A Writers to Go Tool Kit


As a writer I never leave home without a pair of headphones, a pen/pencil, a charged phone & a journal. I love listening to the sounds of the city. All the bustling back & forth, your ears that pick up incohesiveness of multiple conversations being merged together, and the flow of crowds as you watch from a comfortable distance. When I am not in the middle of a crowd, people watching is pretty interesting & can teach you a few things about human behavior.

So why the pair of headphones? Well it helps me to focus. It helps me zero in, completely, on one sound. This one sounds I can either pay closer attention to or it becomes such a strong point of focus that all sound becomes irrelevant & its almost like watching the world as a silent motion picture; except it’s live.

Pen or Pencil, nothing has to be permanent when it comes to writing. Words & meanings can change. I am never without a pen or a journal, on the off chance that a new idea may come to me. A charged phone can also come in handy, although I try to resist using it. Why? I want to resist editing my work as I am writing. I would rather all my thoughts, and the feelings I wish to convey, flood the page, before I go looking over it with editing eyes.

3 reasons why people are the best source for inspiration: Free, Highly Complex & they have Impact.

Whether the music is on or off, once I am in the zone I begin to create space for myself & allow the feelings that I may be sitting with to come up. Most of the time, depending on where I am & what I am listening to, it hold some influence over the mood & flow of what I want to convey. The feeling is the ocean & I choose to float with & against its currents. As a writer I have been reflecting on what it is I want to say. What is my message? Where does my story truly begin, where did it end & where does it continue to live? How does it fit in the small & vast world we find ourselves in?

people gazing affords me the opportunity to renew my hope for humanity. when the act of kindness is offered without having been asked. when the act of love lives in the smallest gesture of human and nature interaction.

A Writer’s Toolkit Playlist


Wish I understood 

Why actin salty

Felt so good.

Came so naturally. 

Expressed vividly. 

Wish I understood

Why it’s easier to be petty 

Than to choose ourselves and heal. 


Mind Yours • Going through Withdrawals 

Jo It Up!

Today, I was able to clear my mind, body, and reenergize my spirit. 6am came with the sun peeking through my window and found myself breathing deeply every ounce of warmth I could feel creeping it’s way into my skin. I could not stop soaking it up so I got up and started moving.

I stretch through the aches from lack of activity and begin to recite my mantra over and over … “I am courageous self love, I am trust, and I’m letting go.” I recite it as I breathe and let its truth wash over me settling every nerve until I feel steady; until it’s truth lives in my bones. I am ready now, more focused, and charged up to get started.

I get my clothes on plus a hoodie even though it’s blazin hip hop and r&b outside and I’m going to my roof. Complete sun. Looking back I realized I wasn’t sure what I was thinking. Anyway, I begin, I walk through the steps over and over using the corners of my roof as my point to reset. My shoulders hurt, but it feels good. I feel awake. I take a minute to admire the scene out in front of me. 

My home is so different now. Even the rooftops are different now too. I welcome the sound of the train passing by, its familiar, it’s part of home. That train has carried me to and from home, listened to every conversation, witnessed every step of my growth for as long as I can remember.

I reset. I move more sure letting my breath lead my steps. I keep going until the rising heat of my own body becomes uncomfortable.  With one last glance at the view I escape back into the cool air that waits for me in my apartment for rest.

Today will be a good day and it was.


I look upon the empty impression left behind from another one their late night walks.  Resignation embraces me and I cannot even bring myself to shake my head anymore so I stare at the ceiling and remember to breathe.  

Beloved, where have you been?

Have you had enough of the nothings

empty bodies promise you?

Did the feeling of her weeds

wrapping around your shaft

make you want to spill her seed inside her

Did you also tell her you loved her

massaging her belling

entertaining the though of

young with her

tell me

how deep does the lie go … beloved?

You still there?

I am warmed by the sun. Take me away from this day dream.  I roll over.  Why are you there? Why have you come back?  I thought you did not enjoy being here based on the way you managed to construct this smile as though you love me…as though you like you…but that must not be. 

Tell me Beloved,

When you wandered in and out of gardens

not my own

did you find all the colors you were looking for?

did it fulfill every fantasy you’ve ever had

Did it soothe the ache your mother left when she left you

tell me…beloved, you still there?


my garden is multi faceted vibrant

i am my own universe

and you had just barely begun to scratch the surface…

tell me beloved,

are you that afraid of what it looks like

to be with a strong womyn

because maybe it doesn’t fit the shaping

and understanding of examples set before you

tell me beloved

because you often seem to have

so many critiques about them any way

tell me beloved… you still there?

I look over your face and wonder for a split second if I should just be the one to do it, because the truth is something is off and I can feel it. There was something different about you then, in that moment, for reasons unknown then, a wall had been built. Silenced from your truth I was forced to settle for second best, unbeknownst to me. Beloved…you still there?  You had no idea but you looked lonely then too. 


It’s difficult, because it may sound like

I am upset with you…

and in truth…

sometimes I am

sometimes I’m not

but no longer can we be the cause

of our own self suffering

because in truth beloved

you haven’t been a part of this universe for a while now

and the harm does not physically live in the present

and I’ve laughed more than I have cried

and that’s a blessing on its own…

I walk with you silently…our voices have become mute to one another and when we do speak we’re like a broken record and I can feel my body preparing for whats coming before my mind has had a moment to catch up. You hold me and I listen to the one organ that cannot use words to lie to me. I close my eyes and listen to sound your heart makes.  I welcome the vibration each pump makes against my face and smile to myself. Breathe beloved…and you have no idea but I mean that for me just as much as I mean it for you. It’s steadi-er now. 

I have to get through, to let go,

to come back more grounded on the other side

so I took a trip and planned a few more

one ways, away, from the lack of motivation

that seems to live here

away from sleeping repeating cycles

that seem to enjoy being stuck on repeat…

Beloved, there’s just not time for it.

So, fuck it…

here’s to getting through

here’s to trying to wish well.