National Poetry Month Tribute www.prevailnprosper.com @prevailnprosper #prevailnprosper facebook.com/prevailnprosper
RUN IT!!! -Luis M. Ayala Founder and Owner
Prevail N Prosper is a design collective fashioned to showcase artists of different trades and talents. We give them a forum for their voice to be heard. In exchange, they take us on an aesthetic journey of the world through their eyes. Inside every issue, we feature artists specializing in tattoos, canvas, poetry, photography, design, and music. Underground art, collaborated under one roof. The only way to Prosper is to Prevail today.
SUBMIT WORK AT: email@example.com April is National Poetry Month. PnP is looking for poets of every kind to submit work to be featured on our website. Poetry can be written, spoken, video.. you name it, we take it! History of National Poetry Month: â€œInaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month is now held every April, when schools, publishers, libraries, booksellers, and poets throughout the United States band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. Thousands of organizations participate through readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, and other events.â€?- Poets.org
Released May 2014
Blue Destiny Nicole Rogers Murphy, NC www.music4youreyes.blog.com Denim Jeans Against an azure sky. Faded wooden dock, beside Still, shining waters. No shoes, no problems; Only laughs and words whispered. Promises made, Secrets kept, And hands that swear to never let go. Turquoise dress. Crystal tears run, A waterfall sizzling onto the creaking dock. No shoes, problems pouring forth Like sand in an hourglass. Worse nightmares coming trueA lonely shadow on her knees. Hurting, missing hands she fears sheâ€™ll never hold again. Sapphire ring, Heâ€™s knelt there on one jeaned knee. Her eyes wide, glitter with Love filled tears. Initials and a date etched into faded Creaking posts. The dock stands on, Like the promises their love will Be built on. Hands that only death can pull apart. Cobalt sweater Covers her shaking arms. Falling on knees too weak to stand, On the mossy bank. Collapsed. The sturdy dock, And his loving heart. 80 years of everything they were, Drift in the wind As ashes, sprinkled Over sun kissed water So blue.
Here and There by: Geanice Gee
Capitol Heights, MD
Here and there There and here I just can't be everywhere In the store or in Delaware What you ask is so unfair I just can't be everywhere Here and there There and here I just can't be everywhere At the park or down the stairs With you my time I have to share I just can't be everywhere Here and there There and here I just can't be everywhere When I'm on the road I'm unaware Of the lost time spent with billionaires I just can't be everywhere Here and there There and here I just can't be everywhere Days are short nights quite rare Heart is torn from all the despair I just can't be everywhere Here and there There and here I just can't be everywhere Losing sleep a few grey hairs Going through this because I care I just can't be everywhere I just can't be here and there
Self Destruction By: Geanice Gee
Capitol Heights, MD
FAST MONEY FAST CARS LOOK AT YOURSELF BEHIND STEEL BARS CHEAP WOMEN SHORT THRILLS ALL THIS CASH HAS U SURROUNDED AROUND TRASH APRIL SHOWERS BRINGS DOWN THE POWER TURNS OLD FRIENDS SOUR MAKES U INTO A COWARD BANK ROB FIGHT KILL DOING ALL THIS BUT STILL CAN’T PAY THE BILLS PRETTY DUMB LIFE GONE PETTY CRIMES ALL ADD UP TO HARD TIMES RIGHT WRONG CRIME TIME FREEDOM GONE CAN’T PAY THE BOND
Racks by: Daisy Baker
Wordplay By: Lyric Ishani Dallas Fort Worth, TX https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CA-JmGTQL4Q
Music Jay Sinner Greenbelt,MD This is my declaration to her. We all know who she is,shes the one that puts a sweet smile on our fases when we want to cry. Her voice so sweet it would make your blood sugar rises. You cant see her but you know shes there. Shes that light at the end of the tunnel to help you find your way. Her beat makes you move in ways you would never knew you could. Shes your salvation when you think all is losted. Shes the sweet sound blasting from you headphones at you walk home from a long ass day. Shes the tender touch you need to feel alive, the honeysuckle you taest on a worm summers night, the lovely medoldy you hear the old man down the street play for his wife,the view of the ocean slamming against the sand at the beach. Shes is life,love ,laughter. Her name is Music.We all know her. We've all met her,needed her, loved her, hated her. At one point she may have even saved our lifes. This is my declaration to her. To music......You have always been then when I felt like the world was against me. When all hope and faith was losted. When some one I loved passed or when some one I loved was brought into this world.You always knew just the right words to say at just the right time. Music I thank you for always being you.
Must Be Nice by Lynn Schauer
The lunar sunset creates shadows By: Analisa Carswell Jacksonville, AL To dance upon your pale statue. Statue of stone hard crevices that act like a smile. Yet, and yet, your guilt plays upon your rock face. So untimely. Your face not yet recognizable through the shadows. Yet still I can your distrust. I wonder. Thoughts echo through my body. I wonder repeatedly. Wonder why you promised the world, the placid world To rest in my arms. My arms are bare and dry If you discount the tears.
why do you tell me a year too late By: Analisa Carswell that your attraction to me is so great in front of the world a bit too late.
I will fly with angels By: Analisa Carswell Laugh with demons Cry with saints. Rejoice with sinners. Dine with tigers, tame a human. Be myself at all times Unless you are near.
By: Vanessa Bly
Am I Beautiful? By: Dionysus DeVille Chicago, IL Staring into the mirror I am a villain of my vision My eyes become the image of a personal prison Unhappy to see the man standing before me Self-worth entrenched, drowned in an endless sea Woke up to fifty more pounds, I let myself go Crying, wondering how I could fall so low The scales become shadows of the Devil’s numbers My confidence blacked out in an eternal slumber Haunted by the person I used to be Skinny, happy, and carefree Try to recapture that feeling but it fails to rise Feeling trapped behind my own self disguise How many likes can I get on a naked pic? Will you call me if I show my dick? Like my status, rate me, tag me, show some love Will you stay with me if I refuse the glove? Questions of a dark misconception Hungry for a perfect perception Trying so hard to be anybody that’s different But then left feeling empty and insufficient Belligerent thoughts that rot my mind They kill my soul and blind my shine Falling down, can’t seem to stand my ground My insecurities blast my ears; vengeful sounds These lies I’ve fed myself rip and tear my life into pieces The ebb of flow of my pain banks me on its beaches Try to save myself from self but my reflection keeps on laughing Try to catch my happiness, but its shadow keeps on passing Am I beautiful, I ask in an endless refrain? Inquiries that rattle and shake the base of my brain Where is the last stop on this motionless train? I ask as the pain sleeps only to wake again
LADY ANNABELLE Tokoni Uti
She has a will, she has a choice. Now too loud to hear the noise. All those who never wanted to be. And all the voices that we see. Today she drowns in her regrets. Tomorrow she is silent but will not forget. There is nothing else to give. She loses her will to live. Victim of fear, slave to her plight. Find your ray of light. Sound off chanting, ring the liberty bell. Tears will fall for lady Annabelle.
War in My Head Tokoni Uti
My mind is at war with my head. My soul is distraught wishing it were my body instead. My mind is chasing imaginary sunset and stars. My head wants to remain as we are. My mind is the keeper of the things that will not be bought. My head is the mistress of my happy thoughts. My mind is waiting for the Holy sign. My head believes Heaven and earth have resigned. My mind and head are almost at war. Agreeing to disagree at my core.
DES | DAZE | RESE
by: Big X Chicago, IL facebook.com/bigxlives I am the gun that is fired full of rage that rips through rib cages of children on Chicago streets I am the cold blade that is plunged into the backs of silent lovers while waiting for their spouse to creep back in bed smelling of another I am the risk that keeps you cowering under a security blanket begging for the past to stay I am the advocate of the devils plan Hold my hand I hope that we can play
Luis Ayala Chicago, IL
re-quest by: Rachannis
Unfortunate it is as more often than none we acquaint some others with an expectation in sum once we confirm they are without a disappointment grows within and no longer, no longer on second do we desire to befriend so we search and seek for another to betray uplifting random strangers in passing on the way while those same slackers already live within our walls with steps we built for them having crumbled, designed null one should never set high what could be annihilated by greed unless they have committed comfortable with harboring excessive need
over time it does float all things anchored away desert seeds
post-uâ€™re Resolve Evolve All with direction on no end The epitome is welcomed but never befriendDead on arrival or as common can seem to stall it A caseâ€Śâ€Ś even oddly enough has proved itself coming with dawn Clavier, Salve sayer, mornings in gong Melody minus song Where all of this muster in decision comes from Garner pride. Take stance. You really are.
Medicine By: Will Schmintz
Los Angeles, CA
At this med students' party up Nuuanu The bathroom is crammed With a couple of boys trying out Feminine garb, deftly assisted By a nurse whose eyes say She likes to see men down. Lipstick: purple. Big-looped earrings. Now, into the skirt, Eye makeup later. Check the mirror. In the bedroom, a newly jilted nursie Is taking on all comers. If you can Stand her hate rap and her screaming obscenities, You can have her. Listening to andro rock, Al is Explaining the sorts of voyeur thrills he gets Working weekends at the state mental hospital-How easy it is to steal their thorazine, Qualude and codeine--here, you want some? We must keep on working, after all, for the Greatest possible happiness Of the highest few.
Meditating on a Broken Member By: Will Schmintz
Los Angeles, CA
The phallus has been knocked off Oscar Wilde's monument stone. The half-Assyrian winged gypsy Art-deco once intact assassin Represents the kind of friends You don't want to leave behind To glorify the memory. Pretty Oscar posing in the photographer's studio amongst the pillows Fat Oscar drunk and numbed in the sunlight outside a provincial cafe. You and Dowson flip a coin To see which one has to try the local whore. "First piece of mutton I've tasted in eighteen years," you remarked. What cards. The sycophants appear And do a job to get the body Into consecrated ground. Ouch! The bores. Lasting out your life among theirs What a trial.
By Amy Outland @amypond27 Chicago, IL A Force of Nature An act of God a force of nature a natural disaster water rushing in on me from all sides longing for the privacy and security that home provides wind whips against my face wishing for a place that’s mine fears manifest themselves into: an act of God a force of nature a natural disaster afraid of being alone, of never finding a home struggling to be brave saving the tears for half a year waiting for the day when I can confront my fears without letting anything get me down not fear, not an act of God not a natural disaster because I am a force of nature.
Dauntless By: Amy outland Thoughts diverge, while reading Divergent factionless, homeless, cold, and alone, constant tendency toward tears barely kept at bay. Try to be… strong, courageous, dauntless knowing that in a dystopian world (or even this one) you could’ve been factionless, homeless, cold and alone, But fortunately instead there are… pine trees, presents, food, clothes, hotel rooms, cell phones, TV shows, iPods, Twitter feeds, and Doctor Who tees. Turn your heart to stone, pretend the absence of a room of one’s own doesn’t mean that you are factionless, homeless, cold, and alone. Four walls and a roof won’t fit under a Christmas tree, but it might be all you need to be, strong, courageous, dauntless
Bigger by Gabriel Garcia Fraire
The Battle of Pan by Gilbert Pangelina San Franciso,CA In the forum he was brought, to deliver a speech, so he thought. His colleagues all around, with others who wished to walk those grounds. Controversy he did spark. Words he had written, meant not to offend, spoken to children he thought were men. For on his wall he did place, a plague that read, “Poetry is an exploitation of reality. Being both a beautiful truth and a beautiful lie” In essence poetry has become the ultimate paradox of life” The first verse caught Silo, his nemesis’s eye, and the last two verses’ Silo screamed, “Lie.” When Pan walked out on the forum floor, not one but two podiums stood unadorned. On stage first alone, then walked he, to challenge the throne. Pan being wiser inclined, “I know now what is to be expected. But to this I do, totally reject it. What I have claimed is both simple and truth. This old argument I do not wish to renew.” Silo then addressed the crowd, “He speaks quietly yet writes loud!!! I ask all of you to give him a hand and bring hither what we demand.” The crowd silent, that the pin could be heard. Not a single man with a single word. Then one, his hands did meet and the crowd did follow indiscreet. Pan’s nemesis Silo smiled and spoke, “ Pan we poets do not exploit, we speak of beauty and we speak of pain, but it is not for wealth but soulful gain. Debate with me and show our friends why, your beautiful truth, is not a beautiful lie.” The crowd now grew silent until one shouted out, “We are gathered here now, so to let it come out. Explain once on behalf of your fancy and fame, why what is said, is so rightly claimed.” Pan looked at the crowd stifled, “Very well, but you must now listen closely to what I must tell.” Pan explained, “How could one argue that the poet does not writes what he sees, the bushes the flower, plants and trees, the young lovers, beauty, greatness hard bought. We write what we read, or what we see or hear, but it all starts from life, and not the heart that is clear.” Silo looking at Pan began to laugh and then spat. “Poetry not from the heart, that’s fiction not fact. You mock poetry.” Pan interjected, “I did not say that poetry does not come from the heart, I said it starts with life and is then taken apart. The heart returns
these moments with splendor and love, with laughter and merriment or the coo of a dove. The anger in life is visibly seen, through poets and their poetry, and all of their schemes. Petty the grievances, petty the mistrust, I say the poetry in life, is precious to us. But it is life that we take it from, exploitation perhaps to harsh as the sword, but the actions fit the description, I did not make up the word.” Silo only looked at Pan, with disdain and disgust, the lights in the room dimmed by I thin misty must. “Pan” Silo said in a now dimly lit room, “You and I are both poets, lets settle this score. With a battle of poetry, a battle of words. The winner can make his demand. For I, you must stop with this ridiculous saying “Poetry the paradox to life”, good poets really do not believe what your saying.” Pan feeling this had already gone too far, wondered if he stopped, would it be like stepping in front of a car. Men shouted out from the crowd, “Pan do oblige, let’s find the truth, or reveal the lie.” Pan lowered his head and replied, “I accept, but this minuscule moment, will prove nothing at all, but to appease my comrades I will lower the bar.” Then Silo took to verse, cursing the fame that Pan had received. But Pan spoke clearer words, and his honor perceived. They fought back and forth, with verses such with force. Who had the mastery, it seemed to go back and forth. Pan finished a verse that angered Silo past sane, and blood vessels soon popped in and out of his brain. The light on the stage fell and broke, while the lights above, seemed filtered and choked. The eyes of Silo seemed coated with a thin layer of green. He walked about on the dim lit scene, bitter and troubled revealing his rage. His voice began with a hiss, and then it doubled. Silo scoffed; “Oh, you’re such a big man in your little world But you throw tantrums like a little girl You’re a thin skin snake Your talent and wisdom are fake You’re so reptilous on ice You wouldn’t know wrong from nice Vermin in the sty The pearl from a dead dogs eye A broken rubber band You loose your venom On things you don’t understand. Believing that you can fly On such a despicable lie Oh, You’re such a big man in your little world And you throw tantrums like a little girl” Feeling pleased with this simple verse, Pan left standing, had felt the worst. With clarity Pan now fully understood. Silo had planned for some time, that he must pay the price for daring to state, “Poetry is the Paradox of Life.” A sudden laughter Pan did make, for the childish nature of this debate. Pan the earthen tower could not be shaken, by this simple debate he had taken. Pan re-addressed the crowd. “My thoughts, my dear colleagues, have not been not shaken, but this debate I deem, should have been forsaken.” Pan then chanted in twilit verse; “Twiddle dee deed twiddled dee dum So simple we have become in the dark it has waited From underground I was baited The Master of Meddlesome By another name He is the robber of dignity The bearer of blame He is Mediocrity by no other name.” The room is darkened for a moment or two, then the lights come back, setting renewed. The crowd could see Silo’s angered face, they now saw their act in disgrace. Silo raced over to Pan, “See now I have won, I am the better man, and now you must do, what needs to be done.” Pan smiled and replied, “Nothing did we achieved, but to bring dishonor, where was chivalry?” Silo so angered, a fist and a nose, a second of silence, a trickle of flow. Pan fallen regains his feet, and walks away from the crowd. When from the audience, he hears the last bit of foolishness, spoken out loud. “Pan was that poetry or life, please give it a shout”, Pan smiled and said, “It is poetry, if you passionately write it out. Or, it is just life without the mighty pen, poetry lets it out, and life brings it in.” “What does that mean the crowd began to say”, and Pan with his thought just walked away?
:: Oda Uva :: By: Julianne Henderson SF, CA Consider for one moment the grape: its blood red color-its tough skin-its sinful contents. In love acts between nurture and nature it is conceived like us all and like love, with time and steady consumption, it drowns us in lunacy and ecstasy and stains our lips.
:: Starspeak :: By: Julianne Henderson SF, CA breathe deep and then exhale stir up my dust and make it spin when it aligns it forms a gale to warn all fools who enter in separate ring from inner core since itâ€™s there youâ€™ll find the truth that speaks a language learned before innocence eloped with youth when it feels compelled to sing its song disarms bodies at war who surrender will to gravity and find only Love worth fighting for you be the Sun and signal yes while I circle energy counter to the clock and all the beauty this can manifest makes us forget stars were ever rocks
Madurantakam, here I come Ravi Yellayi Perth, Australia oh boy!! was this week dainty hard barraged all, heaved-ho like a mallard no gripe gainsay naught, for me a first concord past stood of taking all athirst
while work chimes toll bells of double off this holiday marks a comeuppance doff of a birdie, a day made for a no putt sike me roadie, gonna burn rubber off my bike
dips and craters, ruts they were upbraid gone december, govt gets them roads laid gawk at them, orgasmic they are, what patina with a sight of natal august, a de facto czarina
my two-wheel rig, me few z's come the morrow with rafi, and pancham da into gales of windrow 105 km south west, her name is jankavalli thayar my shepherd, be in evidence oh aeri katha ramar
oh girl! You got me there Ravi Yellayi Perth, Australia it all started when she parts her lips, slowly below that blush in her cheeks, she is lovely read it takes only 14 muscles than frown, 43 it comes like a shade not possible to any tree a smile that took away many a man's heart belongs to a girl who knows that its her art god only can guess what runs in her mind and it reaches her eyes, i'm outta my mind more so when she bowed her head slightly take the hair behind her ear, tuck in lightly looking at me, showing her platinum ear rings 'm sure knowing the effect that gesture brings i compliment her on this, and her smile broadens calls me liar, flatterer, all i do is melt smithereens i promise to do this more often, no fear or waiver pat comes another smile, oh girl you got me there
By -Cerebral Being We see ourselves as righteous, outgoing, glowing individuals. We feel our significance bound to our feet as the weight is expected to keep us down to earth. As we grow from youth we grow from our innocence and our immaculate power to view. But I am not afraid to fly. I will remove these weights and float away from the surface of this shadowy rock out into the cosmos where I will find eternal peace. We exist in this life as conduits. We are mere cadavers in use by the force that was and always is. Body, mind, and soul we're on borrowed time; as it is an ancient entity that lives in all of us as individuals and all of us as a whole. Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. You're no more than a blatant charade. Unveil thy wretched face and show me what is truth and what is fake. We exist as oddities. We exist as enigmas and anomalies. Under the Sun we are all one Fear not the view, my friend, for I am just like you.
THE LIGHT TREZAHN GRACE HOUSTON,TX
The darkness Engulfs you like dinner As if swallowed by a giant your pupils become defiant They try to adjust But it as if you were luggage on a bus Blind folded by your lover burried in a hole forced to suffer Your breathing is calm Your ears tingle The sound of a pen hitting the floor hits your ears like a napalm You close your eyes To think of a jingle To distract the mind But that makes it darker The darkness Makes you weary wipe the eyes as if they were teary the darkness Is feared It is what one does not Come near The darkness Put those to rest It taketh tho that let But the darkness Is afraid of what shines What takes the night As the night does to you by: Victoria Da Cruz Summer is when I miss you the most; our hearts burned heat like flames six feet tall. We were wild and young. We were insane and dumb. I miss the way we danced in the moonlight, your warmth caressed all around me. Your eyes glistened like the sun, and I followed you around because I couldn’t get enough. Our summer secrete. The late night swims, you’d always catch me when I thought I’d drown. The late night drives, when the need for speed thrilled our minds. I miss the way you would look at me, all those moments I swear this universe paused. Even in silence, your presence filled me.
When our eyes met, there was a spark in the ignition. That something between you and me, was more than simple chemistry. Our hearts stayed guarded against the fire we started, but our skin easily melted. When our minds were gone, the heat from your palms reassured me. As the time flew by, that smile I canâ€™t resist, took away all worries. I miss the way you stayed so strong. You never changed even when your guard was flaking. You made me tough and wise; you changed my whole mind set. But now that summer is over, your buried six feet under, and that strength you once gave me, is slowly breaking. Without your heat, my soul is freezing. Without you here, Iâ€™m self-destructing. Without our flame, my whole is turning into nothing.
Brian Zerbel #beatscostmoney Photo by Jam1 www.soundcloud.com/beatscostmoney
"When we finally arise awake" By: Source
White Plains, NY
Musical Accompaniment: http://youtu.be/P9TveAvLqQE Man is born told to listen, from the first day of his existence. Oppressors pressin' the resistance tryna pack us in prisons. Paper makes the world burn slow like incense. Chemicals in the oxygen got my lungs feelin' intense, ways of love found up in my writ-tens. Mind rippin' through thought patterns gave up things that I thought mattered. Opened my eye realized better off tattered, society slaves tryna climb ladders. My reality consists of living with much laughter cause when I leave this body, who gives a fuck after? Life's a bitch? Well I bust that bitch open like a dutch master. War for profit greed stricken smiles as blood splatters, die young live faster? Small faction in power causing big disasters but we don't see it cuz corporations plaster the truth with lies. It's clear as day through my human eyes that scrutinize those that bring crude demise. Contemplating with my soul, body, mind, asking who is I? Someone who remains true as sky. Let out a revolution cry & shout "It's time to rise!" When we finally arise awake, maybe then we'll see the world is at stake. Maybe then we'll hear the Earth's heartache, before it disappears just remember it's our fate..just remember it's our fate.
By shashi Bronx, NY I've covered my face with covers of Egyptian cotton so sweet and slick I lick on your lips adopting, your taste replacing your waste with naked shadows just watching ,while in the dark our body parts just rotten captivating agony I've ask to be forgotten and then you asked for me to become immune to something I'm not use to so I've made my muse "you"I've collide pride with being alive and still inside apart of me died waiting for two drives to speed through the distance is like trying to hear silence but don't really listen pay attention,to the quiet when your alone to the eyes that slowly roam to adapt what you call home in your skin into your bones there dictating what we've become ,self consciously its haunting me until I get numb I've allowed you to be something that can't be named I'm estranged to the way we can't be tamed I had left stains, when I covered my face with covers of Egyptian cotton and there I lay while your fragrance play and ask to be forgotten
Lady Baby Girl. By Jason king Before she goes to bed she’s far from rank n’ file But when she wakes up she the Queen of the Nile she’s my lady First time I met her, I was angry she was high same results, different method, hardly a line of jive she’s my girl I texted her weak from sadness, weeks too late she hit me back at exact same cot-dayum rate she’s my baby 1st date she felt me out, i replied in kind my presentation was so nervous, but she dug the overall design She’s my lady Happy with a kiss and simply not being an ass She’s takes it up a notch, says this feels like falling too fast she’ my baby The week goes by and half the days she’s in it Don’t know if this is love, but feels like the beginning she’s mah girl She comes to see me sing and everyone is shocked He didn’t have much sense, now look at what he’s got She’s mah lady The performance is over, but the show is just beginning She wants to go back to the crib, for a few extra innings She’s my girl The cabman wants to hack off all our arms and legs She proposes the thought, we should catch the metered cab instead she’s my lady We make the house a home before we sleep, and one time after She snores loudly in my arms, we’ll have to replace the rafters She’s my baby Momma’s not keen on me bringing home guests But I introduce the woman to where my heart invests She’s my Lady. Time for goodbyes, see ya laters, embraces and hugs My lips don’t say much, but my eyes bleed love She’s my lady baby girl. Train’s pulling off and I hope for a glimpse. For the beautiful lady who sees the prince in this chimp. ahh yess.There goes my lady, my baby, my girl.
Enchanted Dan Fenton Atlanta GA The moon peaked over the mountain ridge and scattered the stars from the night, and swallowed the ones that didn't give way to its imminent path of flight. A velvet blanket enveloped the skies adorned with millions of stars, like diamonds that twinkled a loving hello and then a loving goodnight. They seemed to assure me that as I did sleep, throughout this enchanted night; that they would be standing to guard over me, so "sleep easily, sleep deeply, sleep tight. The song of a cricket was cast to the wind and carried away by a breeze. The cottonwood leaves danced in the trees and they shimmered reflecting the light. The light of the moon and the stars from on high shown down on the face of the earth and then I felt blessed to see such a thing, when the moon made love to the earth.
â€œBBoy Moksâ€? Vanessa Bly Photography
National Poetry Month Tribute www.prevailnprosper.com @prevailnprosper #prevailnprosper facebook.com/prevailnprosper