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Nhojj Poetry Vol. 1

by Nhojj

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At this very moment… 45 years ago, I entered this world. Tiny feet kicking, little hands reaching for comfort of a mother’s womb, no longer present. A new sensation, cold and sharp like a doctor’s slap awakes me to… life. I’ve crossed the river flowing between the spirit world and this one. Hours of wading through deep waters leave me on these banks gasping… So easy to get lost in the tides and currents pulling me back to the other side. But I’ve made it, once again to this shore called life… Rubber gloved hands attached to faces hidden behind blue masks pull me into this maddening world. Bodies whizz around me… washing, wiping and wrapping… the deafening noises of voices, the answer to a world no longer muffled, call back and forth. Harsh, fluorescent delivery room bulbs glare at me and I cry and cry… nostrils widening with smells sterile and strange… Oh but the relief of air… the promise of mother’s arms encircling me… her eyes smiling down and the wind, for the first time, caressing my naked, brown skin… I cross another river today, 45 years later. It is not the first time, and I imagine it won’t be the last time that river waters will meet my feet. But like that first crossing, so many moons ago, it is easy to get lost in the pull and tug of rivers flowing between dreaming dreams and living reality, so easy for life’s currents to pull me back to the right side I just left. So easy to go in one big circle and like deja vu, end up at the point where I started. And when success does arrive, carrying me with strong, steady strokes to the coast on the other side of river’s edge, I must still confront the slap, the harsh reality, the faces hidden behind masks, regardless of… no matter what the color of the mask they wear like skin. But cross rivers I do… because in spite of it all… flesh tired and spirit weak… beyond the kerfuffle of change, with newness attacking senses I didn’t know I possessed, and pressure building, pushing into lungs never before used… beyond all this struggle… stands the relief of air… with open arms. Each new birth brings new air, glorious new air to breathe and spread invisible wings in and fly. Fly with new families and friends, arms encircling… while neighbors and even strangers rejoice, washed in tears, towels extended… all wiping and wrapping… even as I cry and cry… Fly even now as I realize the souls hidden behind masks pull me into new worlds, where I, under the Eye of Horus will live and breathe and have my being. Safe in the arms of a Goddess. Each day I cross the river Nile flowing long between dreaming and waking… and each day dream morphs into reality, as eyelids flutter open. Each night I cross the river Congo flowing deep between conscious and unconscious minds, as reality slips into dream and I commune with the stars. Awaking… I remember I have indeed been here before, life is a circle… but each time I arrive at this point of beginning, I arrive with new awareness… new kindness… and a new appreciation for love.
The pendulum on my desk swings back and forth From left to right A constant reminder of the cycles of life Like day and night But when wrong is masked as right Another’s rights under fire… newswire dire I’ll join the choir that sings and shouts A sea of humanity washing over walls built to conquer and divide Hate step aside Black and white tied together… forever Like Muslim, Jew and Christian together… forever Blessed be the ties that bind thee Abide with me Abide the three, four, five, six, seven billion together Stand Side by side Forever with hearts unified and… Together Turn darkness into light Turn the dimmer to bright Help the blind walk right Love heals Love gives sight Love wins before the fight has even begun But… I don’t have a desk from which a pendulum swings Back and forth from south to north All I have is a window Facing east… with a bright view of the future Peace be unto you And upon you peace Asalaam Alaikum Brothers and Sisters.
Definition – a weed is a wild plant growing where it is not wanted, in competition with cultivated plants. Some may call us weed Dispensing new toxins to suffocate us. Yet still… We are here Others may call us weed Devising new methods to eradicate us. Yet still… We grow Some may point at us and exclaim “weed” Simply refusing to see us Our possibility, our dignity, our beauty. Yet still… We flourish They may hire men (and women) to pull us out Cursing under their breaths at our presence So near well manicured lawns. Yet still… We thrive, overcoming each new attempt against our well being. See like weeds we find nourishment where none is supposed to exist. Like weeds, we are resilient because we grew up in environments where nothing was supposed to grow. In fact I’ve even seen weeds break through and crack layers of concrete in search of the sun. So it’s ok if some call us weeds. When it’s all said and done, when the structures erected are abandoned and forgotten, left to disintegrate. What do you think you’ll find growing wild and free? Weeds
We March On 01:24
The sun burns down from the sky Creating dark shadows around us We march on… The neighbors stop and stare Recognition forming on their faces We march on… The cars honk and drivers curse Gripping stirring wheels in the heat of frustration We march on… Mothers and fathers step back Closing doors that once stood open We march on… The bullies come with fists Ready to fight We march on… The police swarm en force Lights flashing and sirens wailing We march on… Our feet tire Hearts growing weary… with each step deeper into the abyss We march on… Minutes became hours Hours morph into days Days turn into months Months trudge into years We march on… What else to do but march on Inching closer and closer to the promised land This land of peace and equality that resides in our mind’s eye Now the seams of reality begin to fray like an old rag We have come to the brink of eternity The world has become flat again What do we do? We march on… We march on… We march on…
She didn’t notice him at first, but then he turned, and the light bounced off his being, getting stuck in her vision like a spec of dust. Her eyes narrowed, recognizing something familiar… something distasteful. Of course this wasn’t the first time. There had been many before her, mostly boys in men’s clothing, with that look of recognition in their eyes, trying desperately to squeeze that something out of him. They had used every trick in their books, teaching lessons they’d been taught about what was right and who was wrong. This time it only took him 3 years… 3 years to feel his fingers and toes again… 3 years below ground to feel his heart beating… wildly at first, then more evenly, with each new breath. 3 years for him to remember his light always recognized, would not always be cherished. So now, everyday as sun rises, bending light and shadow round table and chair, he writes in his journal, reads books from his shelf, and recites the words “cherish yourself.”
I knocked… You opened… Welcoming I hesitated… You waited… Understanding I stepped in… You smiled… Knowing We would never be the same I listened… You spoke… Honestly I watched… You hugged… Openly I relaxed… You Accepted… Caring We would never be the same I opened… You nodded… Approving I smiled… You laughed… Appreciating I shared… You shared… Acknowledging We would never be the same What else to do but sing? A sigh… sweet and soft. A memory of home where we were born. A star beyond this realm. We visit this planet from time to time and sometimes forget. Then moments like these flick a switch… and like grandma’s pinch… We remember… and the tears flow… Now Spirit merges with Divinity and we soar beyond the shadows that overwhelm us here on earth. In our little utopia surrounded by nature and men who hold hands and kiss and shower each other with genuine love, dignity and Affirmation. Our histories weave into one pattern. One robe we wear as we walk out onto the grass… Walk out into the sunlight proudly my Brothers. Your robe is fit for a King because you are a King. A King from the tribe of Adodi… the tribe of men who Love men who Love men who Love men who Love men who Love men who Love men… Love is eternal Ashé
“Come with me” he said, and me wanting always some adventure, some new kind of experience, reached for his outstretched hand and followed him into the grove. I’d never come this far before. There’d never been any reason to, but walking down this trail with him by my side seemed natural, organic, almost like it was destined. He wasn’t much older than I, but he moved with an easy freedom I found myself reflecting. His movements were fluid and strangely intoxicating. I kept trying to wrap my mind around his footsteps, but the understanding seemed to evade me. At times I thought I was dreaming, time would speed up then slow down… and there was that curious taste of brown sugar on my tongue. We moved down the narrowing path, past the pond, under a bridge, through the patch of trees, round a corner, then another and finally entered a small clearing. Jutting out in the middle was a large chunk of bedrock. He let my hand go and we made ourselves at home, settling into the rhythm of nature. We spoke no words, and in the meditation of our silence, he leaned over and started doodling in the dirt with his fingers. Light and shadows danced around his body. Bent over like this, I felt I was seeing him for the first time. He started to hum some strange otherworldly melody, encouraged by crickets and frogs. Some sound must have also escaped my lips because he stopped, and turned to look up at me. Our eyes met. It seemed in that moment, surrounded by foliage and moss and moonlight, we were facing each other naked and beautiful as the day we were born. No walls, no pretense, no distinction. What the birds and the bees would have witnessed, had they been interested, were two teenagers sitting on earth stone, deeply connected while all around them flowers blossomed.
PART I I repeat your name like a sacred mantra An invocation to the Soul Incense burns my senses Candlelights the circle way An alter to the Word A pathway to the Gods Slowly I feel your essence unfolding I taste the sweetness, hear the rain Chakras open from root to head Light flows through me, attracting, pulling, manifesting L-O-V-E PART II Silent Mesmerizing His palms arched together in prayer Naked power inked in muscle Like tattoos breathing Divinity in human form Beautiful My vision shifts The spirit realm reveals Wading through histories of ancient shadows Serenity Appreciation The ability to love and be loved… not in some future imaginary date But right here and… Now
I feel like so many of us crawl under the bridge where it’s cold and damp, not to mention crowded. Easy to squabble, fight and feel divided. Brothers and sisters aren’t your muscles tired from crouching in too small spaces for too long… breathing in mold and God knows what? Why don’t you venture out… see the riverbank… dip your toes in healing waters. Better still, we could unite arms, and march heart in hand over the bridge… our footsteps connecting opposite banks… our faces beaming with love.
I carry a box of hope in my pocket Next to my wallet and keys Now my fingers can touch hope while walking to the grocery Riding the bus, and Even now As we sit at this intersection Knowing the traffic light will turn from red to green.
He Heals Me 02:30
His skin feels warm against mine. Intertwined like this, our limbs look like roots of a sacred tree. Sade croons in the background, and I can see his torso rise and fall almost in sync with the fluid rhythm… in and out and in. He sleeps peacefully. How long has it been? Three months… four? I wasn’t looking for him. One summer afternoon he literally bumped into me. Smiling, he apologized, and without even knowing why, I smiled too. Later, in that little vegan place I liked so much, he shared a story about his grandmother and signs… I studied his lips as he strolled down memory lane, musing about life and strange metaphysical ideas. Mesmerized… I followed him into fields of dreams, stepping carefully through shadows of past heartaches, until we found ourselves slow dancing in lands of secrets. A penny for your thoughts… Of course this happened over many afternoons… lazy afternoons filled with old records, iced tea and good times by the beach. We’d listen to the sound of the ocean, healing waters flow. Then he’d head off to play basketball, or work on his sketches. I’d watch him walk away and think, “maybe… just maybe.” Then one day he turned around… His skin feels warm against mine. Intertwined like this, our limbs look like roots of a sacred tree. The tree of life…
It was a memory of myself Walking a long way home To be with the sea Something about the vastness, serenity and bodies... Records playing... Songs of drowning souls Floating now on tides far beyond Gifted my young mind A haunting peace The ocean taketh and the ocean giveth Wisdom Beauty and danger Kiss behind the rocks... While waves whisper to me This is nature This is life here on Mother Earth
Dust removed reveals Beauty below Years, months, days of neglect Yet still amazing Just like… Day of birth When all was new and fresh and only Happiness danced naked in our living room Open the windows and Let the dance begin again
Universal law Universal attraction Not a substitute But a prerequisite to best action It’s the dream That sleeps wide awake At the root of the solution The thought in the seed That blossoms into the tree of life Budding flowers and leaves of manifestation The reality of the situation? The current distraction First the thing moves from unseen to seen… Through the third eye of imagination Causing alchemical chain reactions and mystical bond formations…. Laying firm foundations on invisible planes Moving trains of thought higher… Only pausing to pick up positive vibrations… Shaking doors open that once stood closed Divine hands turning, conducting and orchestrating… Synchronistic encounters, introductions, and revelations… Gratitude adds traction Belief spins the wheel that turns in your favor Never waver Keep your eyes on the prize A word to the wise? Focus on your goals Answer your soul’s Calling… and always get up after falling Know that economies built on creation Create happiness, and isn’t that what we’re really searching for? Seek and ye shall find they say So I’ll look in and find my way to… Acceptance It’s time to see what we seek Right here in front of us Waiting for us to see To recognize To remember that Expectation turns the key… in the ignition that… starts the engine that… drives us all safely… home Home sweet home So there I’ve said it in many ways This took many days Months and years for me to understand So now here I stand To speak the truth Speak the truth Speak the truth The law is a celebration of our life force The power of our attention Which at its core can be boiled down In the science of my mind Using the heat and fire of experience To one simple word… Love
Fences 02:38
He thought the American dream and a woman could build a fence around his soul, putting distance between him and his pain, life’s constant barrage of woes, and the dreams that had fallen like garbage out of the sky… dreams that now lay broken and rotting at his feet. But neither time nor his wife could work that magic. That alchemy was his and his alone. But society forgot to teach him that lesson… or maybe society never read that book. So the personal demons he never accepted or made peace with, sat in the dark growing arms… arms long enough to travel through the space between this world and the next, legs tall enough to climb over that white picket fence he finally erected around his ever shrinking household, and hands so strong they could chock life’s bitter darkness right out of him. I don’t know if any of this is true of course… I’m just someone who writes his poetry on a kind of smart phone… but I have an inkling that our protagonist only really started to breathe after he’d danced and tumbled with the grim reaper. So hopefully… before this film ends, with rays of sunlight sparkling like gold through leaves of trees, we can remember the feeling of freedom and the liberation of forgiveness, and where we stand, sit or lie, grasp with our entire being, transforming heart and mind, this chance to breathe… breath after all is life.
He smiled and opened the door, inviting me into his life. I’d just met him in some dark place, but he’d smelled of open fields and meadows of freedom, where cool breezes and acceptance lingered. I ran free in his gaze. The dreamy intoxication of his eyes felt good, following me about like he did… and he was nice to look at… very nice indeed. Now we sat talking under muffled stars, the city lights blinking code signals around us. Big yellow taxis whizzed by, transporting the cooler than cool Lower East Side crowd to noisy downtown bars and clubs. But as the night loitered around us, I found myself becoming disoriented… it seemed the scene was changing, and now I was in a movie theatre taking off those ill-fitting plastic 3D glasses. His voice was clear, but the picture of him was becoming blurry. Had I imagined the whole thing… imposing my own fantasies onto this man? I was pretty young, but… A thought buzzed on the periphery of my consciousness, like a fly. His smile had opened a door, but his life, like all lives had rooms… with walls, and other doors that were closed and locked at the end of hallways, guarded by blank expressions that uttered short, vague answers. Answers that further confused and confounded the young, inexperienced me. This wasn’t clarity, these weren’t cool breezes of freedom and acceptance blowing here, at least not in any way I could understand. And so commenced my search for the exit. Now looking back after all these years, I realize I’d been searching for acceptance in those brown eyes, I wanted this man desperately to tell me I was fine and whole. But as beautiful as his brown eyes were, my beauty did not reside there. As orgasmic as it probably would have been to lay wrapped in his arms, that is not where any lasting love would be made. The bliss I was longing for did not lay sprawled naked on sheets of Egyptian cotton, but rather in the present chamber of my mind. I could step into that room anytime through the door of attention and enter into now. My own presence would set the night to sweet sounds, like honey to my tongue, and afterwards I could gaze out through the windows of my soul, blinds lifted and shades removed, allowing the light of the moon to flow in, weaving unimaginable blessings like magic around my spirit. Anyone with eyes would be able to see the silver glow emanating from my soul. So yes I returned home alone, but not lonely. I fumbled around in my pockets, and found the keys to my own acceptance, and quietly opened the door to a new day.
HELP 01:24
I am trans…. I am 13… I am gay… I am 16… I am lesbian… I am 14… I am queer… I am… on the streets I came out last week, last month yesterday… My mom cried My dad replied, yelling Get out! I came out here Street life is hard You know my friend Becky She killed herself last night, and Olivia was stabbed last week. Sometimes, when I am lucky, I crash on a friend’s couch, for a night or two. But friends… real friends are hard to find. Will you HELP Our mouths may never utter this cry But the question lies unspoken in our eyes…
He was born into a world of forms and structures. Forms and structures that offered safety and security. But that safety and security would later stifle and suffocate… as he grew bigger and began to hear the erotic beat of his heart calling his body out into the heat of the sun… where all the men danced… naked
Do not run from your strangeness little one Embrace it in all its peculiar beauty Embrace it in all its unique oddness Embrace it in all its horrific sacredness Embrace it… And if the sun shuns you Choosing not to shine… The moon will light your way Embrace it… And if the moon deserts you Choosing to look the other way… Your stars will align and find you Embrace it And if your stars scatter Choosing to hide behind clouds… The GODS themselves will bless you and lift you up Do not run from your strangeness little one Embrace it in all its peculiar beauty Embrace it in all its unique oddness Embrace it in all its horrific sacredness
Thank you 4 a new stage on which to share musical gifts 2 Lift voice & sing fingers caressing guitar strings 2 Feel heaven & earth ring 2 Make music like we make love like a prayer like a sunrise on sands expanding the shores of our time May we allow the healing power of music to rage through us like fire burning away fear... So all that remains is sound... beautiful glorious sound... Sweet & honest & good. Daryl Sledge Thank you 4 Seeing and recognizing possibilities Rhymes Over Beats for collaborating & The Cutting Room for being a sanctuary of performance. Thank you all who have came before & All who will come again 2 Break bread together In the name of live music. And finally, May we realize the lyrics of the l8 great Robert Nesta Marley “Let's get together and feel all right…”
And dis chile stroll up into de poetry reading and started throwing down poems on de table like it was a gambling card game... Bam! Poem number 1 Bam! Poem number 2 Bam! Bam! Poem number 3 If we didn't run out a time, he'd a still been dey throwing down de poems on de table But ah had to say dough Yuh was speaking de truth I get my everlasting life... Eh-eh And giving us face too... you know dat call me Ms. Ross remix with Ms Jackson if you nasty… Eh-eh I was gagging... no dis child ain’ come up here and talk ‘bout he slayin’… but yuh know ah had to give yuh yuh props eh… because as de children does say… Is 10s across de board Yes Lawd! I don' know if tuh love you or tuh LOVE you right now... I t’ink I guh love you TRANSLATION KEY ah - I chile - person or one dat - that de - the dey - there dis - this dough - though eh-eh - yes indeed guh - going to tuh - to t’ink - think yuh - you or your
Remove the coma It is not right that it be there It makes the sentence square... It lacks It distracts Fling it away Toss it thus Dash it on the rocks and let it end its days in my virtual trash box... Do it now in the name of all things holy and write A supplication to the saints of perfection A sacrifice to gods of edits So they may bless us with more chances… To mix words in a salad for lunch Hmmm dat not sounding right nuh…. I ain’ t’ink dat is de right metaphor… Remove the metaphor It is not right that it be there It makes the poem wrong... It lacks It distracts Fling it away Toss it thus Dash it on the rocks and let it end its days in my virtual trash box... TRANSLATION KEY dat - that de - the nuh - no t’ink - think
I breathe in... I breathe out.... once... twice. I feel the muscles in my shoulders relax. A calm begins to surround me like a favorite song. I'm meditating again. I've started and stopped many times. I would read a book and dive in, inspired by the staggering list of health benefits, not to mention spiritual and creative bonuses. It seems meditation re-wires our brains and rejuvenates our bodies. But even with all the bliss promised by gurus, after about a week of trying to quiet my mind, frustration rather than peace would engulf me, prompting me to wonder if meditation was right for me. Sometimes, and this is embarrassing to admit, my mind would wander so far, I'd forget I was even meditating, get up and do some activity that had popped into my mind. Thankfully now I'm discovering meditation is more about self acceptance and compassion, than clearing one's mind of thoughts. Instead of giving up or berating myself over my inability to quiet my mind, meditation is an opportunity to try again. In practice, when I realize my mind has wandered, gone off for a walk along mental trails, thoughts meandering and tumbling over each other like pebbles by the roadside... add quinoa to grocery list or remember in high school we used to... when I realize my mind has strayed... I gently return my attention to my breath. I breathe in... I breathe out... And if my mind should run off again, foreseeing possibilities for the day or looking back at failures or even if I just start daydreaming about whatever... when I realize my mind has strayed... I gently return my attention to my breath. I breathe in... I breathe out... And if my mind should feel frisky, jumping cartwheels in the street, chattering about this and that or even if... when I realize my mind has strayed... I gently turn my attention to my breath... I breathe in... I breathe out.... It's been a few months now, and I don't know if it's my imagination, but it seems like I have a bit more time and energy to do the things I've always wanted to do... those activities that bring me joy and peace. And little convenient coincidences seem to be occurring rather more frequently, almost like little divine helping hands guiding me along this path. Best of all, when I find myself in less than desirable situations, I notice my attention naturally turning to my breath... I breathe in... I breathe out... once... twice. I feel the muscles in my shoulders relax... and a calm begins to surround me like a favorite song.
He was angry, and they were angry, and one would have thought that would have been enough to place them on the same page... on the same side of the stage, but it didn't, and they weren't. Once he had been their outspoken hip hop hero, standing ever present in their rooms like mirrors they glanced into... admiring themselves. He’d even spoken out, blatantly attacking injustice at the highest levels. But now, a few short years later, they only viewed him with suspicion and mistrust. Today he sat in their radio booths, struggling under the same pressures they all struggled under. His latest venture hadn’t shaken hands with expectations, so the struggle for him was real again. Only now he experienced it in the sky, behind closed doors with golden handles that opened to reveal breathtaking views of the streets below. The streets he’d once claimed as his own. I suspect, when he’d lived on those streets, he’d gotten it into his head that in order to get ahead, he’d have to beat the system, and in order to beat the system, he’d have to learn it, understand it. Now all these years later, it seemed he'd learned the system’s language too well, digested its concepts too completely, grabbed too eagerly at the silly little trinkets it occasionally tossed out. Now he had more than most and yet he wanted more, and in this the people recognized the system speaking, not their beloved rap god who spit rhymes like Samaria warriors whirled swords, slicing away at the excess of fabrication and deception until all that remained was truth... lean and bare. So today, even though he ranted and railed against the system, that society that oppressed them from youth to old age, they who lived and breathed and had their being in the streets were unmoved by his performance. The anger and frustration were real, but his rhymes fell off their beats and disappeared into the gutters at the side of the streets. Today it was clear to everyone except him... he had changed, he had become the system. But there was truth in what he spoke. Not one of them, I suspect, would have turned their backs on the money, power and fame he’d been given. He had worked hard and he had “made it”, a thing they were all very proud of. But, I also suspect, as he’d climbed the dizzying ladder of success, he’d discovered... and this probably came as a great, shocking blow to his ego... that the air there, as fine as it was, contained the same elements the air everywhere contained. The prejudice he breathed in must have burned his lungs, and the racism that smacked him about was probably still ringing in his ears. I suspect this rant was the lava erupting and boiling over. Unfortunately the people couldn’t hear him... he was too far ahead of them now. They could see his outline in a billowing cloud of smoke, but could hear nothing beyond a roar. So while his volcano exploded on their iPhones, the radio interviewers, listeners and fans, all standing at the bottom of the mountain of his achievements watched the disaster unfold, and stepped back when the liquid rage got too close to their sneakers. Maybe one day we’ll dance in the gap between creativity and consumerism. Maybe one day we’ll rise above the system instead of merely trying to beat it. Maybe one day we’ll all look in the mirror and see ourselves as our own heroes and sheroes in this reality show called life.
It seems I said yes when I should have said no. History was repeating himself. This habit I forgot I had. But this habit had not forgotten it had me. I gave it life... my life. So now it returned for another ride on this merry-go-round called life. For me a test. Will I pass or will this ferris-wheel toss me to the ground again. “But this situation could improve...” “It could get better...” “Maybe things will change...” “Maybe it’s me...” “Should I really pass up this opportunity...” The list of rationalizations grows long and weighs me down Ok Wait and see... If you feel you must But don’t wait too long Remember your past... Your past is waiting To be repeated There is nothing for your past to do in the past but sit at that station, feet dangling off that bench, bored, waiting for your train to arrive so that leg of your journey can be repeated Again and again and again Until you learn the lesson Your soul came here to learn Let the past go... Fact is I was trying to please Guilted into compliance “You have so much, give a little...” “Remember all I have done for you...” That and a bit of flattery too That’s how I fell... But anger never steers you wrong. Anger is that great indicator. That flashing red light lovingly warns of danger ahead. Anger is that tree you crash into when you veer off the highway of your soul, drunk off of the liquor someone else gave you because you stayed too long in bars. Beware anger whispers... We often misread anger... lash out when we should look in. So I shine a flashlight on this darkness engulfing me, and realize I have made a mistake. I’ve boarded this luxury cruise-ship with ‘friends’ when I really wanted to explore that little creek in a canoe.
You see me Smiling in all my glory Like a sun Like a force of nature Wild and free And you think I am the answer To prayers To dreams To desires I am not You are... The glorious light Shining in me Shines in you Too All you have to do is Recognize Embrace you My mantra this year is I love and approve of me Love and approve of you Too Problems are a part of life They come and they will go Like fall and winter The beauty in my smile is knowing Spring Comes round the bend soon enough This is not the end my friend Joy will visit again
Mandela Troubled times Apartheid South Africa Jim Crow’s Crazy Cousin Fight for rights Fails. Ends in Jail Sentence Brilliance silenced Life Imprisonment & Tears End of story? No I think a new beginning Marvin Gaye said it best... & Sometimes a heart beats to songs of freedom. So history books read. Captors analyzed. What makes a man do what he does? There is a reason. Find it and a season of Understanding dawns Afrikaans once the enemy become Something else Something more like Human But uh how... A kaleidoscope of colors Like faces dancing together in the sun Red & yellow white & black & beautiful People Arise Truth whispers Only love can conquer hate Only love can conquer Only love can Only love love Love LOVE Once the change Completed inside The change outside began The crawling caterpillar spread her wings And the consequences were felt around the globe African butterflies everywhere You too can spread wings & fly
I can’t believe it’s been 6 months... 6 months since I began this experiment of weekly poems, ideas, and short stories... now I’ve shared 28 pieces. In the beginning it seemed like a monumental task, but deep down I knew that if I kept my connection open and followed the plan, I’d be fine. I do my best writing right after I awake, so in order to keep this poetry project alive, each day I needed to reach for my phone, open the writing app, and allow my fingers to type the words that strolled across my mind. Oh course life keeps on living, and the live shows came calling for my attention with rehearsals and set-lists and promotion. I’ll admit, I was more than a little apprehensive about the last few months, but I got back on track... I guess where there’s a will, and a lot of positive self talk, there’s a way. I’m proud of what we’ve created here. I’m sure I will look back at some of these poems in years to come and cringe, but that’s OK. Creativity is something to be proud of. Expressing oneself... revealing oneself... & embracing oneself are all worthy pursuits, even if a little cringing is involved. So thank you for joining me on this journey... here’s to another 6 months of poetry.


In 2017, I celebrated my birthday by creating a weekly poetry blog. Each Saturday at 3:05am, the time of my birth, I would share a new poem. This album is a compilation of the first 6 months of poems.

In the beginning it seemed like a monumental task, but deep down I knew that if I kept my connection open and followed the plan, I’d be fine.

I do my best writing right after I awake, so in order to keep this poetry project alive, each day I needed to reach for my phone, open the writing app, and allow my fingers to type the words that strolled across my mind.

I’m proud of this body of work. I’m sure I will look back at some of these poems in years to come and cringe, but that’s OK. Creativity is something to be proud of. Expressing oneself... revealing oneself... & embracing oneself are all worthy pursuits, even if a little cringing is involved.

I love words. I love ideas. I love writing. Writing allows me to make sense of this world, and my life in this world. Writing is my light at the end of the tunnel. I hope it will be a light for you as well.

Love & Light



released December 30, 2017

Written & performed by Nhojj
Nhojj Artwork


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Nhojj Orlando, Florida

Singer/songwriter and poet wading through the rivers of R&B, soul, jazz, and reggae.

My intention is to create sonic spaces where you can experience yourself through the lens of love and acceptance.

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