Not All Artists and Poets are Sad!


-Not All Artists and Poets are Sad!-

Let me clear this “Renaissance old” story for you.
Not All Artists and Poets are SAD.
Because my brain works in a way that allows me to create, doesn’t make me miserable or mad.
Because I share with you how I feel,
At a distinct moment,
Or night,
does not encompasses, the totality,
Of my entire life.
Because I,
Think better,
Create better,
Write better,
in solitude,
does not mean I am lonely,
‘always’ alone, or in a bad mood.
My Art and Poems expresses nothing “Sad”.
In fact,
I am more passionate,
and somewhat of a sensualist,
…might I add.
Let’s not forget,
Much of my Art is created for kids.
It’s not possible,
for an unhappy person to do this.
I am revolutionizing,                                      All of these old myths,
…that were told to you.
They’re simply not true!
All Art and Poems are not always Blue.

Andrea L’Artiste


-The Fight-


-The Fight-

In a controlled, conformist world,
you cannot become a public eye success,
if you are:
an attractive,
*highly intelligent,
Colorful woman, altogether.
This is too much power and influence,
Illustrating the ‘sensible’ way.
They will try to stop you at any cost.
You can do it,
Just make sure,
you have on your best boxing gloves,
with the thick leather,
and shoes with a nice grip.
Because, constantly,
you will have to “Stick n move”…and set off a few,
Bruce Lee kicks.
But I am a force to be reckoned with,
and you ‘Are’ going to recognize.
Every word that I speak,
stands BOLDLY,
inside of my eyes.
This is a different era,
I am some ‘other’ breed.
There is not a bone of fear,
Or a vein of fright,
Inside of me.
…I’m not goin’ nowhere.
The fight is goin’ down-out-here!
Bring it.-Andrea L’Artiste 👊🏾 2017

“When you become a threat, You become a target”

The enslaved mind


The Enslaved mind,
Will escape some day.
It’ll find a hole in the wall,
A crack in the window,
A flaw in the gate.
The enslaved mind does not know it is captured,
It doesn’t feel the invisible chains, the ropes or the shackles.
The bricks that are used as weights to keep it from ascending
Paralyzed, pinned, like a footprint trapped in concrete, cemented.
The enslaved mind, doesn’t see anything wrong.
Everything is right.
The Sunday worship, tithes to the Pastor,
Prayers to its God,
Morning, noon, and night.
Who are you worshipping?
The question asked of curiosity,
Is it the one who cannot, or ‘unwilling’ to prevent atrocities?
But the enslaved mind is incapable of explaining its faith,
Ask it to describe its God, and the response is,
All seeing, All knowing, the one who creates.
The one who blesses me, and wakes me in the morning.
Is it the same one who kills 9 million children each year? (Isaiah 45:7)
Some with cancers, and some with no warning?
Or is it the one you still have not seen?
Not in your home, your car, your church, not even in your dreams.
The enslaved mind will create illusions. It doesn’t realize the real lies, it was programmed to do this. -Andrea L’Artiste copyright


imageMy hips
don’t lie.
They speak the truth,
at all times.
Wrapped up in a fitted dress,
Or Jeans,
That Hug,
The curves,
Of my legs.
Covered in chocolate,
The aphrodisiac of the flavors,
They speak with confidence,
A forbidden,
Second language.
The swing of my hips,
With a big twist,
The connection with my thighs,
In cahoots,
My hips,
Don’t lie…
They speak the truth,
At all times. – Andrea L’Artiste

credits to the Artistt of this drawing. Very nice! 👍🏾

I will not move

imageI will not get out of my seat.
I’ve worked all day, too.
My feet hurt.
I got here first.
So please do,
Whatever it is that you need to.
Because I will not move.
Who do you think you are?
You’re not better than me.
Call whomever you may,
But when they arrive,

I will be sitting right here,
Guarantee. -Andrea L’Artiste copyright 2014



He is not my Leader,
I am his equal,
We lead together.
He is my King,
But I am his Queen,
I am his co-regent,
Not his subordinate.
He is not the head of the household
We both hold the house,
A helper, a mate, a companion,
All names associated with ‘Spouse’.
We are 2 heads to come up with one answer,
Not his head alone.
I am not his maid,
We ‘make’ for each other.
He sits on his throne,
As I sit on my throne,
…In the same home.
We are equal. -Andrea L’Artiste copyright