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Roots

This is it.  This is the day I've decided I want to transform this hobby into a profession.  They say, "when you know, you know." Who is "they" anyway? For me it's: my lack of sleep from waking up throughout the night to jot down some lyrics, making beats on my phone during lunch breaks, spending my commute to/from work rhyming, my spirit, my soul, my existence.

People ask me why now?  What's the purpose. My answer is pretty simple; because it feels right, right now.  Some people were put here for a single purpose and that's cool. I was meant to explore a multitude of journeys and that's exactly what I plan to do during my short time on this planet. 


I've been writing poetry since I was 5.  My earliest work was a piece on colors; quite the typical subject for a kindergartner.  Apparently I was obsessed with the color orange. According to my mom, there was a period where I'd only eat orange foods and wear orange clothing.  Once I hit preteens, my subject matter focused on my community and the sense I pride I felt in my neighborhood, my friendships, summertime road-trips to Toronto and food.

Like so many cultures, food was a focal point in mine.  


Circa 1991:

Need the Pepperpot and hardo bread

Can't imagine life without those scents 

You runnin home from school for the peanut butter n jelly

I'm runnin up the stairs so I can get bake and saltfish in my belly

Mmm mmmm when I see granny pulling out roti pans

That means I'm just a few hours away from lickin my plate and hands




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