My Energy


 

Hello its been awhile since I posted something. I’ve been busy writing this summer. I’d like to share my poem, “My Energy.” I wrote this poem for the many women I work with to encourage them that they’re more than enough. It doesn’t matter what others are saying about them because they don’t know them anyway. The only thing that matters is their children and themselves.

My energy is  whimsical and curious2015-08-10 00.02.59

My energy is colorful……it allows me to see the world as a rainbow.

My energy is universal……I am free to love others and celebrate our differences.

My energy is soulful……I dance to my own beat of life.

My energy is powerful……I am getting stronger and stronger everyday.

My energy is passionate…..I feel deeply about my independence, life, and my children.

My energy is truth……no one will take it away from me.

My energy is faith…..I believe I can get up and keep moving forward.

My energy is life….I woke up this morning determined to win.

My energy is fire…..I  made it through bad situations and found me.

My energy is earth……I’m not afraid to listen to my inner self to find peace.

My energy is brilliant…..I am smart, intelligent and clever

I am all of these things and more.

Written and copyrighted by Janiese Williams-Wesley

Mama Grey


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Dear Lord

Take my hand

Lead me on

Give me courage to open these doors you’ve given me to do.

Help these women with children

You gave me this shelter of light to be a guide to those that are lost.

Except I need your help to run this place.

I got no children to help me run this place or children to live this Legacy to.

Buildings run down

roof about to fall on us

Love is the glue that’s holding this place together.

 

Mama Grey         ( a voice outside the office door)

Mama Grey

Laud see what I’m talking about.

 

Mama Grey (Young ladies voice outside)

Mother Grey

we need your help

Chloe’s water broke

Daphne and Linda are fussing over house chores.

Continue reading “Mama Grey”

Cinnamon: Walmart Employee


Alarm clock going off

I got to get up

Darius

Coco

Yawl get up now

Get a move on

Mo ma can’t be late

It takes 2 hours

to get to work.

I swear I can’t wait

til income tax time

Mo ma gonna get a car (singing)

Laud yawl stop fool-in’ around

Who at that door?

Mr. Smith

What does he want?

Blah,

Blah,

Blah,

What? I got til this evening to pay rent.

Mr. Smith

I told you I’d have your money-IN FULL

tomorrow morning.

I gotta work a Double.

Oh alright, Mr. Smith! Alright

Good day, good day!

Continue reading “Cinnamon: Walmart Employee”

The Bitter Women’s Chronicles Volume 1


A Choreopoem written by Janiese Wesley

Make sure you don’t start seeing yourself through the eyes of those who don’t value you. Know your worth even if they don’t. Author unknown

Bitter Women Chronicles: Volume 1 began the moment I went into Social Services four years ago.  One evening I grabbed a notebook and pen and wrote down the thoughts I heard in my head. The women I’d seen in my dreams became real every day women I worked with. Many come from different walks of life.As I jotted down my thoughts,  It didn’t matter how much education they had, if they had kids, were married, single, poor, rich, or middle class. What they all had in common was: They’re all women. My words flowed like rain on a cloudy cold day. In my line of work,  I see many wonderful women who are scared, lonely, uninformed and bitter.

Each woman told me their story, and I wrote it down. No, they aren’t real women, but the stories represent real women around this world.  Jasmine the Pole Dancer, and a Girl Anywhere in the USA were born in the journey of this work. These two poems starts the Bitter Women Chronicles: Volume 1. I’d like to mention that I first heard the phrase, “Choreopoem, ” from Ntozake Shange.  The author of, “For Colored Girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enough.” Thus, I decided to follow in her footsteps and create poems that come to life. I want the stories to jump off of the page into your souls just like they did mine. Each woman is apart of me.

Continue reading “The Bitter Women’s Chronicles Volume 1”

Jasmine: the Pole Dancer


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Pinteterst …..saved from shop.thedaedals.com

It was Summer

around 12 A.M.

Saturday morning

Loud music blaring

Horrid men standing outside of the Dark Hole craving some entertainment

I waited for Jasmine to show up

A young lady I prayed for everyday on the 210.

Shifting

I hummed, “Amazing Grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I’m found”

Hoping to talk with her before she danced, “the Devil’s Dance.”

 

Jasmine molested at age 10

raped by her brother’s friend at 12

danced around the pole at 14.

 

Men and women think she’s for sale

I will travail

They make her have sex

giving her drugs

just like she’s their object

polluted her mind/confused

She dances

Impecunious

She works every night

Dances/ the Devil’s Dance

Puppet master

moving the strings

limb by limb

raising one arm

then the other

Like a zombie

sou-less shell

moving to his jig

steppin’ to his direction.

2 A.M. 

Crowd of nasty men

coming out of the Dark Hole

Liquored up with Spirits

I prayed, “Lord touch there wicked souls

touch Jasmine….deliver her from evil trolls.

Save her from this sin

Don’t let the devil win

Give her victory from this trickery

Amen

 

 

A Girl Anywhere in the USA Volume 1


Picture created by Pinterest

A Choreopoem By Janiese Wesley

Dead Deniah

Worthless

no good

You just like Him

You’re never amount to anything

Nothing

Stupid

Idiot

Spitting out foul language

snorting crack

Grabbed the belt off of  one of her John’s pants

Wrapped it around my neck

choking me

Air left my body

Lifeless I laid there

wishing to die

I was just five

The word, “Him” became poison in my mom’s mouth

Infecting me /leaving it’s filthy residue on my heart.

As I grew older

I lost me somewhere between the sheets

I’m just saying, “I never was a little girl.”

It left me looking, wanting any man to fix the void in me.

Mommy let them have me

She’d get high in the other room

I’d scream ,”Mommy please help me!”

She’d yell back at me for not liking it

or distracting her from getting high

I thought, why won’t she look at me?

It’s crazy how she’d listen to BB King and get high at the same time.

Every night I laid awake thinking about, “Him.”

I wished he was here to protect me now

I never knew, “Him.” 

He left before I was potty broke.

Those men left their dirty stench on me

the smell will not pass

Who am I?

I’m no one

just a corpse / a crack heads daughter

My insides were given to the wild birds

I’m their prey

They ate me

I am nothing

Blackbird singing in the dead of the night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

 

It’s your time

Jasmine the Pole Dancer

 

A Preacher’s Daughter


wpid-25d6386398fd0135990fee67d4215d29.jpg   A Preacher’s Daughter

A Poem of Pain

Written by : Janiese Wesley

On my eighteenth birthday

I left home with a backpack on my shoulders.

It was 12 midnight-

I jumped out the window and ran down the hill.

A Preacher’s Daughter

With no regrets of my childhood. I wanted to express myself so I told the world,

I’m ready to explore- so I ran away.

Escaped on the back of a white truck with a man that I didn’t even know.

He showed me the world of cyber space, chat lines, and pornographic pictures.

A Preacher’s Daughter

Womanhood called me and I ran to her.  She held me close and stretched her arms wide around me.She rocked and cradled me with hard liquor, weed and PCP. We danced all night like crazy lovers wishing that the party would never end.. Soon a day turned into 3 days and 3 days became 2 weeks.

A Preacher’s Daughter

Drunk in Lust and high from whatever potion the man cooked on his kitchen stove. He told me his penis was magic and I believed him. I’m eighteen and he gave me LIFE. One day our adventure stopped. We stopped at a Truck Stop. Our adventure ended cause he paid 5 truckers to perform a TRAIN on me.

A Preacher’s Daughter

That day I looked in his eyes for validation, love and hope.  But his eyes were hollow like somebody drained life out of him. I cried, “Mamma!” He said,” Hush girl yo mamma can’t do nothing for you now!” Visions of my mamma scolding me on the day I left was only a memory now.

A Preacher’s Daughter

Oh I wish she was here.  If I could hear her hollering at me or saying something- anything but this.

My soul left my body. I laid lifeless on that dark, dirty meat truck floor. ALONE

They stole my innocence-

Now I’m blue bruised…RUINED

Hey Sis


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Hey Sis

Didn’t you know that you are beautiful?

Didn’t you know that your name is going down in history as,

             Wonderful

Excellent

Sexy

Fashionista

Your picture isn’t on an ad for Cover-girl or Revlon you’re still beautiful

You may never walk the runways of Paris, and  Rome you’re still beautiful.

Your  Cover-girl moment is now!

Baby you Rock!

Yes you’re worth it, so go ahead and work it!

Hey Sis, You Are Beautiful

 

Paradise:My Inheritance


Heaven Is Paradise

How can I get back to Paradise?

Supposedly it’s a place for me.

But it doesn’t seem real to me.

I’m told it’s not a dream or fairytale.

It isn’t fiction/It’s my inheritance you see.

My spiritual parents had authority over all earthly things.

I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’m a Kings kid/reigning in high places/walking on streets of gold/nations giving into my bosom.

I’m told that I’m an Eagle with wings, and that my purpose is to sing.

SING

Heaven is Paradise

Paradise is Heaven

Not made my man’s hands

Designed and crafted by God/the original designer.

Creator of this world/All things he made.

He knows our spiritual parents sinned, but God doesn’t hold that against you and me.

Eve tempted by Satan/Adam tempted by Eve

Then God reminded me that if I come into His Rest/Salvation

I’ll have Life/Everlasting Life

        An Abundant Life

Life of peace and Victory.

This world isn’t my home.

I’m just passing through until He parts the sky.

For now I’ll go through Pain and Joy until he comes Back.

       Heaven is Paradise

       Paradise is Heaven

Live a Holy Life

Keep His Word

Follow His Light

and I’ll live in Paradise………

Copyrighted and written by Janiese Wesley@