How you go? I go by Sole. That’s S-O-L-E like the shoes on ya feet. Now repeat after me: “I am worthy of a peaceful and prosperous life. I deserve to be free.”

Man, fuck your worth, I deserve peace! I’m the one out here in these streets. I’m the one sacrificing my dreams. I’m the one neglected, forced to feel defeat over and over and over, on repeat. I’m the one that had to help you clean them dirty ass sheets. I’m the one who had to force you to eat. I’m the one who never got to speak, and I’m the one who did all that shit for free… and I kept it discrete.
Cuz your pain wasn’t for the whole world to see. So I fabricated a world where you didn’t have to flee. Gave you a space to express your creativity. Gave your lonely ass a sense of connectivity, even while dealing with all your undeserved egocentricity. Dug through all the bullshit and gave you your authenticity. Made sure not one soul, not even your mama, would notice your declivity. I joined the army to fight the tears while you ran and cried to your mommy. In this circus of a world, I became the ring leader, while you settled for being just a carny. I read every book and learned from every pastor, preacher, and swami, while you cursed the mere idea of Bani. I learned to be silent every time we’d disagree and dealt with every plea of “Lord, please just take me.” You destroyed your home and I rummaged through all the debris searching for the key to keeping you happy. I cut off so many parts of myself I might as well be an amputee. I kept calm and collected while you were begging for attention, screaming like a banshee. I waded and swam, nearly drowned in your emotional tsunami. I took every toll and paid every price, with no indemnity. Well now all that I do costs, now there’s a fee. Cuz just like you, I deserve to be free. Now, you have no choice but to respect me.

Why I Deserve Respect

Early in my childhood is when the real trouble started.
It was confusion, it was delusion, and I was very broken-hearted.

But as I got older, I learned to cope with art.
A crayon in my little hand marked the very start.

First, it was drawing- mainly animals and flowers.
Then thinking up poems for hours and hours!

I sing, I write, I play the cello.
And I’m never afraid to ask, “How are you?” or say, “Hello!”

Yes, I’ve been through so very much over all the years.
Now I write to all of those that will hear!

The reason I believe I deserve respect is that I have so very much to give.
Art, music, poetry- a whole life ahead to live!

Last, I deserve respect, honor, and dedication
Because I am a giver of hope, kindness, and inspiration!

I’d like for you to put some respect on my name.
I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, but i guess you saw how I wear my pain.
How dare you fix your lips in an attempt to drag me through the dirt?
How do you judge someone for the past or the resilience it took to even share their hurt?
You must be packed in bubble wrap to throw stones in a glass house,
And you must have all the answers if you chose to let someone’s insecurities come oozing out your mouth.
See it’s easy to judge when you’ve never done anything except sweep your emotions under the rug.
I don’t know too many people who aren’t traumatized by drugs,
Bad relationships, assaults, lack of hugs,
Deaths, illness, hell just because.
Life hands out ass whoopin’s daily.
We have no choice but to persevere,
But some of the things we experience almost kept us all from gathering here.
They called us strong when we didn’t feel like it.
We hid our tears and all the times we were too afraid to ask for help.
Hell, there were many days of looking in the mirror without recognizing ourselves,
So give yourself grace.
You survived something the person next to you couldn’t imagine having to go through.
And fuck what the critics say because they don’t slightly even know you.
Respectfully.
No one walking this Earth has the right to judge another on their past or pain,
So next time let them know to put some respect on both our names.

Respect. It can be a tricky concept sometimes… but I deserve respect because out of the 8.1 billion people who live on this beautiful planet, I am undeniably unique. I am 1 of 8.1 billion. I may look, act, see, and talk differently, but I am still human. I deserve the same respect as the homeless man living under a bridge. I deserve the same respect as the richest CEO on Earth. Because I am human. I breathe the same air as my neighbor. I drink the same water as my enemy. I sleep under the same night sky as everyone else on this planet. I get sick just like everyone else, and eventually, I too will die as the cycle of life will take over as mother nature intended. All because I am human.

R
E
S
P
E
C
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Find out what it means to me.
Actually, I’m still finding out, too.
I’ve made friends with bad habits like quitting early and cutting myself short.
I hang around with the idea of starvation, letting my stomach’s gurgling protests fall on ears closed tight, eyes fixed on an image that isn’t my body.
I let my to do lists build and build until they crash over me like a wave and wash me out to sea.
I get overwhelmed so easily these days,
and overstimulation is a constant companion.
I bought special ear plugs so that my daughter’s temper tantrums wouldn’t send me over the edge.
When I put them in, they replace her often jarring noise with tiny whispers that I am a bad mother.
I forget to feed my dog, and I can’t bring myself to put away my laundry.
Baskets of clean and dirty clothes sit in my broom as stalwart reminders that I fail.
I fail a lot.
But sometimes
I finish a poem, and I believe it’s good enough to share.
I let my body tell me what it needs, and I indulge it.
My pile of tasks gets a little smaller, and I let myself feel competent.
Confident.
When my daughter screams, I scream with her, and we crumble into laughter.
She hugs me and my whole being floats.
I’m a good mom.
And I feed the dog, and conquer the laundry.
So if I’m still learning that my body is less like a temple and more like a celebration,
and if I’m still figuring out that imperfect isn’t a slur,
and if I’ve almost realized that good enough really IS,
then I think I’ve also learned that respect is a gift I give myself.

A spirit bound within flesh.
I have become one in mesh.
A celestial being with utmost respect.
Shedding my light on the world as I bled and bled.
Gaining arrow after arrow in my back.
Never a helping hand do I lack.
Wishing a world full of peace and serenity.
Something that might not come unexacting for the ones who stepped on me.
Spreading awareness with love and light.
The utmost respect should be given to I.
I, a goddess in the flesh.
A divine human seeking success.
Not the success you see in material things.
Yet, success you see in making a change.
A change this world is desperate to gain.
I fly so high, up, up to away with my wings.
A human who should be so evil or unkind.
I wish nothing but the best for you and I.
Our souls know the ones not meant for our path.
Trusting the universe as I grasp my weapons.
Weapons gifted to me by ancestors in heaven.
Choosing wisely who’s given advantage.
For the utmost respect to me, as the battle I chose can heal he, she, we, within me.

In our world, we are surrounded by inescapable beauty standards, trying to pinch squeeze and fit into their parameters.

The average woman spends three hours a day on social media, competing for likes and searching for happiness, like Wikipedia,

Yet she lives in fear behind this glamorous veneer, never enough to love what she sees in the mirror.

We are told because she is tall and skinny. She is worthy.
Because she comes from money she is worthy,
but if she is smart, you’re chubby was nice of her to try, but please step to the side,

She was immediately judged by the size of her waist, the roundness of her face if she is pleasing to the eye, if there’s a gap at her thigh and I asked if this is right?!

Should her worst be so easily denied

Well.. If she is like me, there is hope on the rise cause I’m taking my worst back!

I’m taking a space on the stage with confidence in my face to tell you as a woman loudly, and probably that my worth is a dependent on what they think about me

I asked all my sisters and queens to look in the mirror and finally be a seen.

She’s worth because she’s smart.
She is worthy cause
She is kind she is worthy cause she’s herself, and She will not be confined.

Dear Gerald,
If there’s one lesson you’ve learned in all the years you’ve been on this Earth, is that you were worthy of respect all along. 

You knew deep inside your heart since you were little that you desired to be respected like a lot of your peers, family members, teachers, celebrities, and authority figures who you saw had a lot of respect, like the Reverends and Pastors you grew up watching preaching in a few Baptist churches. 

But respect was rare in your early journey. Not a lot of people shared your deep belief that you were worthy of respect. You were undermined, dismissed, and belittled just for existing how you wanted to exist. 

That soft-spoken sensitive soul just wanted to enjoy being comfortable in his own skin. But the troublemakers refuse to let that happen. 

These experiences of disrespect created doubt & inner demons that you would wrestle with throughout your teens and early 20s, while you tried to figure out who you were and where you fit in a microwave world. 

The inner demons desperately wanted to take you out and celebrate victory. But, something made you keep fighting, because you didn’t want them to win the war. 

Today in 2023, you still stand, feeling stronger than ever. Plus, you can say without hesitation that not only are you worthy of respect, but that anything less than the respect you expect is unacceptable. 

The disrespect you’ve endured throughout your life taught you that respect for self is imperative -  because without it, other people will disrespect you if they have the chance to. 

You’re worthy of respect because you’ve always strived to be a respectable person in a sincere way. The road wasn’t easy to achieve that. But you went through the fire to know what’s acceptable and what’s not when it comes to how you want people to treat you. 

You give people a chance to show why they should be respected and to see if you should respect them. If they failed the test, then they failed your class. 

You’ve learned repeatedly that respect should flow both ways between two people (or more) who appreciate each other. If respect is only flowing one way, the person who isn’t being respected must demonstrate self-love by removing themselves completely from that person. 

It can be a challenge at times to say that we’re worthy of respect if we rarely receive respect from others. But when we have people who care about us and show us how respect for ourselves should look, we can say what’s true in our hearts, that we’re worthy of respect too.

Sincerely,
Gerald

My presence Is a Present
I’d say kiss my ass
But 9/10 times you probably already did
Or at least fantasized about it

Don’t take my love for weakness
Or my heart for granted
because when I hit you
with the access denied
You gone panic

I’m a prize
But I’m not a trophy
I’m a treasure
But I’m not just for your pleasure

You can’t pick me up
and put me down
When you don’t want me

I promise you
I won’t sit around and collect dust
Waiting and debating
Should I stay or should I go

Because the difference
between me and a trophy
Is that I won’t be around
when the dust settles
Because I don’t settle

I’ve wasted too much
Of my time
Trying to be patient
But you can lead a horse
To water
But that doesn’t mean it’s gone drink it

Like what makes you think
You can play with me
I’m more than what you see
dope vibes
And energy
So don’t you dare
Come to me
Past your prime
I’m not sorry to say You’re out of time

You should have been
On your knees
Worshipping me
I’m a Queen

Better yet a Goddess

I surpass the constraints
of the program
I know
who I am
and who I be

So nothing you do
Can phase me
You can’t even
Amaze me

I’m priceless
So my presence
Is a blessing
And you’re ungrateful
I don’t have to be with you
To know you ain’t faithful
I can tell by your distasteful
Inconsistent lukewarm ways

My presence is valuable
And you missed out

Someone pour out
Libation for them

Feel sorry for them
Because I don’t
Dust settles
But I won’t

I will always be worthy
Of love
I don’t need them
To justify it
They knew it too
That’s why they sometimes
Treat me the way they do

I’m the most
Precious thing
You could have ever
Held in your hand
A heart of gold
Love as endless as grains of sand
A pure soul

A smile that’s a work of art
A body only the creator could design

And if you don’t think I’m worthy
That’s perfectly fine

Why am I worthy of the utmost respect?
This can only be answered with a short summary that is very emotional.
I was an unwanted, and unexpected baby, born to a young mother that didn’t really want to be a mother. I’m told that my mother left me in wet diapers, that burned my sensitive baby skin with urine. I’m told that she left me crying and did not meet my emotional needs. This was proven to be the case.
I was bounced around and handed over to anyone that would take care of me and to many that didn’t.
Due to this, I was unable to form bonds, or form healthy connections to others because I didn’t feel safe. That’s the easy and less painful way to put it into words. I never believed that I had a purpose. Until my grandparents decided that enough was enough. I’m told that my grandfather saw something special in me, and that he believed that I could break the family cycle if he were to take custody of me. That my friends was the beginning of the rest of my young life. It wasn’t easy growing up in a very broken environment. I have been in therapy since I was 4. Unfortunately, I had to do some of it with a very detached mother. At that point, one starts to realize that they have to protect themselves. That they have to be strong. Also, that they are worthy of love. It’s not easy at all, in fact, it’s one of the loneliest battles to fight. My best friends became my stuffed animals in my bedroom and each day I would line them up in my room and ask them how we could solve the problems of the day. A bad visit with my mother? Check! I was a bad girl today. Check. I didn’t know which end was up many days because my decisions were made for me in court by a judge. I had to have the visits that would lead me deeper into the spiral of self confusion and insecurities.
I spent most of my young life trying to gain the approval of my mother. Instead, I became her biggest disappointment which she would almost always let me know. Michelle, why can’t you be more like your sister. You’re such a wimp. Such a cry baby, overly sensitive etc. Her words burned into my heart and I couldn’t quite figure out how I was so different from others. Generational Trauma is real. Also known as generational curses. Breaking that cycle is very hard. I fought for years. I fawned, and I tried to be the image of what my mother wanted me to be. I am now 45 years old, and both my grandfather, and my mother have passed away. I lost my mother in 2019 and we were estranged at the time of her passing. When all of the painful memories start to rest their ugly heads it is my Grandma who encourages me now. She supports me and when I cry to her, I tell her I feel as if I am just floating here on earth, it is her words that keep me going. I no longer float along this life because I know that I was born to fly. We all deserve respect. We are all worthy of love. We are all beautiful hearts and our purpose is to try uplift the broken. To love the unloved. To encourage the hopeless and to help others accept who they are with no judgement.
That my friends makes me worthy of the utmost respect. The journey that I have fought through the last 45 years.
*Hopefully this writing makes sense and touches souls.
Trauma has taught this woman that she deserves nothing more than 100% respect. We all deserve the utmost respect.

Shelle Belle

As the sun sets and the centerpiece finds its place, we contemplate: where do we, in our differences, stand? Vibrations of our imperfections magnify, birthing expressions of distrust and anger, like flowers flourishing in the harshest conditions.

Yet, firm we stand, forging a bridge of verbal cues, a path where misunderstandings are not barriers, but stepping stones to compassion. In the face of disagreement, I nurture the tender seedling of respect.

We gather, our words painting ideals that soothe the soul’s unrest. Hands reach out, meanings intertwine, and in the midst of it, we welcome a vibrant spirit of life.

We strike the match of observation, and in our symphony, the merging respect hums a keynote. A song carried on the winds by the mature muse of mothers, giving life to images that often stand as concepts. We act in unity, living out the meanings of these actions, even when they diverge from our own.

In time, I earn your trust. The understanding light in the eyes of my peers, peeking into my perspective of wisdom, nourishes the garden of respect, cultivating gratitude on the vibrant leaves of our shared journey.

Does this resonate with the respect I’ve earned? Through engaging dialogues and shared experiences, respect becomes my emblem, not for agreement, but for understanding. This garden, a testament to seeds sowed with patience and empathy, is my deserved sanctuary. Even when our views diverge, respect bridges the gap, a testament to the power of understanding over agreement.