H O L D  M E  D O W N…….
Nessa shrugged, “Whose laughing.”

Bling Carter lowered his gaze and sighed. In his entire reign he had never employed a woman to do a mans job, but his choices were limited. The loyal ones had dispersed and the flakes had abandoned ship. Everything around him was crumbling except the pretty thing standing before him. There was something about her eyes that bore into his soul like she had seen him before and it made him nervous.

Since Ashely had taken her under her wing a tiny seed of curiosity grew everytime he was in her presence. In a million years he would never intend to cheat on Ashley, only  Nessa was an intention he could not resist.
Pulling up his pants he sat back on the desk and folded his hands across his lap.

“You really trying to do this now!”

Nessa smirked before turning on her heels towards the door.

“Where you going?”

Nessa contained her laughter before retracting her steps.

“You know I don’t play games Bling. Let’s stop pretending.”

“Thats not the point, if Ashley finds out about this she will kill me!”

“What Ashely don’t know wont kill her, besides you know and I know I only work for the best” Nessa purred. “Weasle desrves it, he took out your bonafide and tried to kill you and for what?”

Blings body tensed and Nessa knew she hit a nerve. Everything she had done was leading up to this moment.

Dropping the stack of notes on the table Bling relented. Even in his doubt, Killer had vouched for her reliability and Ashley stood by her loyalty.

“When you do this you got to disappear, Weasles guys will be coming for everybody.”

Taking the pile with ease Nessa smiled.

“No problem Man.”

Slipping her concealed weapon from her sleeve she aimed and fired. Slumping forward Bling bled out onto the oak pine floor. Shaking her head Nessa wiped the tiny speckled of blood splatter off her face and grinned wickedly.

“There was a lesson here Bling too bad you didn’t stay in school.”

Tucking the notes carefully into her bag Nessa stepped out of the office and halted at the sight of the devil.

“I can explain.” She mumbled as the laser beam danced accurately across her forehead.

“You don’t think I would figure it out, huh, all them times man was fucking you the whole time you had your own plans.”

Swallowing the bile in her throat Nessa thought careful before she spoke.

“Saint, I speared you for a reason.”

Shaking his head Saint took a step closer.

“You didn’t so shit for me.” His hand shook as he yelled angrily. ” I’m the last man standing that puts a target on my back and you know it too.”

“I told you to come with me.” Nessa replied. “Your loyalty to Bling could have had to killed a long time ago but I choose to save you. We can make it together you dont need this.”

Nessa smiled at the memory of their time together and sighed. The vow to never reveal her identity was about to be broken and the love they had may be lost forever.

Saint tutted “Mans from the hood what the fuck can I do on a farm. This right here is my life and you wont steal it from me.” Steadying his hand he closed his eyes.


The whisper of her brothers name brought gasp from Saints lips as his eyes sprung open and his face drained of blood. Clutching the shaking gun Saint tried to block out the thunderous heart beat in his cranium. Sinner was dead. Ten years ago he had lost his best friend, a man he would never forget. The mere mention of his name made his blood run cold. Scowling he maintained focus on the target.

“What did you say.” He spat

Her voice barely a whisper Nessa uttered a mantra he had buried deep in his chest.

“The Sinner can only be saved by the Saint.”

Saint shook his head. “Who told you that?” He scolded.

Nessa curled her lips slightly as she saw her brother standing beside Saint as if he was still alive.

“You did when I was seven years old saying goodbye to by brother.”

Saints arm fell, his stomach content whirling wildly as he stared at the woman he knew internally. They had shared a bed, he had explored her in ways a man could only explore a woman.

“Your lying! Someone told you that story and your trying to confuse me!” Saint replied.

“Saint, I never lied to you not even when I said I love you!”

“Fuck love this is about survival and I’m a survivor.”

© W O R D B E R R Y


He stood at the patio door and watched her move the leaves away from the root of her tree. The way her back bent ever so slightly and her hands danced across the leaves evoked his memories. Sometimes she had been withered and badly beaten by the rains but never once did she complain. Standing tall in the summer sun she would clutch her petals and bloom again. Smiling he observed as she walked towards him an old twinkle in her eye. It amazed him that while the tide of nature slowly approached and their final winter was almost due he still looked at her as a fresh summers bloom. .
© W O R D B E R R Y



Waiting patiently she rose from the bed slowly. She had never seen anything like it. The sheets felt like satin and even the carpet felt like it had several more layers than the one in her own home. Last night she had no time to admire her surroundings, but in the morning light she had woken in paridise. Careful not to make a sound she padded across the floor and opened the door slowly. The sound of footsteps propelled her back to bed as if she had never moved. He entered with a smile on his face and a tray in hand. Steam rise from the mugs of sweetness he carried carefully.

“Morning Sweetness.” She stirred slowly before opening her eyes.
“I thought you might like this.”
Offering her a steaming mug before placing the tray on the side table.
Settling on the side of the bed he picked up the other and brought the heat to his lips.
“Are you going to say something!”
She looked at him with welcoming eyes and smiled. “I cannot believe this is real!” She gushed.
“Does it matter.” She looked at him quizzically before placing the mug back on the tray.

“What do you mean!”
“Will you love me for richer or poorer, is gold all you see.”
Glasping his face with her palms she pulled him close.
“Nothing, I mean nothing will stop me from loving you!”
He searched her face for lie before placing his lips on her own.
“Thats perfect because I’m not who I said I was. ” her arms dropped from his shoulders her lip quivered and her eyes squinted. “My name is Lord Harrison the third.”
“I lied.”
“I get that.” She snapped.
“Your upset.”
“Are you serious!”
“Most girls would be happy.”
Slipping off the bed she grabbed her skirt off the chair and stepped inside its circumference before shuffling the latex material upwards.
“I’m not most girl’s. Why would you lie any way. Who wants to claim the hood when they got all this.” She yelled.

“This isn’t me, I was born into this life. Your what I choose!”
“So your gonna move in with me, my mum , my gran and my brother’s.”
He looked away ashamed.
“Exactly. So Lord whatever the fuck uour name is go find you a Lady and stay our of the hoid where real bitches live.”
“Real bitch. Your as fake as me, uni classes at night hood rat by day.”
She crossed the room in a split second and slapped him so hard his eyes watered. “Dont you ever speak to me again.”
” What you gonna do? Shank me!”
Her lip trembled, tears rolled from her eyes and a pain exploded inside his chest.
“Stay in your lane Rich boy and I will stay in mine.”


Dripping wet with the scent of Christmas turkey and Malt Wine washed and rinsed from her pores she draped the robe over her nakedness. Christmas was finally over, her shoulders had finally relaxed and her feet had stopped throbbing.
An hour ago she was on the verge of committing a bloodly crime after the festive litter debacle. Before long the sound of silence prevailed, peace resumed within her household and the cake was calling her name. .
Slowly she padded down the stairs careful to miss the creaky step two from the bottom. Passing the front room her eyes danced at the sight of flowers and cake center stage on the table. .
In forty five minutes the clock would strike and another year would be added onto her life, the idea of aging scared her. Only one thing colud ease her birthday nerves, but she couldn’t; could she? .
Pulling the stool from under the counter she sat down and admired the cake embleshed with her age. “Forty never looked so good.”
Looking up at her husband she grinned. ” Come to bed.” He requested. “I can’t sleep. ” she replied with honesty.
Trailing her finger around the circumference of the base she heard the clatter of cultery. Knife in hand Jordan slit the seal and slide the cake from the box with ease. .
“We Shouldn’t!” She protested weakly already savouring the taste of chocolate on her lips.
“Hand it over.”
She looked away quickly , hiding her rosy cheeks in the shadows as she tried to hide the evidence. The metal clanking on the floor brought a loud chuckle from his lips that wouldn’t stop.
“Whats going on?” A sleepy Renee quizzed her 8 year old curisoity written all over her face.
Junior was right behind her his eyes bright like he had slept all night instead of and hour. “Pull up a seat Kids Mum needs to feed to Cake Monster.
Rubbing her swollen belly she giggled. ” Don’t worry baby you will be here soon to defend yourself.”


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T H R O U G H T H E W O O D S .

The trees and shrubbery surrounds my soul;
Through the woods I go.
Each uncertain step leading me to my goal,
Where beyond the forrest my future unfolds;
As I trail the written path that leads to my throne.
© W O R D B E R R Y
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What does it mean to be Black and British?


Where do I belong
Amist questions of “where are you from?”
The strange stares
Fingers in my hair
Its all long!
I have the answers
Not one they want to hear
If this woman dont take her hand out of my rass hair.
Shes waiting now
For a clear answer
Im looking at her like prancer
With a big red nose and antlers on her head
Thinking why didn’t I stay in bed.
I remain PC and said
Like I was well bred
“No, I mean what part of Africa you from?”
Now Im pissed off.
“We are not all African Miss although I can insist my forefathers were stolen from there. But like I said I was born here.!”
She wasn’t satifised she wanted more
Picking at my scab and making it sore.
She could never undstand the cultural battering
The earth shattering
Divide from roots
So I proceed to tell her the truth.
“I was born in this country it is my home
And that alone
My Lineage from another zone
A place I cannot call home
There I am a foriegner
A stranger in effect
It’s this I do not get
You want me to say I’m from the tropics when im not
Auld aung high
Is all I got
My culture stripped
By masters of slaves
My african history taken to the grave
My jamaican heritage null and void will migration
The was my stop british foundation”
With my british best accent I turn and say.
“Now have a good day, Mrs Kolwoslki.”
“I didn’t mean to be nosy.” she said her cheeks all rosy
By now I don’t care
I’m ready to dissapear
After I’ve just stripped my lack of culture bare
Checking if anyone esle could hear
Displacement lives here!

Back In The Day

As a youngster it was always a sore point of conversation to ask me about my heritage. Due to the tone of my skin it was alwasys assumed I was mixed raced or from some foriegn land. I was quite happy being black but I was shifted across barriers according to peoples perceptions of race and cultural ideologies. Identity is a crucial part of the teen years without it there is room for confusion and a permenant displacment within society.

It is import to educate your children and yourself about your family history and the path walked to get to you to this point.

Never forget your history and be proud of your heritage.

Spread culture as much as love..



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#blackwoman #wordsofcolour #womenofcolour #urbanliterature #spokenword #jamaica #african


Obscured from View

Void of you

Free of binds that once confined me

Disappearing, disguised within the shrubbery

You will never find another me.




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The art of loving ones self has become harder. The high gloss images and lack of real representations has long since been a discussion, however, where is the change. It is important to analyse ones self when looking for validation in others. There is no better opinion than yours.

Some one once told me that opinions are like arseholes which I am inclined to believe. However, it’s important to understand that their opinions does not define me. Taking time to focus on your inner aura and your outer being is essential to your own validation.