My mother and my father… They see in me what I can’t always see about my own self… They said… Son, u are a real Man!… Under God himself, no one’s opinion or view of me matters more then thiers… I am thier son. I get tired… But I’m still walking hard. Focused, helpful,and sober. All so I can be something worth having pride in for my own child. Thanks Mom and dad.
I am a walking contradiction of traditions some say. An African American and Native American Muslim poet with a personal life history as violently turbulent as a Storm. A visionary from the bottom of life’s social barrel striving to share the hope found in the light of faith through sometimes dark but real poetry. I’m a former member of the Bloods street gang, former serial bank robber, and both federal/state prison convict. I live on my mother’s tribal reservation of the Leech Lake band of Ojibwe in Minnesota. View more posts
