To The Girl

To the girl who sat at her desk,
head buried in the books.
To the girl who sat on the rooftops,
to get away from the hell within 4 walls.
To the girl whose sole purpose was to,
make something of herself.
To the girl whose baby brothers,
look up to her to help them, take care of em'.
Now...
To the girl who looks in the mirror,
to the strong, proud, and beautiful.
To the young women raising families.
To the females not afraid to show their love to another.
So....
To the young girl in the future who hear or read this poem.
             Stand Strong!

-Sincerely Fay,

Rants of a Poet

To some life never seems to be enough,
just to know that your alive is not enough!
We strive for things to make us complete.
It is to those people that I say I am alike!
I am grateful and blessed to be alive,
but to live day by day is not me.
I have to strive for doing more;
helping more, writing more!
Can I say more,
do I have to spill out that I have had a very sad past!
One that is wrought with abuse and pain.
Do I need to render your senses suppressed by my anguish!
Now listen to me rant!
Life is everything I do, the choices I make,
the struggles designed for me and me alone.
The things I do for me, for those around me!

        -Sincerely Fay,

Soldiers of Poverty

The world today is not made for the weak,
its not catering to the spineless ones.
The world today makes soldiers,
prepares its children for future wars.
The world today give birth to maturity,
it leaves little room for an imagination.
It forces little ones to grow up,
before they even leave their childhood.
The grounds on which we walk is soaked in tears and blood,
so deep in the roots of who we are.
The sheets and car seats filled with remorse and regret.
The things we have done and will do,
those secret things that stain our souls.
Those masks of calm, those frozen smiles,
underneath lies the broken child.
Forever savoring those moments of happiness,
small glances of hope.
The world today, birth children, children
of war, defeat, hurt, neglect, financial need, and fear.
This world today give rise to a new breed of children,
we are the Soldiers of Poverty.

Sincerely Fay,

Bedroom Blues for a Soul-child

A soul-child has no boundaries,
a soul-child weeps for those who cannot.
A soul-child works for all the things expected to be earned,
the sweat off the backs of those determined to be.
The soul-child plays in the gardens,
lay in the fields that caress the skin in the warmest places.
The soul-child free the shackles being placed on the soul.
A soul-child sings the loudest in the wake of a new day,
that time of day and night.
The soul-child loves the sunlight and dwell in moonlight.
The sun is hope, the moon path...
A soul-child haves a gypsy soul, a playful being,  a restless spirit,
a writers passion...
A million words for one thought...
A bed made of love and pain,
a cup of tea and toast.
For a soul-child is only wondering, only thinking about situations,
when the bedroom blues hit.

 Sincerely Fay,

Yours

Your heart is in the notes
Your mind in the keys
Your soul in the melody
Your essence in the sheets

Your passion in your fingers
Your life in headphones
Your pain in the practice
Your story in the music

Music is the remedy for life...

  Sincerely Fay,

We Save Those Who Are Not Worthy....

Those who are not worthy to be saved are usually the first we save,
seems to be a never ending cycle of human behavior.
We grant those who influence us the most power,
so therefore we acknowledge them to be superior.
We want in ourselves,
what we embed into those who faces litter our screens.
So then the question arises,
who do we save when those that are superior betray.
Just when we begin to understand,
we stray away from the path and start anew the process...
As humans our desires and compassion is our strength and our weakness.

                                         Sincerely Fay,

Brown Pigments Behaves

This child bathes in her pigment,
this child shines in pigment.
Her mahogany, her light tan, her cocoa, her copper,
her sepia, her seinna skin liters and marks her path in life.
Her fingers are the instruments in which her dreams become a reality.
Her lips brings knowledge that can only be expressed,
by that beautiful source of power she posses.
The soles of her feet dries her to conquer the world!
Her body ignites the flames of fires that burn deep within her mind-
her true lover.
No one knows her or holds her together better.
Her layers,
her brown layers keeps all the her greatness held within,
keeps her from being dissected by the world.

                                              Sincerely Fay,