I Am Old Enough To Dye
- November 2002
- 19 - The Anthology Of Woman
- 19 - Breathing Through The ...
- 19 - Prophesies Candles
- 19 - Nubians National ...
- 19 - Charity Have Mercy
- 19 - Dreams and Visions
- 19 - The Golden Cup Cries ...
- March 2003
- 12 - Man Who Hides From Truth
- 12 - Wisdom And Life
- April 2003
- 10 - Fear Not My Sons
- May 2003
- 08 - Cover Me with Scented ...
- 08 - The Lord Is My Shepard
- 08 - Poet after my death
- September 2003
- 25 - Tears I shed The Blood
- November 2003
- 20 - I Danced With God
- 20 - The Reason For The ...
- January 2004
- 15 - Confessions Of Love
- February 2004
- 13 - Baby Girl Save Your ...
- 13 - The Ten Commandments Of ...
- 13 - DEVELOPMENT OF WILL
- 13 - The Drawings Master ...
- January 2005
- 17 - The Women Warriors Are ...
- February 2005
- 23 - Darker Than The Door
- 23 - Author Jacqueline Amos
- March 2005
- 19 - Oh Black Mammy Strong ...
- 19 - Black Girl, Dont You ...
- April 2005
- 15 - Judge Me At The Bar Not ...
- 15 - The Talking Tree
- 15 - Old Man Locks Of Gray
- December 2007
- 22 - Confinment
The Talking Tree
I stand before the universe, in barked through history
I live upon the roots of the birth of earth.
My branches have felt the emphatic of the cold dark nights.
I lean my arms upon the east, the heavens protection
Upon the earth, I the incubation of nature,
I the birth of new inheritance, I can sing, and wave,
My limp sings through the wind.
I sleep no more in de mist of dawn or in the midnight
Invoke ideal the black mask to my aid, de bark, the
blackness of cane,
He pleads for the bounty of my head, dignity stands, at
greed, change hands, the hidden secret, the bounty , to
the lynch man, I cry in secret, my people dignity, the
hands of nature. Nevertheless I the foundations of the
roots, brown maple sugar come from my root.
I have been the slave to death, the root of tree, that
lynch my spirit of man and bond him around my palms, I the
incubation the spirit that lives within me, I have held my
brothers upon the tree, I the roots of my bark, the brown
maple, that lives within me.
I the wimpling willow tree, the subscriptions of my legacy.
I have lived and I have died, I return to earth, the raw
of the red clay, nature resolves my roots.
I stand tall, the species of the heaven, I embrace with
protection, the black earth that gives me life, the eyes
of the world, I sit humble upon the night, the angels of
birds fly upon my arms of freedom, I embrace them, as I
give warmth to the spirit.
I the spirit of my brother browned bark, upon the night,
the birds sings from my house, the nature of life,
comforts the source of my space.
I hold the secrets to life, I have out lived many, through
the laughter and the tears, I the bark the covers the
mask, of spirit, I live and my seeds, are productions of a
new life, the ancestors that lives within me, I tell the
legacy, the eyes of nature, speaks in silence, the roots
of the bark tree, brown maple that lives within me.