Could this be my anthem?

Ego Trippin' [There May Be A Reason Why] - Nikki Giovanni

I was born in the congo
I walked to the fertile crescent and built
the sphinx
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light
I am bad

I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with allah
I got hot and sent an ice age to europe
to cool my thirst
My oldest daughter is nefertiti
the tears from my birth pains
created the nile
I am a beautiful woman

I gazed on the forest and burned
out the sahara desert
with a packet of goat's meat
and a change of clothes
I crossed it in two hours
I am a gazelle so swift
so swift you can't catch me

For a birthday present when he was three
I gave my son hannibal an elephant
He gave me rome for mother's day
My strength flows ever on

My son noah built new/ark and
I stood proudly at the helm
as we sailed on a soft summer day
I turned myself into myself and was
jesus
men intone my loving name
All praises All praises
I am the one who would save

I sowed diamonds in my back yard
My bowels deliver uranium
the filings from my fingernails are
semi-precious jewels
On a trip north
I caught a cold and blew
My nose giving oil to the arab world
I am so hip even my errors are correct
I sailed west to reach east and had to round off
the earth as I went
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid
across three continents

I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission

I mean...I...can fly
like a bird in the sky...

Bone Black: Part One.

bell hooks and i may be kindred spirits. at least that's what i'd like to think. reading bone black: memories of girlhood makes me think a lot about myself and my journey in life. i dont quite fit in my family just like she didnt when she was younger. there are a lot of parallels there. i'm no bell hooks, she's quite accomplished and definitely a woman to be revered. i only pray that i sprout into someone like her.

the book though, i'm only halfway through but i never ever want to put it down. i want to sit and have a conversation with the woman writing the book as she writes it or i would have liked to be there with her when the specific events happened as they happened reassuring her that i felt the same exact way when my grandmama, who also dips and spits, comes to visit and asks me to bring her spitoon to her and how quickly i also want to be rid of them when she leaves or how my mother's mother used to make us tea cakes and milk and how i also loved those times. but mainly i want to talk to her about how sometimes i, too, feel like i just dont fit.

i want to tell her that i know about hot combs, grease, and that feeling that you've grown up when you can finally get your hair straightened.
i want to tell her that i love to read too and that i wish she'd give me a list of all the best books so i can read what she's read.
i want to tell her that i dont want to get married either. its just not for me.
i want to ask her how she makes her writing read like poetry and if she can tutor me so that i can write just as well as she does or at least say she tutored.
i want to let her know that i think lies are like bombs too but that in my family, my father's not the one that keeps them from exploding.