In Search of a Sisterhood Home: For Sister, Daughter, Friend Erica Garner upon her Homecoming


                                                          Photo from source 360

My home -a salt shaker

crystalized tiny beads stuck in baby holes.

Refusing to savor fully my spirit belly

yearning to hunger no more.

I’ve been homeless and lonely

negative balance in the checking account of

my polluted DNA.

Losing sleep for years

restless in a reservoir of expensive pain.

I’ve eaten greasy food from the shelves of thieves

with a heart-broken in infinite particles.

Leaving feeble quips of iced isolation

bones dry from the musky smell of rejection.

I’ve written pieces of hope and love

But none less of truth,

trembling for days

awaken in dark rooms

tired from holding up the strong sister girl banner.

I am ready to retreat putting my feet in the hammock of resistance

leaving this energy that once gave me glory.

Feeding on the manna of my African-American girl story

in want of restoration

 kind soft love.

Hugging the insides of a blue blackened soul

refusing to continually feud with fools

paving my own path of inner bravery.

Prepared to stake my space in my father’s freedoms safety net.

Curling my skin on top of a fertile mattress where naked soldiers once dreamt and believed.

Relieving the nervous chatter

 voices bleeding words of disdain

 the covers my lover again.

Dam to tired to cry and to fragile to pray

Faithfully deciding that today

I am going to reverently 

Nap away.

Much to heart sick and body beat from fighting the radicalized buffoonery-I finally received my ancestors peace.

Sister is home.


by: I Am Salaam


Ode to the Cold


Ode to the Cold…By: Salaam Green

When your fingers can’t type kept snug, covered by knitted thread

When your body wants to curl inside a cotton cozy blanket stopping air from catching a cold

When your undershirt clade chest curls close to a mug of hot black tea

When your lips remain chaffed from the dryness of the day

When your “lover” hasn’t sent a late night text

These are times that call for warming of one’s self

Habituating into the cave of quiet

Resting your face on the inside of man-made hats

Feeling the breezes of chilled ice snapping its breath in places gone wild

Wishing for warmer days; for first boyfriend’s Letterman jackets, for thick crochet leg warmers

When your fingers are to cold to type and your house has a makeshift fireplace

Burn the papers of spring, summer, and fall

Throwing splinters on last night’s fire

The season of  walking with your hands stuffed in your pockets has begun

Embrace the death noises of winter; crackling of leaves and tiny squirrel beaten acorns heaved at the edge of your feet.


5 Holiday Humdingers… you prepare to go “Home for the Holidays”

‘5 Holiday Humdingers to those who are hell bent on getting all up in your Business’

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Traveling home knowing you will be sitting in the stink of loneliness isn’t fun. If you have done everything to avoid being uncoupled, disconnected, and relationship free this holiday knowing that it may be worse than admitting voting for Donald Trump then pat yourself on the proverbial family time back.

Laughter indeed is the best medicine and not taking yourself to seriously this season may be the trick towards healing the tangled web of unavoidable stressors.

Coping devoid of a partner during a time where cute commercials with lovers exhibiting an unusual amount of ‘PDA’ in ugly sweaters or shopping at some big box store for stuffing versus dressing ingredients solidifies anyone without a significant other is…well less than normal, may be a bit much to contend with.

Not to be too dramatic, I suspect loners will eventually find someone or someone will find them whichever is the more acceptable way of meeting for feminist and progressive types these days. Until then admittedly there are fun solo adventures awaiting, or at least that’s what the internet promises.

If ever one is wishing the holidays away simply because they can’t stomach the feel-good Hallmark movie marathons of princesses finding their prince on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, then fair-weather friends you are not alone.

And that is just that, loners are not alone, there are other kind-hearted well-meaning kindred spirts whose self-esteems per so-called societal norms are hemorrhaging on couches across this nation. Endlessly listening to the never-ending Christmas radio dial beginning after Halloween while choking down reindeer cut-out sugar cookies.

Who doesn’t love a reindeer sugar cookie and paired with some spiced eggnog that’s what a good time is all about? However, it would be nice if that pairing came with a warm body in fuzzy elf socks who enjoyed re-runs of A Charlie Brown Christmas.

When you mother for the one hundredth time asks “Hey found anyone yet” while your Uncle Bob carves the glistening turkey this Thanksgiving, perhaps this year your comeback could be larger-than-life rather than the quiet seething murmured breaths you are known for. Something like, “He is in prison and awaiting parole or you all do know I like girls”.

Otherwise, if these won’t readily work check out five holiday humdingers to shut up the ornery of crowds who are hell bent to get all up in your  business.

  1. “Who brought frozen pumpkin pie”? I did damn it and I’ll eat it all if I want to
  2. This year my carb loading is intentionally for the 5 k I’ll be running…like never
  3. The last time I sat on Santa’s lap his knees weirdly buckled and that rosy check man from the North Pole felt me up-you can’t fool me either I am for sure that was Cousin Ralph.
  4. I hate all of you and yes I’ve gained weight-so what
  5. And lastly, this hoarder house always smells like Aunt Rita’s onion dip, seriously!

And will someone please fill Grandma Jones in …no I will not participate in the selfie Facebook challenge with the senior citizen 2016 championship traveling moon-pie singing quartet…FYI…selfie-sticks are so last year. This is the type of crap that keeps me away for 6 months or more.

Withstanding, there isn’t any bitterness here. No not one iota of holiday disdain, therefore as a grown ass women we can make decisions that are best for us or else fudge the truth about having to work the day after Thanksgiving or on Christmas Eve as to avoid the Turkey day football watching and babysitting of your brother’s angelic kiddos and the Dirty Santa drama that your 80-year-old grand-father swears is the best part of the holidays.

Whichever you choose no judgement from insufferable binge Netflix recording, 1980’s flashback radio station listening, tacky sock giving, “no cook” ready in less than five minutes’ recipe trying, work day loners. We will be sitting in the car with our skinny jeans unfastened after dinner with the A.C. on (recovering from the heat being on hell on the inside). Free yourself….please.


Replaying the best of talk radios home for the holidays special while stuffing our faces with the crusty ends of the last bit of left-over extra cheesy mystery vegan casserole that neighbor Jim’s new fitness guru girlfriend shared-what a-. Just kidding she’s surprisingly very nice in a Jane Fonda let’s get physical perky video type of way.

All while we are left crying into the fancy napkins with tiny embroidered turkeys; mom bought the day after Thanksgiving last year, attempting to cope with the New Year party masquerade balls we probably won’t get an evite to. Who over 40 wants to wear a Spiderman mask with masking tape for a handle while their friends dance around in purple sequin capes anyway?

Oh, and bless it…Valentine’s Day is just around the corner which will require at least one week of the free trial gym membership that tends to show up year after year in that 20-year-old Christmas stocking you made in Mrs. Higgenbowers Kindergarten class.

This will hopefully provide time to warrant some hope of getting asked out; in the meantime, here’s to the jumbo marshmallows in your sugar-free mint mocha cocoa and a healthy pat of real butter on Mrs. Alice from the church home-made yeast rolls.

Remember to be grateful and write what you are most thankful for in a different color crayon than last year as you sit yet again at that makeshift children’s table-tis the season, my single sisters.

P.S. no one will blame you if you decide to dance to Feliz Navidad with a red solo cup full of lime frappe spiked with some dark liquor while drunken relatives do the Macarena, it’s a tradition after all-and of course you are all about keeping up with family gathering rituals! Get it Girl-You’re a Superstar.








Brown Faces

Brown Faces

I am a brown face born to a brown face man and woman. I’ve loved a brown face man. I’ve touched brown faces that drop wet dewy tears that trickle into the grooves of brown face dimples

I’ve read to a brown face boy as he sat in the crook of resting of my resting elbow nestling his brown face into the bosom of my childless chest.

I’ve kissed brown faces with my enslaved lips and locked my eyes across brown foreheads wiping mistrust mixed with sweat.

I’ve listened to brown faces rap and rhyme and feel the flow with the brown face man whose teeth shined underneath the Haitian sun.

I’ve washed the morning sleep off brown faced boys crusted corners.

I’ve greased brown faced boy’s hair with Sulfur 8 oil using Vaseline on their chaffed cheeks-greasing their brown faces for the wintery day.

I’ve spit my own mother nature chap stick rubbing forgiveness across an ashy brown faced ego.

I’ve seen a brown face man become ashamed hiding his brown face in his calloused man hands made of wood and stone.

I’ve stroked the brown face of that man with the dent of my admiration causing His brown face to grace the softness of my brown faces.

I’ve seen a brown face become hot with pride causing His natural state to dim and pale.

I’ve seen, touched, loved and even cried on top of Brown man faces…unready to stay faces and to brown to go faces

Brown faces that tell be brave stories and stay at home stories and I have a dream stories, and will you marry me stories and I’ve been fired stories, and I’ve just lost another baby stories, and I’ve been stopped by the police stories.

Brown faces that have turned Blue, that have been avenged with you aren’t nothing stories. Brown faces dancing to my girl is a bitch stories. Brown faces laying on the side of the sidewalk stories.

Brown faces plastered on the evening news stories. Brown faces streaked with lonely blood spewed down the shame of brown faces.

ADHD, ADD, Bi-polar-nobody never loved me faces, you been told you a bad ass faces

Brown faces prostituted by their uncle faces. Brown faces that throw holler at me dirty dollars at brown faces that slide down a cold pole going home to unknown 4 a.m. brown faces.

Brown faces shaking their head in disgust faces. Brown faces being told you didn’t the promotion faces.

Brown faces that quietly read Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Invisible man, while holding fast to the Queen Bee’s hands faces.

Brown faces being manipulated by Christian preacher’s brown faces, no money faces, I let the lights get cut off faces. Brown faces I’m leaving a brown face for white women faces.

Brown faces not going to vote for either of those faces.

Brown faces smoking dope with other brown faces.

Brown faces I had enough of this shit faces. Brown faces being told and taunted by brown faces. I’m not black enough faces.

Brown faces calling brown faces Nigga brown faces.

Brown faces every brown face faces.

Brown faces saying it isn’t never going to be fair for brown faces.

But it also, be the brown face brother that sits in darkness waiting with a brown face stare for another brown face brother to say hey “Bruh” I do care.





I’m not signing your damn petition,

Where was, your I care, I give a shit pieces of paper when black lives lay slain sprayed with blue guns a blazing?

So, you think you have had it good just you wait and see how this Black girl has had to struggle.

Putting cotton balls in her mouth so she won’t get called a snitch.

Being silent around gray haired men folks while putting their fingers around her waist.

Listening to glass ceiling guards talk about how safety pins mean you are safe.

White women who wear black lipstick leaving kiss marks on the backs of their sister’s necks.

Looking for reasons to serve hot biscuits and gravy to the brown folks who you deem as needy.

Esquire this is my response…

Wait until the waiter refuses to serve you; when your children come home with teeth hanging from the gristle of the past you put in high offices.

Call me the N word and what…yes, it will be returned.

So maybe now you will believe me when I say racism is learned.

It’s alive in the bones of good and nice neighborhood watchers whose shoes trod like pebbles on white sand leaving footprints of degradation wherever they go.

Finally, you will see what it is like to see eternity slip by… privilege by privilege being soiled on the bathroom floor from the back-alley cramps of women not able to voice how much they hurt…have been hurting for over 200 years.

Simply it’s your face being darkly summoned to the dehumanization black looking glass no longer passive observer.

Today you’ve been placed in the witness protection program for minorities, marginalized and the 49% of white women who voted against being Trumped.

Buckle your seatbelts build your bunkers put your life on life support as what’s about to happen next will take what used to be white and right by surprise.

Put aside your ideas of hope and throw on your grave digging boots, putting to rest your lackluster prejudices.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust it’s your dead body being carried to the cemetery of clowns in a rich man’s million-dollar hearse.




My Mantra to the Millennial Woman


20 “THICK” Lessons I would tell my Twenty-year old self…….

Scenario 1: A cute fly girl approached me in the park, you are so pretty I think I’ve seen you a lot and admire your flow, I said thank you, all the while I thought I would love to be her friend; to find out she just wondered if I would be her mentor-all and all not a bad thing.

Scenario 2: A fine bearded black man stopped me right after that exchange (What-get it girl), and I got that fixing to get hollered at look on my face, only to find out he thought I knew that cute fly girl he wanted to know her name. Double ouch….

WOW, now say it backwards WOW!

What do you do when your dreams become tangled… wired up in chasing winds of lost time? Dusted from the cup of driven successes. When you no longer can or care to compete with the fresh faced twenty-year old’s whose dreams seem nearer than yours who attract this world’s manhood…. all while you just want to nap, eat Oreos, and watch hallmark fairytales with no makeup or bra.

TAKE NOTE: I am no expert at 40 only beginning the journey of learning to love all of myself including my younger self.

20 For Twenty Something’s

  1. When you turn 40 you will be happy that you are not 20…yes Lawd! (p.s. I love 20’somethings, just saying)
  2. You are fine both emotionally and in appearance
  3. Love the hell out of yourself-your uniqueness is a gift to the world
  4. Stop trying to hang on to friends and situations that aren’t worth hanging on to-let go
  5. You will survive loneliness; I know now you think you should settle-never settle
  6. Your body is beautiful, all 337 pounds of you- you are not your weight
  7. You are not a victim you have victory in every area of your life
  8. Major in grace and minor in mercy
  9. Show yourself some love girl…. less criticism
  10. You are deserving-all your dreams will come true
  11. You’ve got that Whip Appeal
  12. You are Supersonic
  13. Your real friends will come in all shapes, sizes and diversities-be open
  14. Eat the damn piece of cake it’s your birthday or someone’s somewhere
  15. Dance, Dance, Dance, drop it like’s its hot and flirt it up with that Basketball player trying to holler at you
  16. Ask for what you want, always do this
  17. Be kind to others less competition and comparison and more dreaming and aspiring
  18. Your voice and your words will reach the world-the world will hear from you
  19. Tue Pac is not alive…I know; but his music will live on
  20. You are a renowned acclaimed Poet and Writer…know it, believe it, it is already done (whatever you desire to be)

(*Bonus: This too and everything shall pass it always does…in your favor*)

 I am no longer chasing

I will use the gas of God’s word to re-fuel my tank of dreams and drive this journey

Howbeit unpredictable with 40-year-old ferocity

****Wink, Wink, Men-But still “forealz” can a sister just get a little taste of a whistle a little play is that too much to ask -In Jesus Name, it is written!!! Let the church say Amen, and Amen again.

The Healing Power of Words: Voice your Story 

WRITE NOW: What’s your advice to your 20 something self?

Write to Her: What gift would your older self give your younger self or vice versa?…..Write all about it. Comment and tell us about it….or add to your journaling practice this theme.


Promoting the Healing Power of Words

Night Time is the Write Time!

Write to Rest



Happenstance or as a result of slowing down great ideas either come in the shower or while I am driving in the car. I have literally leaped out of the shower ringing wet leaving the water running. Scurrying frantically for a pen and some random piece of paper to write down the idea that I am sure is going to make me a Million Dollars or at least get me an interview on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday or maybe even my own Television or web series.

I adore my nighttime rituals…. during the light of  day I am unscheduled, laid back, and unscripted. However when the moon peers through my white uncovered apartment blinds I begin to settle in. Settling in for me includes the following rituals-establishing a writers sanity….

Night Time is the Write Time!

  • Shower with cocoa butter skin bath soap
  • Do due diligence to my skin and lotion up with cocoa butter lotion
  • Find my favorite most comfortable pink sleep wear (pink is a must)
  • And….Write until I drop.

Writing to heal my day is the most delicious recipe I can concoct for my heart and my body. Sometimes its intentionally for publishing purposes other times its poetry that has been lingering on the tip of my tounge for hours. Drenching my smooth skin in cocoa butter replenishes the skin I am in, writing replenishes the soul I love in.

My simple act of faith includes a pink prayer journal with inspirational scriptures. Everytime I turn the page to a new blank sheet of paper and read the heading scripture I feel as if the words are made especially for me in that moment.

FYI Friends: I’ve already taken a look at tonight’s manna….Matthew 7:7-“Ask and it shall be given To You, seek, and you will find, knock and it will be opened To You”-To you, such healing words.

Night time is the write time for me to write. Having a Write to Rest ritual has soothed me to sleep on even the most restless nights. Writing gives my imagination security as I lie my head on the sweet pillow of dreams putting my words to rest for the night.

~Good night writers until we write again; May you have sweet diary dreams~

The Healing Power of Words: Voice your Story   prayer-journal

  1. WRITE NOW: Do you have a favorite night time ritual, does it include writing of some kind?- Write to Rest
  • Write to Heal a story about how this ritual came to be?…..Write all about it. Comment and tell me about it….or begin a bedtime journal.


Promoting the Healing Power of Words

Keep your Teeth in your Mouth!

Badass Biz Women: First Published in Badass Biz Women: By Salaam Green @beautifulblackpoetry

 Keep your Teeth in your Mouth!


Photo: Lisa Culver Photography


Reframe your Dreams

Have you ever had a dream so strange that you woke up the next morning scratching your head? Recently, I dreamed that my tooth fell out and I was holding it in my right hand.

Curious, I scurried to Google to find out the meaning of such a dream. Google concluded that a dream about teeth falling out has something to do with communication, particularly saying something that you should have left unvoiced.

This bothered me not because I tend to say things with great tact all the time but because lately I have been using my voice to heal my life and the lives of others.

With this synopsis, I decided to reframe my dream. Instead of looking at it from the perspective of something that I said to others, I began to reflect on what I had been listening to. What have I been saying to myself…were my words hurtful or healing?


As the founder of a business that promotes the healing power of words my own words became a detriment to my vision and voice.

I’ve been telling myself I am a horrible writer and poet, I won’t be able to do a business without a full-time job, and I won’t ever get an investor and reach my goals.

This voice is what propelled my front tooth to fall out into my hand forcing me to look at the bare nonsense I had been telling myself about myself. I am here to be a voice for women and girls around the globe whose voices go unheard.

The Literary Healing Arts Services, provides a safe space for sisterhood whom all have the write 2 gather the write 2 heal.

Business women, I submit we silent the inner critic whose voice has nothing good to say.

The Healing Power of Words: Voice your Story

  1. WRITE NOW: Have you had a strange dream?- Write to Dream….
  • Write to Heal a story about the meaning of your dream?…..Write all about it. Comment and tell me about it….or journal first thing in the morning.


3 Times I was Such a “Nasty Woman”

The healing power of words. #nasty-women #standupvote #nastywoman😘
© 2016 Instagram @beautifulblackpoetry

“A voice for voices around the world that go unheard”

I have to admit I spent two hours screaming at the television during the last presidential debate. Suffice it to say there were times that I literally sat on the edge of my red couch ready to jump in the screen. Hearing crude and that is putting it lightly comments loosely hurled in high-defination sent my voice in overdrive. However; the greatness of womanhood is to take what may have been meant as ridicule and turn it into a robust opportunity that fuels change.

My life’s mission and legacy to womanhood is to build the Literary Healing Arts Foundation into a community of healed women writers that supports women and girl voices around the world and globe that have gone unheard. With this as a superpower, my voice must replicate the bold brave expressiveness I encourage in others.

Withstanding, I am prepared for the impeding controversy of deciding to not go voiceless. Personally, I have suffered from the disease of only speaking when spoken to and it left my voice lethargic and anemic. Commissioned with a higher calling, I decree to use my freedom to express myself with authenticity. Happily posited below is an edited rendition of 3 times I slayed the status quo and wrote healing into my life by using my voice and penning my pain to paper.

3 Times I was Such a “Nasty Woman”

  1. Seven years ago I spoke up and told my emotionally abusive husband I was divorcing him and left my home and didn’t look back: I came out of the fire with peace and a better piece of me.
  2. Six years ago I joined Women Writing for a Change a writing group in Birmingham, Al. and began to write all about it…on a red couch with other non-judgemental women: I restored a calling I declared as an 8 year-old girl to become a writer. Ultimately gaining confidence to join See Jane Write a bloging and business group for women.
  3. Two years ago I founded and started my own business and brand with no clear direction or money in tote, I joined local business programs, began performing spoken word, speaking at storytelling venues, and submitting poetry/writing nationally and encouraging other women and girls to write to heal. Discovering I am a poet Dammit.

My voice has never been in the lost and found, I didn’t have to go looking for it I later learned. What I facilitate now through the Literary Healing Arts Foundation is that women and girls can use their own voices to heal their lives. The genuine voice that has always been there; but perhaps needed a little coaxing from a caring nasty women. True confessions, I’ll be humming the lyrics to “Janet Jackson’s Nasty Boys” for a while inserting the word “woman” for all who boss up, show up, and voice up bravely representing womanhood at its strongest.

The journey towards promoting the healing power of words, I am very aware is messy and requires transparency. Unapologetically, I submit it is time to write it out as we Write 2 Gather and Write 2 Heal, the red couch is waiting, and yes I have a feeling that writing and self-expression is about to get even nastier.


Mark Your Calendars for Write to Boss: Join the Literary Healing Arts Foundation:

Sat, November 5th @ Disco in Woodlawn from 11-2 p.m. for Write to Boss: Self-Care for the Seriously Busy Boss Lady! Registration opening soon. for more information contact Salaam @ Follow this blog….








Born to Be a Rock Star

stage.jpg“Ready to Rock….Ready to Roll”


Backstage to Onstage

This summer’s coolest camp took place at WorkPlay in Birmingham, Alabama where budding musicians, songwriters, and future rock and roll hall of famers gathered for a week of rocked out enrichment. From my observation Girls Rock Camp in one note is where campers have permission to “get loud” with a purpose building self-esteem and musical efficacy through empowerment and role-modeling.

This unique camp took the stage and the magic city by soulful storm with youth campers rocking and rolling into workshops and formulating rock bands. Ultimately the camper’s lives were transformed for a week where they became real rock stars; mastering the elements of music, learning stage presence, and of course entertaining gnarly fans to boot. girls rock

Girded up with my Girls Rock exclusive backstage fan pass; I had the awe-inspiring opportunity to not only do a mini workshop with each band on the healing power of song lyrics, but the night of their grand finale showcase I got a chance to go backstage and interview and video the private preparations of what it takes to go from backstage to an onstage showcase.

*uncut backstage testimony –Abigail (12) lead singer of the Black Cats*


Backstage signaled more than just rad make-up, cool clothes, and smooth sound checks….there was a vibe of reciprocity among the girl rockers, volunteers, and Girls Rock staff. This sweet vibration set the velocity for the camper’s enthusiasm, from goose bumps to the downright fusion of lyrical expression these campers proved they had more than what it takes to become future chart toppers. The music magic of Girls Rock camp was noticeable on the camper’s faces and their voices of sheer rock stardom resounded in the backstage interviews-as any respectful rock star deserves.


(Girls Rock Camper stage ready-Come on in; Ready to Roll)

As I walked into the dark showcase room; where campers were practicing their guitar swings and bands were putting the finishing touches on their booming beats; I met the following rockers who were more than eager to oblige a fan with the F-Bomb press for a sit down before the showcase began.

Meet Merci: 12: The Black Cats-Lead Singerchorus

Music Inspiration: My family has been in music for a long time and my dad is a singer

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Merci: Singer/Astronomer

Me: What kind of music do you like?

Merci: Punk Rock, Rock and Roll, and Jazz

Me: Favorite thing you learned at Girls Rock Camp this week?

Merci: Self-defense, song-writing, and to breathe while singing

Merci: Girls Rock has been really cool….I’ve learned a lot of things


(Merci of the Black Cats)

Brag on Brianna: 12: The Gnarly Pandas-Lead Singer

Favorite Music: Rock

Me: What do you want to be with you grow up?

Brianna: Vet and a cool singer

Me: What do you like most about Girls Rock Camp?

Brianne: Meeting new people and learning about music

Me: How did your band come up with the name Gnarly Pandas?

Brianna: We all got together and thought it would be cool…Pandas are my favorite

Me: Love your cool outfit

Me: Will you come back next year?

Brianna: Yes, most definitely I can’t wait this has been the best camp ever


 (Brianna of the Gnarly Pandas)

As I was leaving sitting in the corner with their Girls Rock gold shirts on were there 2 campers looming in the wings waiting for their chance to get in a make-up chair and hear their wardrobe call. I hurriedly went over and not only did I get a chance to meet these funkadelic dynamos; I was blissfully serenaded with a sneak peak of what was to come for the awaiting crowd already lined up outside the doors of this venue.

  • Zoe Chang 12 (ukulele great ): Gnarly Pandas
  • Spacer Dalzell, 15 (rock star singer): Believers Best

“Guns for Hands” By: Twenty-one Pilots: Girls Rock Style-Bands Team Up in Tune!


WorkPlay’s backstage gives honorable homage to a wall of famous past performers. I couldn’t help but smile at the empty spaces; for one day that would be a former camper from Girls Rock head shot giving courage to their very own fan base. Girls Rock is more than a camp; it’s an experience a well-crafted chorus of lifelong music enthusiasts encouraging others to go beyond the song and hit the stage drop the microphone and declare I was born to be a Rock Star.

And oh yes, I always wanted to write this somewhere, it seems fitting to do so now…..if you weren’t a believer this camp would make you into one….. Just saying, -Girls Rock-!

(Not quite done can’t leave before we hear from Musical Genius Mo Po 18 of Believers Best; sums it up best)!

Rock On Girls Rock Camp 2016


IMG_2011 Salaam Green; M.S.-Literary Healer and Social Justice Activist:  Poet, Writer, Founder and Executive Director of the Literary Healing Arts Foundation; GirlsRhyme &Voices of Hope Poetry Troupe for Women and Girls. Certified National Poetry Therapy Facilitator. Published on; Birmingham Times, and many other literary publications.