Poetry Collection: Cursed By Inspiration

Here I present my first draft of 41 Poems in a collection i’ve gathered together called “Cursed by Inspiration” titled after the poem below I felt represented the entirety of the spirit and complexity of this collection. Here I experimented with different poetic elements to bring out something new. 

This collection i hope is the first of many but still needs to be edited, re-written and more needs to be added. It is a rough draft and as always your feedback are greatly welcomed. What spoke to you? What 3-4 themes stood out? What poems do you feel go closely together? Any out of place? Send your thoughts to fabrice.j.guerrier@gmail.com.

I chose this feature image – “A painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat – Tenor, 1985 – Acrylic, Oilstick and paper collage on canvas”..as for me represents the dilemma of the artist living in the 21st century trying to find him or herself, living in a fragmented world, fragmented whole selves and personal. As the artist and overall every human being goes about his or her life looking to take flight towards the unknown, towards his or her dreams, towards the more meaningful things he or she is being called to. He or she is surrounded by nihilism and held captive by grotesque realities, the absurd, horrors of society and his conditions wether internal, social, cultural or political. How does one find freedom in such world? How does one find beauty and more meaning in such grotesque of a world that can do so so so much better than it is today? What are the stories we have been told to believe in? My hope in this collection is to help whoever reads it to wrestle more with a truth, find discernment and ask the right questions that can make space for more meaning in such the quest that is life. 



she wore the universe all over herself,

her curved body, her ways, her tunes tightly confined sharpness towards beauty,

her walk moving rhythmically,

she wore the universe all over her body unapologetically, 

it shined a thousands stars,

her smile lights years of joy.


 i am a soul traveller, yes a soul that has travelled for eons, a soul traveler like so many of this world, this earth, planet, trees, oceans, dirt,

grain sands of time in this fleeting vast cosmos. I am a soul traveller connected with everything imaginable, real and unreal, dreamt or nightmare.

i am a soul traveller arrived at earth, condensed gravity filled, atoms and particles, bones and meat, a mind to think and direct, a heart to feel deeply and connect,

a soul traveling lost at sea to wonder, oh this earth like boxes and borders that tries to contain, contain, contain, so much of the vastness that once was me.

i don’t remember anymore, no more, only walls and silos, rational logical minds, shapes and circles and squares, that gives me meaning to the meaningless of my entire life,

this moment of a lifetime that gives me fright and laughter, joys and pain,yes I am a soul traveller, oh this journey of the soul now on this earth lost at sea,

full of joy, full of pain, contained in boxes and shapes, shapes of this single moment,snap shots of many many lifetimes, lost at sea in it for the journey.



Celestial forces that are so hidden so,

so powerful they move cosmic planetary bodies around the sky

in between the stars,

celestial forces me carrying hidden laws and bodies, that existed before me,

facing, transforming, changing, moving me and why



the play, the joy, the fun of it all, why so much here reminds me of me, the children I use to be,


yet greatly so encompassing its curiosity emboldens me, entices me with all this joy this play, this joy and all this fun,

she hoped around this world in front of me, bounced through life and her radiant laughter and her gigantic sun inside of her,

her life held down in a small body, yet her spirit leaking like radioactive cosmos so grand, so grand, her spirit so grand and vast,

her spirit, a flame, only a flame that has shaped the entire world that fills the rivers of life

the sky with planes and galaxies, our inner house with meaning and awe, paintings and fragrance

feeding our hearts pulsing with hunger to feel and connect and give flight and ignite limitless of all our dreams,

so play the joy and the tunes of it, all you are still the children that can dream of it all



we have met the enemy and he is us,

our lies, our judgments, our vices,

our ways with strangers, our hatred for the other,

yes, the enemy was us all along,

the frictions of thought, of bitter frowns and fake smiles,

the enemy is us, never the other, until we take upon and within ourselves,

our joy, our humanity, the goodness of the divine that pervades in each of us,

the deep rivers that streams our love,

until we climb out of the shadows of this sometime hideous and ugly world,

full of lies, lies, lies, the enemy is us and we have met him,

the righteousness we hold on so fiercely,

the rightness of our beliefs and our words,

the truth to which we hang onto, the truth we attach our entire lives,

narrate our stories and our own histories.

decide now whom you are going to be today,

cause we have met the enemy and he is us.




Magic and confidence flows always when I know nothing swirling swirling inside of me. When I let go entirely of the ego’s minds and universes. the traps set by these 

worlds slowly begins to lift away as a sleeping sunset rising in my inward horizon, the mirrors and lies, the labyrinth of rationalism, the mazes, all the puzzles and wishes, the fear that,

crawls, the lost that shadows, the anger, the hate that burns, the joy that sings and rings tunes of the divine, the love that deepens our meaning, the sadness that floods,

the anguish and discomfort that seeps, the lust below erupting volcanic ashes that clouds, the fame that embellishes, the nihilism that destroys and shatters these worlds,

that shatters the cave, when I let go of it all except nothingness, I know everything, all mental states, everything that I am, everything that you are, I feel its flow in me,

deep in me I feel its faith as my resolve, death as my reward to be reborn always in the moments mind. Metamorphosis. Growing magic continues to flows like a fountain,

whatever I know to be possible is I, it’s here, it’s us together, it’s there, a quantum seed born always, a rain forest thriving deeply within me, it is I,

my surroundings a large web, connected large strings, quarks and elemental particles and eternity in my hands, infinite timelines swirling swirling around the tip of my fingers,

space and time I heed your call, I force the hand of chance, I move mountains, I shape the universe around me, as I feel it I empty myself, I begin to know, I begin to live.



i get to the Promised Land, I always get to this Promised Land,

always, always and forever, since the day I was born.

superficially its always this endless cycle, be wary of this perpetual wanting,

always seeing what else there is, out beyond the horizons of our lives, of our missed

dreams, never settling for what we have, what we have now around us, in this very

moment. Oh this promised land brings always this tyrannical journey, walking,

seeking, seeking riches, the golden riches of the world, seeking comfort, seeking

superficial things, intangible things, intangibles worlds of this earth, clouding,

fogging the minds and our essential gratitude. Open your eyes, open your mind and

see, open your heart and feel, you are this Promised Land! Yes! This body of yours,

millions upon millions of years of causes and cosmic effects had to occur for you to

live now, stars had to collapse, stars had to align, moments of friendship, of despair,

of sadness and inspiration had to spark for you to feel and hear these words, to

breath this air, for your heart to beat,

rejoice, rejoice now and search no more outside of you, out beyond the wonderlands

of oblivion, search within yourself.

For the treasures of your inner world is for yours for the taking

and for you to give to this world in full.


your life like the sun will continue to dawn and sunset. Like the seasons it will continue to change and shed the very layers of you. Like the ocean tides you will continue to rise and fall as your moon becomes full and your moon becomes new. Like the earth, your life will continue to spin on its axis. So anchor yourself, anchor your dreams and your values, only through them can you bring the world to a stand still and find the years in the day and the months in the week.



Blackness, black body goddess dancing,

moving the steps of history

shaking the ground

shaking the life and magic endowed

blackness, black body dancing goddess

you are beautiful


War, an explosion of pain, a lack of dignity, human nature wrestling with its worst being, swarms and swims, evil is here, it resides in our pulsing hearts, I hear your sensibility,

like a spaceship about to embark to a new solar system, you too seek to expand, to fly away, to an unknown space of deep suffering, you inflict despair to my soul, you always put me down,

you always erase my happiness, my joy for life. You, yes you, war of minds, war of hate, war of arms and nuclear weapons of the absurd, war of pushed democracies and moral decay,

war against my skin color and black body, war on the streets, war of culture, war on my faith, the war on drugs, war of white supremacy, haven’t you fought long enough to destroy me,

for centuries upon centuries you have reduced me to ashes, called me primitive, all these wars, why are you raging our minds, why do you tie me down, hold me captive to oblivion, why do you crush and

sacrifice my virtues for something unknown, an unknown beast, always vicious and blood thirsty. I need hope, I need love, I need joy, I need care, I need rest, I need peace,

I need a moral imagination to uncover truth, to seek a future, one that sees contradictions of me living away from you, of my blackness,

my existence, why does this all feel like a dream, feel like an horizon far far away, war why does your life force feed my soul,

why is this the only thing I have ever known, the struggles, the pains, this sickness, this disease eating us alive, where you taking me and why are you eroding our lives away.



Even racists can love, yes you heard me right, they can love their wives and families, they can enjoy the passions of life, the thrill of victories, they can even cry for their losses, and even shed tears of laughers with friends. Yes, even racists can sing of joy, can clap loudly and praise to the God almighty. Yes, even racists can feel the universe flowing deeply through them, gushing out happiness as they hold for the first time their newly born child. Yes, even racists can crawl in fear, can be angered to defend rightfully so their dignity, their human rights, their freedoms of speech, their rights to bear arms and their love for their community. Yes, even racists can befriend you, can hold you dearly, can shape memories and lifelong bonds with you, can feel your world, your pains, your history and struggles. Yes, even racists can smile with you, can look at you directly in the eyes and agree with what you say. Yes even racists can love.


I screamed, screamed, screamed,

screamed, screamed, screamed,

screamed, screamed, screamed at god and the world!

why did they kill my black child?



She could be my mother, I passed by her black body and her round figure, out in the cold, she could my mother as she extends out her arms in pain, extends her wishes,

for bread, for food, for recognition of her soul that had been cast out to live on the streets, homeless she was, she stood there with her crying face, her swings and

waves of begging, begging, begging for a chance. She could our mothers, all of those that gave birth to us, all of us, to our universe, our world upon worlds of history,

our dreams as she screamed more pain to push us out from the comfort of her cosmic womb, from the blind world submerged, feeding, feeding, consumers,

just like today, oblivious of our actions, She could our mothers, why society, why must you cast her out to live on the street, homeless she was,

Why have we abandoned her? For all that she did for us?



Microaggressions, deadly stings and deathly poisonous bites. They are everywhere and all over my body and my conscious sight. I cannot escape them, from well meaning people and well meaning friends.

You splurged out the word Nigger effortlessly as if you thought I would consume it like another meal. You splurged out that world effortlessly as if you discounted your white ancestors that owned and justified to the selling of people with bodies like mine.

You splurged out the word Nigger effortlessly as if you forgot your black ancestors who lost their lives, crushed like a sardines, sleeping in their fecal matter, like animals transported on old brown ships across the waves of the Atlantic absurd.

You talked about my black, brown and red brothers and sisters as if they were desolate, stupid and lazy, living on the welfare of a racist state. Welfare no, Racist yes and living on a social serum drowning, scapegoating, forgetting the conquest and murders of the past that started it all.

The conquest of our love, our shared humanity, the conquest of our minds that divided us from me to you, from our neighbors and to each other.

Microaggressions, deadly stings and deathly poisonous bites. They are everywhere and all over my body and my conscious sight. I cannot escape them. You tell me I am too defensive, too angry and too emotional, that I need to look at this rationally, you tell me that I haven’t processed these centuries long forms of oppressions, these long struggles for freedom. These historical wounds, they cut deep you know?

You and your blind self are numb, numb in your heart, in constant denial. Afraid, just like me, yet we are bounded together, forever, you are part of this story too and will be to the times history ceases to be.

Microaggressions, deadly stings and deathly poisonous bites. I must escape them, I must rebel, it is the only way, to work infinitely more, harder than the others in school, in my careers and for me dreams, I have to be infinitely stronger to carry the memory of those who lost their lives for me. I am the dream of their futures.



Tell time to move, let it go, let it move along, stop holding, you are far far ahead of your kind and time, let your mind be the vessel of the future and the timeless, let your mind unravel the greatest times and timelines that are yet to come, the future end of tomorrow, the shattering of myths that covers life that all mankind so numb, so sad living always in disarray disconnected


I saw the dancing leaves among the shadows that day, the sky was bluest as it could become, the leaves shined and rained down joys as the wind past by

with its dreamy reveries, the wooden trunks stood still, the squirrel swirled with life, the rings and hymns sounded like bells,

nature had smiled back at me,it had spoken through it’s sense, coalescing joy, a Painting never ending, my eyes melting at the sight of its beauty,

melting for the reckoning had come, it’s distant soothing musical blues perched like the ocean, with no ends in sight, pure joy nature it was, pure joy nature it was.



They made us build society

that turned out to be our cage




why, why, why so small, so removed, living lives in a cultural space, the interweb, our identifies changing, our neural patterns perceiving differently than things that

have come to our past, the perennial truth, the singularity, what is the point of it all in this changing world? if we are set to repeat the same atrocities, mistakes, egoism,

poverty, poverty of our values, the decay of our higher impulses, what is the point of it all, why do we live so gradually slow, unable to move and shake the very

foundations of our social neural linguistic walls and emancipate ourselves. the small birth of a child, innocence so precious, tainted by the blindness of an unhealed past,

intergenerational wounds, seeking housing in the heart of men, such feeble creatures we are, such frail beings, yet we are endowing ourselves with the status of

sentiency, an inherent struggle to hold unto our sanity, our madness, our insanity for things we can almost never achieve or become, perfectibility we cannot reach, if we

don’t allow ourselves to fully descend down, deep down in middle earth where our imperfections, our beastly animalistic impulses drive the very systems that have

taken a life of its own, rendering us inept to the metamorphosis that have been foretold forever, the cataclysmic changes we are made to experience always.




Everything fell, felt, failed according to plan, every ounce of movement, every ounce of chaos, everything according to plan, like it was originally set, it fell into place, moments of chance.



you are a phenomenal women,

gratefully so, ecstatically, a fiery sunny ball of love,

fiery drums with a sureness that dances,

always dances, which carries and feels my entire world,

you shine so brightly through the genius your heart carries

you are a phenomenal women from a long line of angels and goddesses,

high priestess, you are a phenomenal women,

everything you touch turns into gold,

your curves, your body gyrates my being, my soul to geometry,

your smile carries me away, takes me now,

a voyage into the corners of my darkest being,

places I dare not to enter alone.

you are a phenomenal women, where have you come from?

but out of this world your spirit is forged

from the heavenly realms, your touch heals,

your laughter’s contagious, with fires to my fears.



Isn’t it absurd, out of the ordinary, we were all once hot lava, suns exploding, forming, shaping, floating in space, deep out there for millennia, yet the world

insists of dividing those that look like me, the world insists of lighting the skin, the minds, the ways, the traditions of people that look like me, blacks, yes black people, 

colored people, negroes, yes the same ones that have been shipped on boats, shipped on 3X5 feet compartments, three fifth of a human, chained up like the monster in

your children’s story book, can you believe it? These people are not the third world, I am not the third world, I am a men, endowed with freedom, endowed with the

greatest power there as ever been, to love. to feel. to think. to create. to shape this

universe. Goddammit. these goddamn lies, all of these lines, these borders of empty spaces, oxygen, hydrogen, carbon,

aren’t we all these elements tightly bonded together? Aren’t we all, why do things go this way? Why do they have to go this way.


I am in the spaceship called earth, my heart large as a compass, connected magnets, vortexes, of meaning, of love, sometimes reeling itself, twisting on its axis, fast,

dancing sediments of layers placed together of lives past, from a convolution of thoughts, of matter, existing, creating, collapsing, coalescing patterns, moving,

changing, transforming purple shades of gray skies sunsets, of laughers and sequences of cosmic travels of all beings that once dominated this planet, those that

now live deep within me, deeply within my genetic make up. I am the spaceship called earth, the gravity of my life is the seeking of my truth, I am one with the

world, all who lives with me, all who co-creates this reality through enthralled ecstatic ecstasies, all who pushes limits,

pushes monolithic boundaries, boxes and glass bottles that entraps and oppresses world,

for I am one with the dirt below, one with the skies above and the ancient sun that warms my heart and animates my spirit.



why do we grow old and just wither away?

why does life exist, full of joy and ecstasies,

to wrinkle and coffin sleep.

are friends the only mattered things,

connections and bonds, laughters, closeness and

purpose, yet why do we grow old and just wither away?



I walked among the future’s end

Of an impoverished people dancing full

Their resilience, their sweat, their blood and their tears

This country’s precious golden grains

To rise over and rise again

Struck only by disastrous means

An arid flow

A harvest dried and cut from below

Full bellies left to fend alone

Lost lives, grasping to breath

And fill this dirt,

Of black and spoiled vices

Their long lost hopes and deepest dreams




she had the face of a shaman,

the thousands rivers that flowed red,

of entire nations decimated, her face old,

simple and wise, bore the markings of time,

she swept the floor so calmly in this modern age,

where was the outrage, where was the rage,

where was the anger, the anguish of her people,

yet she hid it well, she had the face of a shaman, her eyes humble,

her soul grand and the encompassing care that emanated from her body,

that carried my life, her hair so soft and dark,

her smile so tender and soft,

i sense only so all of her spirit elders and ancestors,

they stood right with her in the room they looked upon all the millennia,

the trials and tribulations, the horrors that befell them,

they looked at me seeing in my world what I carried heavy in my black body,

my youth, my pain, my blackness and eternal being,

and all the forgotten wisdom withheld deep in my blood,

she had the face of a shaman, she smiled back and continued cleaning the room.



this house merged with fields of wild flowers, wall collages that grew fruits, that gave hope to the hopeless parts of myself. this was inside of me, i marched myself,

i saw all the wonders because of you, the secrets of the universe, the timeless wisdom, I was all of this, this lonely house I dared to enter,

you gave me access to my own world, you were this field of wild flowers, blooming unto my life, feeding my soul and my large smile.



waves of time during the day at work and home

like water flowing downward, eternity absolves

you see what I don’t see, just another side of truth,

until you smiled until you moved me out of place to find another.

how to make circles out of squares, and squares out of circles,

that is the mythic quests and stories of our societies.

what is creativity but an explosion of

meaning and meaninglessness.



I am cursed by Inspiration, yes you’ve heard me right, I see too much, I feel too much, know too much of the silence in between my breath for they tell me the truth of this world, a broken broken mirror that was once me, once whole and now broken.

I am cursed by inspiration for when the wind glides on my face, I see the timeless particles flowing like me, global weather patterns, jetstreams, I hear the planets moving too fast, thousands miles per hour, twisting, twisting, twisting axis, voyaging across the cosmos and the solar system.

I am cursed by inspiration for the grass green seeping through the cracks of the pavements of which I stand, I see all the possibilities, I see revolution against conformity, I feel all the wonders, I hear the inner battles we must face, those we all go through and must vanquish dragons, all the challenges that has encountered our lives

I see to much, I feel too much, I am cursed by inspirations for the trees speak to me, yes, they speak loudly, standing tall above me, enthralling their magic unto me, for their branches speak of the history of worlds, of mankind itself, genetic traits, mutations and constant transformations, of all life, that every choice that I make births a different timeline, a different world of encounters,

I am cursed by inspiration for this world does not understand and cannot feel the wonders of forever, the wonders of eternity flowing all around them, nor can they smile and know the purpose and meaninglessness that permeates deep in them, not everyone can see, can feel the unseen wisdom, their centers rot, awakened minds  ill and saturated, enthrall in well meaning conformity. At what cost I say? At what cost do we lose ourselves, our grandeur now condemned to walk numb body, never truly seeing the mission in life to see too much, to feel to much and to know too much. I am cursed by inspiration for this journey separates.



rise, rise, rise to the infinite ends,

the beginnings of your life awaits you

when you stop living the story of others

when you start claiming your worth



the old black men in the DC metro was right,

he was right all along, why are we so dead asleep in this society,

alone and away from each other,

when not our stares never meet,

when our respect are closed off,

the old black men in the DC metro was right, with his gray hair  he screamed,

screamed at all of us, us dead weight in the crack

of the morning dawn, sun rising unto us sleepy, coffee addicts deprived,

he was right all along, he was right to awaken us

to the zombies of automation we had so become,

from our hearts that had been closed by the love of power,

closed by a world that valued you and your ego,

your individuality, that made us believe were alone,

that you yourself and no one else mattered.


the future folded
i saw only machines
man asleep



They stopped my car at night

They took me out and my heart raced to the ends of history.


I feared for my life

For my parents who knew I was black, young and a boy out on the streets of life.

And for many in this world, I was a monster to their eyes

A black devil, a demon from Africa, of a story cultured in,

Passed down from an era of white impunity

Living and breathing today, dormant deep in the subconscious mind

I stepped outside during the night

And I saw the officer’s gun, a weapon.

But to them my blackness was the weapon, a sin of being born a Negro

To be put away forever and be purified

I looked upward at the night sky universe and saw the stars

How small I was, how small we were but could not fathom how vast this fear I felt

How profoundly deep it reached, deep within my gut

This was my universe

So many had perished never given the benefit of the doubt

Freddie Gray, Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, could I be next?

Will I become another statistic lost in data?

Lost in the bureaucratic waters of white supremacy?

Will I become another hash tag, universalized?

Washing away my hopes and dreams

My laughers, my favorite shows and favorite foods

This fear, Oh my God!

This fear how vast and unfathomable

Why have you created me of this world?


so many masks,
thick and small,
so many performances



Where are these great societies that we have created, that we have formed with our great laws and our great constitutions. yes, the very same ones of which so many

children continues to suffer. these great societies should be ashamed of the hate that is still held strong by many of their citizens, a hate that is so subtle, a hate that is so

romanticized discussed as paintings, as beautiful art and reflecting mirrors of death horror symbols of the unknown of a continued narrative, a story with a deadly price,

unable to leave to see and feel all its complexities of influences, our own reactions to them, our shared destinies at the most has been strangled taken hold taken over

with surgical precision, a divisive wall build against love, truth and beauty as liberation, aestheticism blown out,

fused out of our day to day existence, our day to day power to shape the universe as we see it, as we change it, transform it lovingly.



why do I feel so guilty when I buy blue jeans, white shirts and black shoes. this twist and turn deep in my gut starts to form, starts to rise from the depth of destruction

and creation. is it knowingly so that I don’t have to have any of it, that it’s very much not of a need, but of a want induced by a world of judgments and dread, induced by

insecurities to look good, to feel good, to belong in a society that values expensive things and well dressed and westernized reveries? Is it to give myself permission to

feel happy? through these meaningless articles of clothing, pieces of matter of empty space and quantum oblivion, all to give myself permission to feel good, to

look good, so people can like me, so I am not pushed out of the in crowds of conformity. Why do I feel so much guilt, so much worries, so much unease waiting in

line, how uncomfortable it is, thinking of my parents, my caribbean immigrants family who worked so hard for me in a world that is so unfair, that my actions is

feeding a rigid system, corrupted with the vices of men, a system built on the back of slaves, continued and unforeseen injustices, the descended souls of this earth, why

do I feel so much guilt and so much dread? Is it so that millions and upon millions of black bodies like mine are in famine, impoverished, struggling somewhere and

soulfully dancing to the beats of their drums, to the pains of this unfair and unequal world while I buy these blue jeans, white shirts and black shoes.



i honor the food, honor the life,

honor the worlds they inhabited,  this fish, chicken and rice

the paths they all crossed and crawled on this earth, the food they consumed,

all the grains, planktons, all the sun and water they drinked,

this fish on my plate, came from a long line of fishes

a thinly threaded connection from the melted lava that was once earth

the suns and the vacuum of space we all once were

i honor them, i honor you and myself, our oneness, 

the air they breathed, the ground they came from,

the hands, the many hands that brought them to now,

the fisherman that fished, the driver that drove it,

the wheels and roads and those who builded them, the chef that cooked it

this table i sit in, full of patterns, i honor it too, the tree it once was

i honor all lives that moved to bring me this moment

the service you render, i honor it all the one

in this moment reborn



before you go out of this life, i want to tell you something that i have never told, something that cleans, that wipes away the tears of your life, the sorrows you’ve felt, the hurt, the hate, the blame, the shame of being black that the world has made you believed, the beauty that is so deeply hidden inside in you, the cosmos the stars, your dark black skin reflecting the beauty of the night

the big bang manifested, i want to tell you that you are loved, deeply so, deeply for the things i never knew, for the ways across time that you carried yourself, for the unprocessed horrors of mankind that always treated you with disgust, that common ground was the way to go, that the layers upon centuries of discrimination, of racism, only deepened our love,

our connections, our paths dancing together,the pathways toward the places that this pain gives us entry into the realms of the beyond of wrong doing and right doing.



civilization beneath the stars, beneath their feat, bending to their wills, hopes and wretched dreams, their soul sucked into the turmoil of a cyberland, ripping and shifting the emotional centers, to love, to learn, to seek humbly their passions and curiosity of where has this broken world gone to? where has its free energy gone?sipping highways, intertwined bundled all together only wanting one thingSomething told, sold, taught to them, their sins, their pride, boosted steroids of a social ego why are we left alone to fender ourselves? god has left us for the heavens, forsaken this sad world so minuscule, yet So rich and grand, despair and joy, happiness fueled of deficit bonds, to doubt alone in the deepest corners of our minds to struggle forever and ever



my grandma is a museum, her life lived across times, across many worlds, moments that will all turn into one, my birth, my grandma the creator of my life, my father, my brothers and moments of care, of immigrants struggles, pressures and more pressures, cries and cracks, rising all from her who gave me life, an existence and an humble beginning



What is this thing we call negritude. These changing worlds and changing hearts. The past so close, too close to our sights, inside of us, we it see no more.

The television screens and all these images hanging too closely to our minds eyes. These images, all of them, the real is lost, black bodies are now things to be shot.

Blacks bodies things to be shot with a single story, to be caged, to be pushed and denied. A reverse racism card, a trump card of privilege oozing off, corroding

morality And our very oceans of life poisoned and polluted, painted over with a single brush. Our bodies, our death and our ashes, a history, washed, always washes

on the shores of hopelessness and the water sheds of truth. Always no justice without peace, I am no longer seeking to understand why this mad world doesn’t

seem to understand itself, so how can I understand madness when my black body is crucified at the popular tree and is the show that so many come to see, to laugh.

too many people have died in their hands, complicit, foolish bystanders, so many people have perish, becoming angels, turning, twisting and transforming phoenixes

of the netherworld, lost, lost, to these images, this taste into the unreal, in our living rooms, in our soups of the timeless, poverty, what does it mean anymore, what does

it mean so far, this saturation of thought, the desperate things born out of the ego of men, the superstitious powers of the lost continent, severed roots, of an historical

nightmare, the men in cages, in jails, these families ripped apart, this cities trashed by a weather  storm of ignorance, a storm of people who just don’t care anymore,

performing their role, we are all performing our roles in this play of life. People who have only ever understood that their words, their actions have no truth, have no

evils, have no ways of changing the very structures that have been rendered fiction in their minds, that these structures, these walls, its sky is full, its sky flies to the

endless of time, the space above the structures, the illusory things that are deemed not possible, injected in the our perception, stuck, stuck, to the ashes, reborn never

in the artistic expression that condenses so much of milky way out of our mother earth, the mother of truth, these bodies cages, these minds lost, so lost to their

conformity, to their burgers, their eternal plates full of sorrows, full of regrets that have not brought to light, things that have touched the very nitrogen bombs

constructed to destroy men, to give him a chance in incarnating the very worst in him, the very worst of his evils and his imperfections, in doing so giving way to the

power that can resist, the power that can uncover so much profoundness from painful truths and painful cries of the horrors in our minds, the fear that had been

injected to push forward a world so bland and dry, deprived of all it’s rich flavors, the richest that have been accumulated over the age, the amnesia of the greatest

pillage, the amnesia of the wealth build on backs, brown and black, of things unknown of a legality made cruel, a legality made unreal, a legality studied, praised,

a degree of sanity of the insane constructions of everything. So bound down, surrender to yourself if you can surrender to everything that hurts, don’t shy away

to the golden jewels of the universe, don’t look back at what had been made within the very household of your soul, see the rooms, the hidden places of your inner

world, the place out beyond right doing and wrong doing, turn it off, turn it back on, for it is the only way. See that your race is against time, that your love for yourself,

your deep care for the wounds you have acquired, the fake bands, the emotional lust for images, for icons and fame, for comfort have broken your own capacity to see

and feel the very entrails of the universe that you are, understand this notion, the black thing on your back, on your eyes and above your head, is something to be love,

just like everyone of else, inject the skepticism that seeks to destroy, the destruction of it all, of yourself, the recreating of your life, the taking upon the hold of the puzzle

pieces. All the weird shapes, the giraffes and monsoon, the vast calamities, your frailties, the power to move mountains, in a world that is destroying you, that is

laying you flat out outside of the reality of the gods. this race this consciousness to be found hidden at the cusp of civilizations end,

the rebirth of the colors lines that have cut through the classes, the schools of thought and the teachers of history,

the hunt that has stopped all races and your curious mind, to feel and love, to ask and questions these images power nations of sanctity.



my name, my world, my name, my ways, my entire lives in two words, me, fabrice guerrier, my expressions me, my footings, my body ego living world, in tune mind, mining me, always me, my name mining meaning, enclave of movement, of welcome of honor and dancing reveries, doorways, gatekeeper from meeting me, my name, my world, mining me, meaningful joys, meaningful train moving so timely so, acting, living, my name my world free seeking, freedom grasping, knowledge reaching sky, the depth of time, of history, of past harms healing my name fighting, my french name wrestling meaning my haitian pasts, living, healing, healing, healing wounds, healing blooming, blooming name, my name, my world, my love, my body, my world spinning joy, taking, crafting, shaping entries, shaping pathways growing my name, deepening, my world, my ways, my life, my entire life held in two single words.



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