will soon follow. So whenever life attempts to give me the blues, I just remember the bigger picture and not the current snapshot. I’m much more than any pain that attempts to choke me out…and strong enough to kill it with a smile.





It’s been a rough week. And I’m pissed at myself for even allowing the small things to trigger my emotions. As I travel on this journey of mine, each day I find myself, reminding myself that I have a PURPOSE…

I am so grateful to have my job. But…

I’m an artist…

And fuck…I’ve got so much work to do…

This has happened to me since I was 25. I’m either unemployed for months and creating my gifts and contributions to the community and universe. OR I’m working in a cubicle, making good money, while looking over my shoulder while I use the copier for personal use. Not to mention the improper use of the internet. It’s a love-hate situation. Cause the entire time I’m working I’m thinking…I should be here shooting this…and I need to schedule some writing time. I’m supposed to do MORE..and I know this, but I’m constantly interrupted by the hinderance of my finances…hence the full-time, business casual, corporate artist I am today.

My week started with an urgent email from human resources stating that the US DEPT. OF EDUCATION was garnishing my wages for my student loans. I shit a brick. The IRS took my taxes last year now these asswipes wanna leave me pennies to live on. I’m not blaming them, just pissed at the inopportune timing.

Piss on Georgia for being a garnishment state…


I’m older now… (smile) I know that this too shall pass. I know what I need to do…so I can ultimately do what I want to do…and what I was born to do. I know that the harder I work, and the more I invest in me and my art, I will prevail. Tomorrow is Friday, and me and the CutiePie have are spending the Saturday together at some art events happening in the city.. So even though it’s been a rough one, I’m still smiling and counting my blessings.

Besides…it’s Thursday…and Scandal season premier comes on tonight…