Nov. 14, 2018


The documentation of a spiritual journey from General Education Diploma to Masters of Business Administration unfolds in Sips of My Grandmother’s Coffee. This is an inspiring story filled with audaciousness faith, perseverance, tenacity, authenticity, originality, and resilience while in pursuit of knowledge. In spite of failures, a mental condition, a school closure, losses, and an acquisition, to rise to the call of higher learner. Sips of My Grandmother’s Coffee is a compelling story of overcoming adversity. A story written for people dealing with schizophrenia, for people who want to know more about schizophrenia, and for people with family members who are dealing with schizophrenia.

May. 18, 2019


I was getting nowhere as far as progress with the book. I was drinking a lot of coffee, and smoking weed and cigarettes. Coffee was my closest companion and best friend. I was running on caffeine with nowhere to go. It was like taking sips of my grandmother’s coffee from her cup. It could have just as easily been puffs of my grandfather’s cigar. Either way, it would have been filled with hope. I took another sip of the coffee. It could have easily been sips of Tupac’s juice, I took another sip of my coffee. In another time and place, it could have been puffs of my brother’s weed-filled blunts. I took another sip of my coffee as I remembered.


A Vision A Journey A Dream Come True offers inspirational poems for everyone. Pieces of hope, these poems reflection undying love, faith, hope for the future, and pieces of dreams for a peaceful night. Soul-touching poetry infused with a touch of hope, beauty with words, and “Beauty of Thought.” Spiritual-in-nature, these spiritual poems offer envisions and reflections. In a world full of reality, these poems provide serenity, comfort, meaning, confirmation, and reasons to meditate. A journey, like life, has a definite beginning and a definite ending. This book of poetry is designed as a spiritual guide during difficult times, offering light for the spirit to the reader who engages in the spiritual walk. A Vision A Journey A Dream Come True is a spiritual walk with words in the right direction.


How We Came Up


In the beginning…

We grew up just like those teenagers on the television show Beverly Hills, 90210. The difference was that we were in Atlanta and those kids were wealthy and we were not. The television show was about the coming-of-age of a group of friends. Another noticeable difference was that those kids were white or Caucasian and we were not. Together those suburban teens experienced homecomings, proms and graduations. We spent a vast majority of our teenaged years smoking weed, getting drunk and mourning the loss of our adolescent counterparts. In all actuality, the truth is we were nothing like those actors on that television show Beverly Hills 90210 whose lives were scripted roles portrayed for the purpose of entertaining segmented to fit between acne endorsing commercials. The day-to-day details of our lives were too packed with too much drama and destruction, but that was regular in the dirty south in the area where we came up.

Had the setting of our story actually been out in California, Beverly Hills perhaps, there were not that many white girls in our crew. The star character playing the role as the nephew visiting for an extended stay, one semester to finish school after trouble was made in our neighborhoods. No rich aunties or uncle ringing bells, putting on heirs and living everyday like it was a day of fun in the sun. Our uncles were judges; cases were handled in the streets.

We had cousins who danced but that was before the real violence: the gun violence that penetrated our generation. We had cousins who were business minded only their tactics leaned towards illegal activities. Instead of watching stocks on Wall Street our cousins were too busy selling rocks on our on street. We had beautiful cousins, too, and look but don’t touch types; daddy’s girls. Pretty and smart with enough blonde moments to last a lifetime of seasons. We spent our days at the playground organized sports were expensive and elite groups, so as wayward individuals we gathered in a fashion that was all our own. Playing cards, especially spades, tunk, dominoes or Uno and we even got physically at times; playing inner hawk, basketball or even wrestling. Wrestling was a training tool, girls versus boys. They overpowered us with strength for the chance to roughly caress our developing young and tender bodies. Struggling for rank we survived off pure skill and we also found strength in numbers.

Drinking brown liquor and white liquor or whatever color wine with no discriminatory preference, smoking weed like there was no limits to the supply and talking plenty of trash. We were occupied.

We always said “it would get greater later,” looking back at those times they were greater back then or later arrived too late or never at all for some of us…



It was a story that needed to be told.

Darnicea Hope