Eyes Wide Closed

Okay, I miss writing poems. So, reader, you are getting a poem today from the last challenge that I didn’t finish. No judging.

Day 24: “Google Acrostic poems and write one. Do not take it too seriously.”

Please Help me by Eevee

Invoke the muse while

Nudging me to stay awake to

Eat my mother’s horrible

Eggplant meal, today I will not

Date another man whom

Comes to her standards

Of beauty, oh muse send me a

Freaking greek-god of

Fantastic majestic imagery, and

Empower influence on me to allow my

Eardrums while not hearing the voices in my head.


Just Believe in ME

Okay, I know I said I would finish the poetry challenge in May. And, now its June. I only have a few left and I’m always eager to write new poetry for you guys.

Speaking of poetry, I have a poetry chapbook I’ve been looking to publish. Whether in a contest, or self-publish, I do want my first piece of writing for the world to see is poetry. I eat, sleep, and breathe the poetic form. So, why not start there? I know, I’m dragging my feet but its only half my fault in motivation.

Understand me when I say this, “I live in a toxic environment.” Surrounded by good and bad voices of discouragement. I’ve always been my own cheerleader, so I’m use to the negativity, but like I said in my last post, this quarter mid-life crisis is dangerously invading my mind, body, and soul. What do I do?

Day 27: “Use water as imagery and/or metaphor or simile”.

Water is Wet by Eevee

I cannot see you in

ME, anymore

Why are you like this

For water is wet, bitch

My tears are not for

Sale, eyeliner streaks these

Stained cheeks cause you are playing

Games, with my heart

Ex lover

Kick in the Teeth

One of my favorite alternative songs is “Kick in the teeth” by Papa Roach. It’s an oldie, but the song does justice by educating listeners to not let life get you down.

Lately, I’ve been fighting this feeling of being a failure. Being afraid to write because of what others will say. This blog is suppose to be my reawakening, and yet at times, I’m still feeling afraid.

It’s like a pair of teeth, locked on a pound of flesh, which is hurting me and I’m ignoring the pain. I need to do better with motivating myself, so I can be a better leader, Seek my purpose more, and so on.

I am determined to finish this poetic challenge that I promised myself to complete. Day 28: “write a poem about teeth or spit or longing.”

Baby, simile by Evelyn Davis

why on me man

I am not your

Pet, peasant, pleasure-lover


My voice matters whether you hear

Or not,

I would hate to call the cops

Boom–bang, another male is


All for a simple

Command, comment

Declaration of an opinion

You think is yours, that

Your always right, men

In fact, little boys

Bang, bang cannot be

Avoid, aspire to accomplish

Growth, yet that mouth

Is trouble.

Who Am I? Writer, Activist, Librarian, or Poet

I want to start this month with a literary analysis of the book, “Becoming” by Michelle Obama.

I am writing this analysis a month in advanced (April 4, 2019, after a shocking self revelation) to a

particular section within the second part of her book, Becoming Us.

Michelle kept a journal during this part of her life and came to a discovery while dating the now famous,

Barack Obama. She asked her self in her journal two questions:

One I was very confused about where I want

my life to go. What kind of person do I want to

be? How do I want to contribute to the world?

Two, I am getting very serious in my

relationship with Barack and I feel that I need

to get a better handle on myself.

Michelle Obama

Girl, I feel the same way. I’m only twenty-four years old and I’m at an impasse.

I feel like I’m not really doing what I’m suppose to be doing with my life.

Michele had her realization at twenty-six, or twenty-seven. I can’t remember, but she

had that realization early on in her life. She began her life as I have: independent,

educated with two degrees, good job, and a great relationship, finally. Yet, she wakes up to

realize she doesn’t like her job because she is not passionate about being a lawyer. And Barack Obama

is the reason why. He’s passion and drive for others made Michelle sit back and think what is she doing

with her life for others besides herself. Ironic how another person can have an effect on you.

The impression of second opinion, outlook, story of struggle with being fatherless and broken family.

All the while, you live with both parents and they work hard to put you through school and college.

Your parents are proud of you, but don’t ask about your personal happiness. What kind of life is that?

Later on after these questions, Michelle answers her own aching desires.

Michelle states, “but I did need to quickly anchor myself on my own two feet”.

She meant she did not want to get lost in her newly found feelings and relationship.

A person can become consumed by love that he or she forget oneself in the process.

Michelle knew she had to find her niche and to find her calling now. I feel the exact same way.

Which is why I started blogging. In the beginning, everything started with me, myself, a notebook,

and a pen. I wrote a poem everyday until it become second nature. I came with the idea to create a

poetry collection by the time I was sixteen years old and publish that book first before anything else.

Then, the idea for a novel came next. Then, more and more ideas for series, trilogies, manuals, essays

came later on in the time span of two years. And, I graduated high school. Forced to go to college where

I lost myself in relationships and paternal expectations. I lost me.

Who am I? Poet, writer, activist, librarian

Often times, I am certain I am a poet. No doubts about that aspect of me.

Yet, the others are fairly new and debatable. I am a writer, but prefer reading sometimes over writing

anything. The activist and librarian are freshly new like 2019 new. I like the calling of protecting

information and the allowing the public to have access to as much information as possible,

but I hate school. The same uneasiness of sleep, stress, coffee overload, and more are falling

back into play. I needed to create some type of change and it needed to happen now.

So, here I am. In the middle-end of my first semester in Graduate school and I’m starting a blog.

The posts I’m writing now are like therapy to me that I’ve neglect like a child. My baby of sorts.

I knew in 2019, I needed to make a change for my career as a writer to succeed and I don’t plan on

stopping now. As for Michelle, she will find her niche as I am fighting to revive mine.

Twice Upon a Relationship

So, I just recently got into another relationship with someone old. We never really gave “us” a chance, a moment. A series of unfortunate events led us away, which frustrated me more than any relationship. Yet, I knew I was still in love with him. I couldn’t move on, forward with someone new. It’s like my heart wanted that chance again. A third chance. Therefore, this is my love story, 2019.

Day 21: “Modernize a fairytale”.

Once upon a time not long ago

I was single. Mingling did nothing

But make my ache hurt

Longing for him. A prince out

Of my reach, he’s wanted by

Many, envious by few

Yet, no luck with a princess

Even this one. We were zero,

Not a chance to last for jealousy.

Now isolated, the opportunity

Arises out of broken ashes

Like a phoenix, we are

One. Again.

The Statue of Michaelangelo

So, it looks like I won’t be finishing the poetry challenge, but I tired. I really did. for the remaining daily post. I will upload them on Sundays during the month of May. I think I have six or seven left. I will do them in random order cause why not. The challenge is incomplete for me, so diverting from the path is not hard and I feel no regrets.

Since National Poetry Month is over, I will an effort to try and write everyday until it becomes second nature again. My muse has been muted for too long because of emotional roller coasters, trials and tribulations. I’m sick of being tired, drinking coffee every day, and not being happy. Something’s got to change. My outlet is my writing, so be patience with my venting, or ranting about my personal life.

May will be the change I need. Hopefully.

Day 25 (because, why not): “write a list of questions you have for someone.”

Why no answer by Eevee

Why do you withhold the truth

lying to me won’t cause another argument, right

why don’t you date a girl on your level

do you feel pain anymore, or does it feel numb now

don’t know whether your weak-minded, or plain stupid

why do you love that girl

*This poem is a lost of questions I never got to ask my best friend who kept falling in love with the wrong girl. This is not my personal relationship, someone else.

Discovering Poetry: A Memoir

Sup folks, its Eevee the Poet. Today, I am reading a collection of poetry entitled, “How I discovered Poetry” by Marilyn Nelson.


So, while reading this poetry collection, I figured I might receive some type of inspiration or something. but in all, the poems made me laugh, I’ve been having a bad thoughts kind-of day. Then, I decided to research the poet, Marilyn Nelson.

Marilyn Nelson, picture from “Poetry Foundation” website

Her father was a solider in WWII. Specifically, he was apart of the Tuskegee Airmen. Then, I was like, Whoa. I remember seeing this word, Tuskegee. It is a private HBCU historical black university. Not many people know about this college, not even me until I did a history project my junior year in college.

The Tuskegee Airmen were a group of African American fighter pilots in the U.S. Army Air Corps of World War II; the U.S. Air Force did not yet exist as a separate entity. The Army had resisted using black men as pilots but, in response to a pending lawsuit, conceded to creating a segregated unit for them.

Just a fact of history for everyone to read.

The word Tuskegee originates from: Spanish “Tasquiqui“, which came from the Muskogee word “Taskeke“, a name of a Creek settlement and meaning “warriors.”

So, we are Warriors. I like that. No discrimination, everyone is a warrior in one’s own way.

The Tuskegee Girls by Eevee

fighters by trade

hunting for injustice

we are the voices of

many, unspoken

broken communities

poverty, emptiness

helplessness, hope from

religion, yet, we slit each others

tongue. We are helpers,

not made to destory

we can rise up from the fall

of any Man-made object

foolish pride cannot get in

the way, not anylonger

we shall rise up

like Tuskegee girls,

men, women

teaching our youth

love versus hate