New Year, New......Project (:

Hi, guys!

I've seriously been slacking on my blog--this past semester was absolutely ridiculous (6 classes = big mistake!) and I really didn't have the time and energy to write and update my blog like I wanted to. Now I'm on break and just taking a break from everything in general, so I'm slowly thinking of new topics to write about and discuss. The next big thing I really want to dedicate my time to is turning 20. My birthday is in 22 days, and I haven't even started yet. This is a really big deal for me, so what better way to commemorate this milestone than with poetry?! I'm so excited! So be on the lookout...it'll be published on my birthday, January 22.

2015 is only two days away and already I've seen posts about people saying the old "New year, new me" or something along those lines. Normally I avoid that for reasons I really don't want to get into, but because I've decided that turning 20 is a big deal, I do feel it's time for a change, as an individual and as a writer. I'm slowly starting to take steps to get out of this rut I've been in for the past year or so. After being at Marist for the past two years, I've realized what kind of person, student, and writer I want to be (not to mention my natural hair journey has also helped shaped these as well!). Despite the experience not being what I was expecting, I'm happy that I now know what I want. My 20th birthday is essentially the beginning of my new project: taking action steps now to get to where I need to be. That means changing environments, my mindset, my writing, my habits. I'm determined to make this my year.

XOXO,
Jay

P.S. I was going to make a list of my favorite posts from 2014...but I'm one of those artists who doesn't really like to look at his/her work. So feel free to browse through your favorites!

A Kiss

That last day of summer in our favorite spot
When your kisses were like snowflakes on eyelids
I could barely catch my breath
Each one placed randomly with such tenderness
And soft intent
They were drawing me more and more into you
It was magic
Falling in love all over again
So overwhelming that my tears fell like rain on a Saturday afternoon--
It was the most beautiful thing.

Hands Up, Don't Shoot

I became aware that I was Black when I started college last year. Understand what I'm saying: until I left my environment and came to one where hardly anyone looked like me, I was not aware of the color of my skin. A passion for learning about my culture and its history has always existed, but it's almost as if something lit a fire on that passion and now it's roaring out of control. This hunger to learn more, to be more politically active now exists and yet I feel starved. Sometimes I question if an HBCU would've been a better place for me, but I'm realizing that coming here was a wake-up call. Today we held a protest on campus, practically all day. When I got up this morning, I prayed, hoping that I would get to see others who care about what's going on in Ferguson as much as I do and want to bring awareness about what is going on to Marist. And there are. Between 12 and 8 we moved between the library and the dining hall, simply holding signs and passing out information. There were not many of us, but we still made a statement. I think about what happened during the Civil Rights Movement, and I feel obligated to do what those who came before me have done. This is our time; we should carry on that torch. I'm simply filled with joy to have met like-minded individuals, and I appreciate them for standing with us. And the general response from people was positive. Some clapped, some said thank you. It was amazing. I thank all of you for today; I cannot put into words how much it meant to me. I also thank my friends who came and stood with me and supported me. 

I learned a lot today, about myself, about my peers. It was a very eye-opening experience, and I'm ready to do more. Did you know that one of the major participants in the Civil Rights Movement were college students? What happened in the 1960s mirrors what is happening today. We have indeed come so far, but we've got so far to go. 

My First Love

To my first "love"--
If you thought this poem was going to be about you
You are sadly mistaken
This is for my first real love
Who made me fall in love with words and language
Whose metaphors send shivers down my spine
He introduced me to the essence of synecdoche and metonymy 
His rhythm makes me dance indefinitely
His cadence forcing me to catch my breath frequently
Infinite snaps to you, baby
And when his lines are harmonious
I swear I am on cloud nine
Getting off of that high is the last thing on my mind
Staring into his melancholy eyes
Allows me to see the world in a new light
He defies all of which I have ever known
Breaking rules that I've learned for years in school
Some see his madness as a delusion
I'd rather say that is exactly what he is acknowledging 
About this dry-ass reality
He is often misunderstood
His words often misconstrued
But I am infatuated by them
When he speaks to me
I am easily romanced by them 
Or easily confused
And I wonder if the way he speaks to me
Has made other hearts fall in love with him just as easily
I try to read between his lines
Dissect his stanzas
Look beyond his melodic phrases
Because real eyes realize real lies
His paradoxes are what stump me the most
The irony of them makes me wonder
And when wonder becomes questions 
Become assumptions become accusations
Becomes distrust becomes having had enough
He sweet talks me once again
And I fall in love with him once again
This is for you, my love
This, is for Poetry.

black bohemian rhapsody

this black woman
whose skin had been dipped in golden brown
and shimmers when sunlight kisses it
body covered in tattooed scars
hair braided long down her back
dancing a solo performance with no expectations
to her black girl's song
filled with whole notes and cacophony
her melody her lover has memorized
and croons like a songbird in the evenings
he has found beauty in her missteps
and when he joins her
there is such a thing as magic
she is queen
her hair is her crown
she is enameled in gold
ruling over all that is poetic
living among blank sheets
waiting to be filled
this is her home

Dark Room

Imagine sitting in a pitch-black room
Alone
Can't see anything, no kind of light is able to penetrate this kind of darkness
You are scared
You want to move
But how? Where will you go?
You can't see anything
Your heart is so heavy that it suffocates air going into your lungs
You cry
but that only impairs your vision even more
Mom is on the other end of the phone
trying to guide you out of this place
telling you, honey, you have to get out of there
But you can't move
Her love isn't enough to guide you out of this dark place
And you just sit there
Alone
In this pitch-black room
Suffocating
And crying
I used to think that I was untouchable,
that depression was just a neighbor I saw in the morning when I left for school
I'd laugh and say, no, I'm just going through something
This, too, shall pass
That I needed a doctor to tell me that I am suffering from it
But then I realized this darkness was almost inevitable
That it is a heavy cloak I wear every single day,
trying to hide it with a smile but concluding that that hurt way too much
I don't need a doctor to tell me what I feel in the pit of my stomach
That I am probably the 1 in 10 Americans who suffer from depression
That not a day goes by that I feel myself slipping back into my dark room
It scares me to know that I know this dark place
But do I think I have no way out?
That I will become the unfortunate few who succumb to it 
and live in eternal darkness?
No
I'm barely 20
I have yet to make my mark on this world
That is my light out of this dark room

Jada's Honest Poem

Hi, my name is Jada
In Hebrew that means wise, but I will believe almost anything
I was born on the 22nd of January--dead of winter,
how ironic it is that I am probably one of the warmest people you will ever meet
I am only 4'11, but I swear I am much bigger than that
I just don't want people to believe they can take advantage of me
Because small often times means weak
I don't know how to swim, which probably explains why
I find myself drowning in my own tears often
And I have a weakness for a guy who makes me drunk off of his play on words 
I'm still learning how to be sober
Because I fall for words from false lips
And often am too afraid to hear any truths
I was born a twin, and I've been afraid of lonely ever since
I like watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower
It comforts me in knowing that people just like me exist
We see things, we keep quiet about them, and we understand.
We are wallflowers.
I've been told I trust too easily,
That I always see the good in every single person I meet,
Ignore the bad signs,
And then become surprised when they do me wrong
I get really nervous when someone tells me how beautiful I am
It's not that I never thought so; 
I just didn't think anyone ever noticed me
I have an odd fascination with trees and lying in grass
They remind me of the first time I fell in love
And I feel him there whenever I'm in the presence of either
I guess that's why I have attachment issues 
I know it sounds crazy but it reminds me that I'm not afraid to get close to people
But I am scared to death when things stop going well and I may lose someone
Someone I have deemed as an important character in my story
I'm very clumsy
One day I tripped over my insecurities 
Landed on my self-esteem
And it shattered like a fallen mirror
And has never been right ever since
I've never liked taking risks
But I have this red badge of courage that makes me go after things that may hurt me
I wonder what my walls say about me when I'm not around
I go in my room 
Close my door
Undress my armor
And lie in my truth
But I don't tell it as much as I should
My name is Jada
I am a small person with a big voice and a big heart
I am a walking contradiction
I enjoy playing with animals, waking up late, and laughing until I cry
I have a solar-powered smile
And a battery-operated confidence
My hobbies currently include:
Editing my imperfections
Hiding behind my pen
And trying to convince my heart that it's not in love with the wrong person
I don't know much but I do know this:
That I am destined to write the wrongs of this world
And I know that one day somebody will love my scars
Just as much as I love theirs