And Yet Another Member...

Has joined the "Dead Poet's Society"...

I cannot articulate how heartbroken I am over the recent passing of Maya Angelou, but I am. Just thinking of her causes my eyes to swell with tears that threaten to spill over. I am just that hurt...

I first learned of her in fifth grade at school and every year after that. She didn't quite catch my interest until I was in eighth grade and I found the desire to write. My English teacher was teaching us about poetry and she was one of the poets featured. Something about the way she wrote just captured me right in that moment and I knew that if I were to ever become a poet, I wanted to be like her. Her style, her depth, her realism just did something to me; I believed in that moment that that was how poems were supposed to be written and so, I began to write. The rest is history...

I'm not one to believe in idols but if I had to have one, she was it...

"I feel like I've lost a part of me,
Growing up, that's who I wanted to be,
Her words, her style, her everything,
Now forever a spirit in poetry..."
~La Kata E.K.~

R.I.P. Maya Angelou

One Should Never Be So Quick...

To cut off their nose to spite their face...

Growing up, I didn't fully understand what that meant. As I continued to get older, it made more and more sense to me. For a long time, I found myself moving rather swift with whatever sharp object you can think of. It's been only recently that my snipping fingers have become too cramped to cooperate. Which helps because you learn valuable lessons when you're not so quick to act. Basically, I've matured enough to appreciate the meaning of that saying and to know better than to make rash decisions.

(Personal Alert)

In the last four months about, I've cut off MULTIPLE friends and family members and I stress the word "multiple" because it's beginning to add up to too many to count. At first, I felt as if I acted too swiftly, but as time passed and more reasons surfaced, I realized that I made the right decisions. Some people can't understand my positioning, but what they don't realize is that when a person gets fed up, they get fed THE HELL up. I am one of those people.

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

I take trust and loyalty VERY seriously. Dangerously seriously. If you can't provide me the comfort of either, then titles be damned; I want NOTHING to do with you. And when I say "nothing", I mean it in every sense of the word. I've had to tone it down a bit because I would get good and annoyed at anyone who said a person's name that I wasn't speaking to. I would become extremely disgusted at myself for reminiscing on a positive memory involving a person that I no longer spoke to. It was getting to the point of poisoning my soul and that is never healthy. So I prayed and meditated until the pain of their indiscretions no longer hurt me; until their names were just simply words instead of words weighed with negative feelings. It took some time, but I'm doing rather okay now. I have to look out for me and my well-being, because what is important to me, isn't always important to others. So I have forgiven and I have even forgotten; by "forgotten",  I mean what they've done and them all together....

My Blog Tour

Find Me On: Amazon, Facebook,Goodreads, and Lulu!

Latest Release: "A Deeper Me"

Shout out to Raven St. Pierre! She is an amazing friend and an even more amazing writer! She is the reason that I'm stepping out of my box with the intent to take the literary world by storm!! Check out her blog here!

What am I working on?
Currently, I am working on multiple projects, but there are three in particular that I am focusing on. The first project is the Second Edition of my first poetry book, “The Growth of a Writer, The Depth of My Soul.” I'm changing the layout a bit and combing over every verse because the First Edition had so many errors that I was too mortified to promote it properly. The second project is my first erotic poem/short story book. Literary erotica plays an intricate role for those who are not really all that into watching it. I began working on it years ago and out of fear of outside opinions, put it on the back burner. It wasn't until recently that I decided to start back to working on it. I can't be who I am as a writer if I allow the opinions of others to dictate what it is that I write. The third project that I am working on is my first women's fiction novel. I actually began writing it years ago just as a pass time but thanks to a close friend, I've decided to put more time into it and actually finish it. Granted I'm only on like page 20 right now, I've come to the conclusion to not rush the process because by forcing it, I literally shut down. With me being so used to writing poetry and shorts stories, keeping a straight thought for more than a page or two is seeming to be quite the challenge.

How does my work differ from others in its genre?
Quite frankly, I don't know. Recently, I was told by a close friend that my writing is “transparent” and at first I didn't know how to take that, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I don't write with any hidden agendas or subliminal messages, I write exactly how I feel, exactly how things are, and exactly how things should be. I'm not afraid to take the bull by the horns and say what needs to be said. I don't recall ever writing anything that has left the reader completely perplexed in the sense that they no longer want to read future works of mine. More so than anything, without even trying to, I want to make sure that the reader can relate to what it is that they are reading because I feel that builds something like a bond between the author and the reader.

Why do I write what I do?
I write what I do because it's what I've been doing since I was 13 years old. Writing has been a form of therapy for me; a release for me when there weren't any others. My poems could practically be entries in my journal. Some of my very first poems are ones that surround the divorce of my parents. I've never been very good with talking to people about what I was going through and I'm even worse at finding the words to describe it, so writing seemed like a perfect fit for me. For years, and sometimes now even, a paper and pen are my only friend and at the end of the day I'm okay with that.
I prefer writing poetry over anything else because I feel like a poem can get so much said in so few words. It's as if you can tell an ENTIRE story and express THOUSANDS of emotions in just a few lines. Sometimes, short and simple is all you need.

How does my writing process work?
I've never actually had to think about that before. Honestly, if there were a process, this is how it is: something affects me and I instantly feel like I should write about it. Words immediately start to flow into my head, organizing themselves and falling into place as my mind plays "cold, warm, hot" with my emotions. Sometimes, words don't fit or fall where I think they should and I have to focus until a stanza sounds just right to me. Whatever I have access to is where I jot the poem down at. It could be a napkin, a receipt, the notepad in my phone, a messenger chat box, whatever. When the poem is finally complete, I read it over multiple times and sometimes say it out loud to see how it feels on my lips. After it's completed, I save it in a file and move on. Very rarely do I go back and read over something I've written. I think that's mainly because of the weighted emotion that I put into my writing, I don't always like to experience that again. For the most part, I know exactly why I've written every poem that I have and to go back and read some of them, is like ripping a band-aid off of an open wound. I can't really explain it, but I'm not really the kind of writer that constantly like to relive the moment.



Next Authors Up Monday, May 5th:


Sable Jordan

Stories so whet you'll want to lick my INK!
Quick and dirty, I'm a writer of multicultural erotica, erotic thrillers, and whatever else comes to mind. Tattooed vixen. Wicked humorist. Incurable humanist. Proud geek. Closet badass (shhh...) Lover of pit bulls, fast cars, all music, and candy. That's the nut in a nutshell.

Come hang with me: my website or my blog.


Chris Van Hakes

Chris Van Hakes is a writer and librarian based in Seattle. She loves love. She also likes magical things such as novels, high-fat foods, the Internet, unicorns and you.

You can visit her and say hi at her blog or on Twitter: @booksnchickens.



Be on the look out for works from this up and coming author!!!


Alisca Nalls

Alisca Nalls born in Alabama residing in Michigam. 29 Years old. Had a passion and love for writing since the age of 11. Writing is my escape from the world. Love to write uplifting poems and poems that women can relate to. Working on my first book no title yet. Love helping others and giving back.

Get to know me through my blog.

Memories Are Reminders...

Of what was will never be...

Have you ever found yourself despising your memories? Not regretting the moments but angry at the fact that you can remember them? Well, I have. Am actually...

I think it's because I have an ample amount of time on my hands so I have plenty of time to think, but my memories anger me. The good ones, the bad ones, and even the ones that just were. I know that having your memory is a huge blessing but right now, I would rather be cursed...

All of my memories remind me of "what was". Moments that have happened that will never happen again; all a constant reminder of the past. People, places, things, and actions. Disappointments and let downs. Accomplishments and pride. Almosts and wasn'ts. What are memories but constant reminders off what's no longer mine? (Sigh)

To remember or to forget? That is the ultimate question....

"I'm beginning to despise my memories,
Moments engraved in my mind,
The good, the bad, the inbetween,
Reminders of what's no longer mine..." - La Kata E.K.

On The Eve Of My Thirties...

I reflect on all that my Twenties has taught me. Both good and bad, lessons were laid upon me like a hailstorm...

March has been a long month for me. One that's been full of reflecting and soul searching. So many moments I fell into "Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda" thinking; became angry at myself for paths I didn't take when given the opportunity. On more than one occasion, I found myself reminding myself that I am who I've become BECAUSE of the paths that I've taken, the choices that I've made. My faith became my savior the moment I realized that the devil was trying to make me his servant. Though, I cannot truly put into words the mental and emotional trip I've been on, I thank God for pulling me through it...

And so with that said, I share with you some of my lessons...

·Your faith will ALWAYS get you through
·You can't trust everyone
·People are never who you believe them to be
·No matter how selfless you are, there's always someone that's selfish
·Never put your goals and dreams on hold for anyone
·Family will do you wrong in the WORST way
·Lifelong friendships means nothing if one of you are insecure
·People only want to know your business so that they can repeat it
·Be VERY selective with whom you loan money to
·Sometimes the "drama" that we find ourselves involved in was something that we brought upon ourselves
·Accountability is important
·Never jeopardize years of stability for a temporary curiosity
·Parenting makes your outlook on life change and matures you faster than anything else
·Life is full of hardships but the hardships make you stronger
·Everyone is battling some type of demons
·It doesn't make you selfish to sometimes put yourself first
·Men and woman CAN strictly be friends
·Every man and woman should have at least one friend of the opposite sex
·When boundaries are set, enforce them
·A healthy relationship requires growth
·Lack of communication can destroy even the strongest of relationships
·Never change completely, someone thinks you're perfect the way you are
·Opinions really are like buttholes
·Dreams and goals only have the limitations that you set on them
·Remain humble in all that you do
·Listen when God whispers because you don't want him to yell
·Material possessions do not determine the character of a person
·Often, your smallest accomplishments are your biggest ones

There are so many more lessons that I've learned that I could list, but I'm not. Just know that I'm going to go into my Thirties a lot stronger and wiser than I was while in my Twenties...

One Must Learn To Accept...

That time waits for no one...

(Sigh)

I will be 30 in less than two weeks and I feel more scrambled and unsure about everything in my life than I have ever felt before. I know what this is a direct result of and I keep telling myself that I'm over thinking it, but we all know that we are our own worst enemy.

I have set my standards so high lately that even I can't attain them! That, is ultimately, what my current mental downfall is. I feel like I should be so much further in EVERYTHING in my life right now, but I'm not. In some aspects I feel like I've back tracked, in others, I feel like I'm just sitting stagnant. More so than usual, I find myself reminding myself that I must be patient. That I must continue making the moves that I can yet all the while exhibiting a strong amount of patience.

Ha, patience! I never really was one to have too much of that...

My faith has taught me so much about my timing and God's timing and yet sometimes I find myself completely stuck on my timing. The best lessons are the most humbling ones and I don't know if I have it in me to be knocked out humbled again. I mean, if God sees to it, it will happen but for now I am trying to strengthen myself enough and discipline myself enough to where God wouldn't have to go out of his way to give me any friendly reminders; therefore, I have to keep in mind that there isn't really a such thing as "my timing" at all. 

I don't know. With age comes wisdom and with life comes lessons, so I guess I just have to remember that I'm not getting "older", I'm getting "wiser". Sounds good for now anyway...

Regret doesn't live here...

But apparently anger does...

The one thing that I thought I wanted the most, wasn't really meant for me to have. I was so close to getting it, or so I thought I was, but close wasn't close enough. I even wrote multiple poems about it to purge it out of my system, but apparently that didn't work; the residue from the adrenaline rush that the chase gave me still lingers, now stronger than ever before. Do I regret wanting it as much as I did? No, I'm just angry that I didn't get it. And I tried hard too, oh believe me, I tried. But ultimately, as much as I thought that I was in control of the outcome, I wasn't in control at all. Just a sheep living a sheep's life while trying to play with wolves...