The debt we owe


We must respond to the drums,
we as Black men must cry,
we must break from lies chains us
To the rolls
that takes their tolls.
We must close our eyes
And listen to the inner cries
Let the tears roll
down so we can grow
We own no woman
The community owns us
We must be accountable
To our foundation
Listen to the case I’m making
We could
Be that life saving generation
Cry together
Hear each other
Love should
Be our motivation
The love our sisters and children
Our salvation
Lies within healing us and them


I’m so glad I was at the
La Mujeres De Bomba
International Women’s Celebration to honor

The number of Black women that are abused and hurt are staggering, the number of those Black women that don’t get help because they are Black is more heart breaking.

Fading Days
My joints use to carry me miles
now the miles are a nightmare
my joints use to be silent
now they are louder than hiccups
pain comes quicker with exercise
linger and slow to go
I see a gray peeking out
from the middle of my chin
is it sign of a loss
or a sign of a win
my scars have fainted
my stories half remembered
I'm still scared of tomorrow
and the possibility it may never come
my hips feel like their slipping
and I'm tripping for no reason
I may sound ungrateful
but i didn't think I'd make it this far
I might not be a celebrity
but if you knew my story
I'm ending this a star
the pain
the abuse
adoption and foster care
thoughts of suicide
temptation of murder
I realized I just wanted the pain to end
and my enemies to feel the pain they inflicted
through it all the birds chirping became less annoying
and the rain more tolerable
because the sweet tweets
signal the rise of color
and 3 seasons of aroma therapy
I'm slow to get up
rocking to the side of the bed
forcing myself to be perpendicular
to the bed
realizing that yesterdays pain i couldn't shed
But i will carry it well
until I learn to release
until my eyes fail me
and my ears can no longer hear
I will hang on in style
and continue to walk these last miles.
(c) Maurice Taylor
3.7.24

Hanging by a high

Amongst trees
And bottles
Puff puff past
And swallow


Drowning my sorrows
Crawling into tomorrow
Itching away from the pain
Crawling into a mask

Looking into a mirror
unrecognizable
To myself
Morphing into a different beast

To tolerate the trauma
The screams that echos
With in the chambers of my brain
Another puff another swig

Lost in society
When I just want to get back home
To the arms of a stranger
Called Mom

(C) Maurice “Soulfighter” Taylor
2-13.24

Black History month is about explosing truth.

Here is an exposing.
Eminem’s old tape tapes calling us Monkeys and N-words.

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/nZM1bDYEKpCjBEHS/?mibextid=xCPwDs

Rest in peace Carl Weathers