Essential Questions:

  • What does wellness
    • Look like?
    • Feel like?
    • Sound like?
    • Taste like?
  • How do we come to understand to read and know the cues of our own body, mind, soul?
  • What is my current wellness routine? What do I want it to be?
  • What art form ( music, poems, books, art) can I engage for my wellness?
  • How can I incorporate the 5 elements of hip hop  into my wellness?

Kalonji Nzinga




Marlene Palomar

Wellness es


Alexander Williams

Save Me


Therapists act like they understand me,

always takin’ notes of how I ruined the family.


The ghost of my father looms over me like I’m Bambi,

kinda sad I won’t be alive to accept my Grammy.


I fear the day my brother stands over my body.


I can’t count how many times I told her I was sorry.


I cheated and lied;

her past trauma revived,

my happy face a disguise,

I wanna runaway and hide from all of the hate inside,

but no matter what I try I always dread being alive.


Believe it or not I wrote these exact words when I was five,

asking, “When will I stop feeling so alone?

If I kill myself now what’s left of my soul?”


22 years later and the drugs don’t even help,

her picture collectin’ dust I can’t even live with myself.


A Colt 45 in my mouth is just what I’m cravin’

realizing now I have no one left to save me.




I threw it all away.

I don’t deserve another say.

I got one foot in the present day and

another in the grave.


If you need someone to blame, blame me, hate me.


Tell everybody what I did, what I learned,

show them every single bridge that I ever fuckin’ burned.

Hell hath no fury like a woman that’s been scorned,

but you best believe I wish I was never fuckin’ born.


There’s no master for me…no shining Tina Fey


I only started giving when there was nothing left to take.


My soul is empty, my eyes are hollow,

I’ve spent my whole life thinkin’ that I’m everybody’s problem.

My friends come and ask me if it’s worth it,

I tell them, “That it better be, I did this shit on purpose.”


I’m a stone’s throw from bravery,

born out of slavery,

a Colt 45 in my mouth is just what I’m cravin’,

realizing now I have no one left to save me.




I told too many lies.

I ruined too many lives.

My image in the mirror ain’t the only dude I despise.

I stay dressed to kill, it’s a life of crime.


If money is power who has the power over time?


Last night was like my IPA: hazy.

Got into a Kanye fight with my girl man it was crazy.


I never had a father, just a nigga who made me.


My swag’s got such high cholesterol you could call it cheesy,


breezy cover girl, Maybelline.


It’s hard to keep track of who plays for the other team.


Tattered and broken, ripped apart from the seams…

like Eric Garner nigga I can’t fuckin’ breathe.


STOP sayin’, “Everything will turn out amazing!”


I consume that green grass like I’m grazin’.

Call me PnB Rock cause my heart be racin’.

Life is empty when cash is the only thing you’re chasin’.


A Colt 45 in my mouth is just what I’m cravin’,

realizing now I have no one left to save me.







Shawn Trenell O’Neal

BASIC FOOD GROOPS: Womanist Foundations Through Calories


Push the shovel like them chain gang brothers

Reminisce over y’all that made food best smothered

These ladies got more stories than underground railroads

But them garden varieties always brought higher piety

From Arkansas to Chi, I won’t lie, my wellbeing be in

Collard Greens cabbage with the red onion

Think about the neighborhood pavements hot summer

Dinner time! Grandmama had that fried chicken comin’

This woman would be the last one to eat

And took her time, like a clock slow cooker pork chop

That’s how the Fam rocks, backyard garden parties

Ribs and rib tips soul music,   rough uncles with fists that split lips

Afrofuturist “space is the place” “boy go wash yo face”

Sunshine plate sausage eggs with hotcakes

Back when Aunt Jemima had the face of nothing finer

Moms used to cut em up in tiny little pieces

Hit the streets with tales of how they cooked with telekinesis

Cream O Wheat with butter how I cream the beats and smother

Neck bones and butter beans you see the way gravy gleams

Poured by the hands of the ones that feed you

Catfish cornbread apple butter hogs head säüse     To cook

Time travel to days in Black History books

The mystery is what we still rationalize

Ghetto residuals killers and individuals

All dwell in the pitiful access is minimal

Theory states that imbeciles patriarchal livable

Shift the word from “Black” we can all stand in principle

Keep canned peaches pears and chow chow plentiful

Pickle the Beets with Bass straight from the streets

I’d rather eat than sling rocks or run from cops

And miss them Hilltop “scrimps” coleslaw make the “pimps” Hee-Haw

Eh Yo, do I dare express how I feel ?

Folks in da hood ain’t programmed to kill

Put the programs cemented is what change a man’s will

Tryin to figure,   are fake orgasms a lie

But I’ll gets mine lemon meringue, pecan, and sweet potato pie

My mental health resides in the wealth of Black love

I won’t hesitate they taught me how to Elevate and Levitate, and Contemplate,

Hallucinate, Appreciate, Reinstate, Activate, and Radiate, knowledge of self

And coconut cakes         let that sweetness Emulate and instigate Africana mindstate

Black-eyed peas with that hamhock teeze Pluheeze!

Now I can’t stomach these, I shun that Black heart disease

But chitlin theoreticals slavery’s scraps are antithethical

Of how the white man tried to trap us in our own sight man

But we remixed pigs guts and records,    hip hop, and peppers

And the Black girls laid out meals used as weapons!!


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