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Soul Barometer

Soul Barometer

I follow my children on Facebook and other Social media platforms. But that's not my sole barometer for knowing them. Knowing them is my soul barometer. Yet, despite good intentions there are still many levels and concepts I've missed and messed over the years. Because other than being my children they are human beings. People. … Continue reading

SoKey's Driveby Poems

  • I may dig a little deeper. Dissect & analyze situations, observe & research every angle. I may be an empathetic empath, writer, a poet who tends to understand too much and takes too little. I may smile. Laugh a great deal, spreading my arms to embrace this space we share. You may be drawn by my aura, sketching time portraits, boxing me into a frame. You may picture me, trapping me behind tempered glass, tagging me poetic nymph, naked with fluttering wings afloat symphonic winds. An illusion of allusion. You do not know my hammer. Cast iron heavy, swing strike lethal, glass shattering menagerie release of words & deeds and indeed will be shocked when the locks come unhinged. I binge sometimes. Having dined, gorged on lies & misconceptions until I vomit your perceptions back at your feet so you can walk freely in the reality of me.-Iya Isoke (pobody's nerfect)
  • And so what am I to do now? Where am I to place a love interrupted? A heart disrupted? Where my love? am I to set aside what’s inherently inside? Life for you has it’s answer – definitively divine. As for mine? I am an ellipsis time elapsed and collapsed in suspended animated panels of a graphic novel idea of love trapped within the frigidity of an ice cubed existence – frozen in time. Where my love does nurture go to die? Iya Isoke © 5/28/11
  • my spirit once grounded now flies and flickers about scattered in blind circles, I am an unwritten play without benefit of storyboard, script or plot, each day the cage door opens and I am pushed by winded wings; homeless, I am creativities nomad.
  • I have tried looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, but the thorns of reality continue to pierce my eyes; and so I blink back the bloody tears and write what I see. - Iya Isoke

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💞 Bye Felicia. Weekend. Get 👋🏽Away. Lunch today courtesy of my daughter. She had a taste for soul food with an Asian infused influence. It is delicious!!!💞 Do these look like the feet of a woman who plans to do a massive Friday workload? Nay I say. Nay. 😊TGIF!💞 Which one(s) are a struggle for you?? If we master the four agreements we'd have a more peaceful less stressful inner core. 💞👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾 I'm always equally amazed at life. Which means I have the brain of a 3 year old😳. Whatevs!😂 Because Nana's bed is the bestest💞. This is what I woke up to. Sometime in the middle of the night she infiltrated. 💞 I'm just busy watching the collective battered wives syndrome being played out throughout the nation. Those who voted for 45; those who chose not to vote; those unregistered voters; those who decided to cast a protest vote or simply throw it away on a write in candidate like "Mickey Mouse" (bet that hilarity of the moment has rudely subsided. Voting should never be an emotional endeavor. Yet we allowed hurt feelings, propaganda and "fake news" to lead us straight to the mouth of the hungry lion. Even bypassed the warning signs to do it. Americans proved ourselves to be the moron in the movie walking toward the noise in the dark.  Minority Americans continue to be audience members shouting at the screen "Run beyotch!" Because we know better. You just don't like how unruly it appears. Well there's no manager to run us out this theatre. So on to the next act. Whooo whooo! Let the week END BEGIN🤗💞🏄🏽‍♀️🏊🏽‍♀️🚣🏾🤸🏾‍♂️🎨🎭...😐right after my nap😑. 🤓 Sliding into Friday like...

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