I’m Back…and I’m Thankful



It’s been months since I’ve written or posted something on my blog. And there’s a very good reason for that: Life happened.

Normally, I don’t like to post a lot of personal things because my personal life belongs solely to me. However, if I know that there is something that a person can learn from the things that I’ve gone thru, then I am more than willing to share those experiences.

Let me ask you a question: Have you ever planned for something to go a certain way but it turned out completely different? Of course you have. We all have, right? That’s exactly what happened to me from October 2013 thru April 2014. During those eight months, I was dealing with depression, fear, lack of confidence, debt, unemployment, anger, loneliness, physical ailment, and uncertainty. I was living in Atlanta at the time and everything was falling apart right before my eyes. I was used to being in control of things and so when things went haywire and there was nothing I could do to stop it, I almost lost my mind and started to question my faith in God. My spirit was broken.

To make a long story short, I finally decided to move back to my hometown in April so that I could regroup and get back on track with my life. It wasn’t what I wanted to do but I know that I had to do something or things was just going to get worse.

After a few weeks of being back in my hometown, things started to turn around for me in a great way. I was finally starting to see some light at the end of the tunnel. Overcoming a series of trials and tribulations can sometimes feel as if you just went thru boot camp. So with that being said, I was glad that I took the leap of faith and moved back home for a while. Things were going great in my life and I was happy with the way that things were working out.

But then all of a sudden, this happened…


My cousin, Tina Crawford


Tina’s burial site


On Friday, August 22, 2014, three gunmen shot and killed my favorite cousin, Tina Crawford. She was only 34-years old. They also shot her mother multiple times but she survived. My cousin died at the scene with at least six gun shots to her body. I don’t want to go into full detail because it will make me teary-eyed so I’ll just let you view the news clip for yourself at  http://pittsburgh.cbslocal.com/video?autoStart=true&topVideoCatNo=default&clipId=10503977.

The death of my cousin was one of the most hurtful things that I ever had to endure. I don’t wish that type of hurt on anyone. Four days before her death, we were eating dinner at her mom’s house, cracking jokes and chatting with her sister, Tamara. So I found myself wrestling with the question of, “How can my cousin be dead when I just had dinner with her, four days ago?” It was a brutal reminder that a person’s life can change in just a blink of an eye.

With Tina and I, there were no secrets. We talked about everything and talked damn near everyday. We were more than just cousins; we were best friends. Out of all of the things that Tina had confided in me about, she never informed me that her life might’ve been in danger. Maybe she was too scared to say anything or maybe she didn’t know how much danger she was in. Unfortunately, that is something that I will never know the answer to.

Although it’s extremely painful to deal with the fact that Tina is no longer living, I can’t even imagine the tremendous amount of pain that it is causing  her mom and her sister. To witness their pain was a lot to deal with. Tina was their rock. To this day, I still can’t understand the strength that Patsy (Tina’s mom) possess. Not only was she shot as well, she loses her daughter and yet she still declares that God is good. She didn’t lose her belief in Him. And that’s an awesome thing.

I was blessed with the opportunity to speak at Tina’s funeral by reciting a poem that I wrote specifically for her, appropriately titled, Butterfly.  As close as Tina and I were, I knew that I had to do something special for her. However, after the funeral was over, I was faced with the harsh reality that I was never going to hear my cousin’s voice again. There were never going to be anymore sleepovers, hangouts, visits, or her calling me saying, “Hey cuz! Are you busy?” That type of reality was not something that I was prepared for.

When Tina passed away, the silence became very loud and uncomfortable. I was constantly overcome with sadness and crying a lot. Just when I was starting to get my passion back for writing, it became the last thing on my mind. All I did was go to work and go to bed. It was like I was a walking zombie.

Then one day, I had an epiphany and I realized that Tina wouldn’t have wanted me to drown in sorrow and give up on my life. The message was so clear to me. It was as if Tina came in the room and said, “Sonica, this ain’t cool. Throwing away your dreams and not caring about life is not going to bring me back. You have to move forward and do what you were called to do. So write and make me proud.” So I immediately started picking up my pen and pad again and got busy. I dusted off my half-finished novel and started working on it. In the process, I also realized that even if I’m not in control of things, God is ALWAYS in control.

See, Tina never got the chance to pursue her dreams. Lord knows that she really tried. Before her death, she was in the process of getting her master’s degree and she wanted to own her own security business. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance to see her dreams take flight but I know that I will make her proud by pursing my own dreams and staying focused. Tina was definitely the type of person that believed that people should live life to the fullest. I’m going make sure that I live mine. So hello, world. I’m back.


Copyright © 2014 by Sonica Jackson

***The views and opinions expressed here on my website are solely those of myself and do not in any way represent the views and opinions of WordPress or anyone else.


The Woman of the House

Hello Everyone! I thought that I might just share this silly lil’ poem with you all that I’ve written several years ago. I performed it at open mic, back in the day. There was a lady I knew who had lost her self-worth because of her cheating husband and it prompt me to write this poem. She was still trying to hold on to her marriage and refused to leave, even though she knew of his cheating. The people at the poetry spot really liked it. Let me know what you think.

He thinks that I don’t know

But I know

And I smile

As he ever-so-kindly hands me my hot cup of coffee

And he greets me in the morning with a soft kiss

With his arms holding me close to his heart

That’s the kind of joy

That you could never break apart.

You tickle me

Calling my house when you think I’m not home

And when I pick up

You hang up

Driving past our house with no headlights

Leaving notes on the windshield of my car

Do you honestly think you’re gonna get far?

Yeah you may have laid with my spouse

But I’m still the woman of the house

His wife

His foundation

His heart

His greatest sensation

You’re just a sad temptation

And it’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing with him

So don’t say that I can’t please him

But a heaux is a heaux

And if you’re willing to stay open

Like a 24-hour liquor store

Expect him to get a drink from time to time

But understand that you’re just a pit stop in a small town

While I’m the capital of his world

Little girl

You need to get a clue

Because he’s not leaving me for you

I’m the woman of the house

His wife

His foundation

His heart

His greatest sensation

And you’re in a no-win situation

But you wanna stick to him like flies to sh*t

But the ring you want, you will not get

And now you wanna roll your eyes

When you see me passing by

Brag to your friends

About sleeping with a married man

I know about his dirt

And I’m saying that it’s right

But he made me his wife

So while you’re holding your pillow tight

My husband is holding me at night

So think about that

Before you rely on childish antics

Ms. Puppet-On-A-String

He may give you things

Butter you up with sweet nothings

But I know it makes you sick

That you’re just his stand-by b*tch

And now you wanna get mad

Because his phase with you, didn’t last

And you flinch when he say, “We can’t do this anymore.”

Now you wanna settle the score

By knocking on my door

Ready to throw down

For a chance at my crown

But for a king who loves his queen, he doesn’t want my fists to swing

Because you’re just a play thing

And I’m his everything

I’m the woman of the house


Copyright © 2014 by Sonica Jackson

***The views and opinions expressed here on my website are solely those of myself and do not in any way represent the views and opinions of WordPress or anyone else.

Excerpt from my New Book!!

Greetings all! I just wanted to share an excerpt from a book that I’ve been working on titled, “Strong Blood”. The main characters are  based on four sisters: Imani, Jasmine, Olivia, and Tiara.  After the death of their father, life for them takes on a whole new meaning. Hope you guys enjoy. Feedback is welcomed. 🙂


A couple of months had passed since the death of my father and so things were kinda neutral within the family. Well, at least for a little while. The first holiday without him was Thanksgiving Day. That morning, Jasmine called me and said, “Plans have changed. We’re having Thanksgiving dinner at my house instead of at Tiara’s house. She doesn’t think that her house can hold everyone.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, “So am I still bringing the wine?”

“Yeah…but I have to let you know something.”

I sighed and asked, “What is it, Jasmine?”

“Well…um…Olivia is coming.”

Immediately, my head started to hurt. I didn’t wanna spend Thanksgiving Day hanging around Olivia’s snotty ass. So I thought about changing my plans and going over to one of my cousin’s house. But instead, I went with the program. I didn’t wanna look like a spoiled brat.

I said to Jasmine, “If she comes, she comes. I’m kinda surprised that she’ll be there because I thought that she’ll be spending Thanksgiving Day with her in-laws. She normally spends the holidays with them.”

“I thought so too but she said that she wanted to come over. I hope that you two can get along while in the same room.”

“We don’t talk to each other anyway so therefore, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

About an hour later, I showed up at Jasmine’s house and I saw Uncle Lou and his wife, Nancy. Aunt Sharlene was also there and her son, Anthony, was chillin’ on the sofa with a glass of wine. They were all laughing and having a good time. One by one, I greeted them all with hugs and kisses.

Then, Aunt Sharlene pulled me by the hand over to the punch bowl where some handsome guy was standing and pouring himself a drink. She said, “I want you to meet my new man, Darryl. We’ve been dating for about two months.”

Darryl was fine as wine. His complexion was the color of tea and he had hazel eyes, dark brown hair that was closely shaven, very tall, muscular, and dimples that introduced themselves when he smiled. Everything about Darryl said, ‘young and ready for sex.’ But that’s how Aunt Sharlene liked her men. For her to be sixty-three years old, she had spunk like a twenty-year old.

“Nice to meet you,” Darryl greeted me as he extended his hand.

With a firm handshake, I replied, “Nice to meet you as well.”

“This is my niece, Imani,” Aunt Sharlene said to him, “She’s the daughter of Fred Chase. Remember me telling you that he was my brother that passed away back in February?”

Darryl said, “Oh, okay. Sorry to hear about your father’s passing, Imani.”

“That’s okay. We all have peace about it,” I replied.

After she introduced me to Darryl, Aunt Sharlene and I found a secluded corner to have a seat and chit chat. I asked her, “So auntie, how old is this one? Thirty-something?”

She smiled and said, “Chile, please. Thirty-something is too old for me. He’s twenty-six years old.”

I almost fell outta my chair. I asked her, “Auntie, why in the world would you want to date someone that young?”

“Why not? That’s the question.”

“But he’s even younger than your son,” I explained.

“And? Is it wrong for me to date younger guys?”

“”No, but…um…I thought that eventually you’d get tired of dating these young guys and want someone your own age to settle down with.”

“Who said anything about settling down? Young men are a lot of fun and I love having fun. I don’t wanna just sit around the house with an old man with gray-haired balls who can’t do shit for me except tell me what time the reruns of Good Times come on. Just because I’m in my sixties, that doesn’t mean that I should just roll over and die. As far as I’m concerned, life has just begun for me. I’m still breathing, I still look good, and I still love to love. And of course, I love sex. Besides, sex is good for the heart. Especially if it’s good sex.”

“But what if he only wants to be with you because you have money?”

“That’s impossible.”


“Because I don’t give him money. He has his own. I made sure to check that out. I’m not gonna deal with some broke-ass man who have empty pockets.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. Aunt Sharlene had more game than any man that I ever knew. After she filed for divorce from her ex-husband Walter ten years ago, she started to truly fall in love with herself. She enjoyed being a free woman and didn’t seem to regret that she got a divorce. Besides, she only stayed married to Walter because of their son but the minute that he graduated high school, she called it quits with Walter.

The once dainty and conservative woman who used to eat her chicken with a fork, was now wearing form fitting skirts that were above the knee with thigh-high boots. She started wearing brightly-colored jewelry and wore her hair in long brown dreadlocks with the tips dyed in blond. She definitely didn’t feel or look like an old maid.

About an hour later, I heard commotion outside and saw my sisters Tiara and Olivia walking towards the house with dishes in their hand. Annette showed up as well, carrying her infamous dish of potato casserole. I then walked outside to help Tiara carry some of the dishes in the house. My niece Carla walked up to me and gave me a big hug and then ran inside to greet everyone else. She may have acted way too grown for her age sometimes but she was still a kid at heart.

Jasmine invited a few of her next door neighbors who seemed to be very friendly and a few more of our relatives showed up as well. After all the food was prepped and ready for us to devour, Uncle Lou gathered us all around the dining room table and said grace over the food. Minutes later, we were eating like we’ve never had food before and we were just having a great time with each other. There was no strife and everybody was just enjoying themselves.

Hours later, it started getting late and so a few people wrapped themselves up an extra plate of food and then they left. Uncle Lou, his wife Nancy, and Aunt Sharlene sat on the sofa and opened themselves up a bottle of wine to enjoy while swapping lies and talking shit. Strange but that’s how they showed their love for each other.

A couple of us, including myself, stayed a lil’ while longer to help Jasmine clean up. I said to her, “I’ll wrap up the rest of the turkey and place it in the freezer in your basement since there’s no more room in your refrigerator.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks a lot,” she said.

As I was heading down the steps towards her basement, I heard a lot of moaning and loud kissing. I thought that maybe it was Aunt Sharlene and her boo getting freaky but then I just remembered that Aunt Sharlene was sitting on the sofa, drinking wine with her brother and sister-in-law. So at that point, I didn’t have any idea who would be in Jasmine’s basement doing the nasty and I was kinda scared to find out. But I knew that if I took my ass back upstairs with the leftover turkey still in my hand, Jasmine would’ve wanted to know why.

So instead, I eased myself down the steps very quietly and when I turned to my right and peeked behind the wall, the sight almost made me shit on myself. What I saw was my sister Tiara’s half-naked body being held up against the wall by Aunt Sharlene’s boyfriend, Darryl. His pants were down below his ankles and he was fucking her like a mad man. I was utterly disgusted.

These two selfish assholes didn’t even know that I was in the basement. Then all of a sudden, the door to the basement cracked opened and I saw Jasmine coming down the steps with a few Tupperware bowls in her hand. Tiara and Darryl heard the footsteps and they immediately fixed their clothes and opened up the ice box as if they were looking for something.

I walked over to the ice box and placed the leftover turkey in there and Jasmine asked me, “What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Oh, girl, I’m fine. I was just thinking about something,” I lied. I gave Tiara a very angry look and from the way that she looked back at me, I knew that she knew that I saw what she did. After Jasmine put the Tupperware bowls in the ice box, she went back upstairs and Darryl scurried right behind her, leaving Tiara at the crime scene. I think that he knew that I saw him too.

Once Jasmine and Darryl went back upstairs, I looked at Tiara and we both stared at each other without saying a word. Although Darryl wasn’t my man, I still felt the sting of betrayal that Tiara committed. This type of foolishness was one of the reasons why I always felt that I needed to deal with her in fifteen-minute increments. She can’t be trusted.  I always knew that she had some dirty ways but I never thought that she’d do this to someone that she supposedly loved. Especially family.

She slowly grabbed her left shoe that was sitting on the side of the ice box and placed it on her feet. Then she hung her head in shame and slowly walked up the steps. I wasn’t gonna tell Aunt Sharlene what happened because of course, it would’ve been my word against Darryl’s. And when it comes to love, women are gonna stand by their man. But when it comes to selfish people, they always have a way of trippin’ themselves up. And I knew that once that happened, shit was gonna hit the fan.


Copyright © 2014 by Sonica Jackson


My Short Story

Greetings all! I just wanted to share a lil’ excerpt from a short story that I’ve recently written for this short story competition that I just entered into. I hope I win some money…or at least get my short story featured in the anthology…or BOTH.  I titled it, Carla. Anyway, feast your eyes on the excerpt and tell me what you think:

October 12, 2008. It was a day that I would never forget. Not only was that my birthday but it was the day that a one split-second decision changed my life. I had to learn the hard way that one should always think before they react. “Happy birthday, Carla,” my grandma mumbled to me, in an uncaring tone.

She threw an empty and wrinkled birthday card onto my bed and walked out of my bedroom, closing the door behind her. Every one of my birthdays were the same when I was living with my grandma; boring with absolutely no well thought-out plan to make me feel special. With all of the awesome things that teenagers could do in the big city of Atlanta, my grandma never allowed me to get involved in any activities. It was like I was living in a prison.

But I thought that since I turned sixteen-years old, things would be different and that I’d actually get to do something meaningful for my birthday or at least get something nice. I wanted to be loved. But to know that I wasn’t loved and to be treated as if I wasn’t worth anything but a bent birthday card, had me filled instantly me with rage.

I stormed out of my bedroom and without giving it a second thought, I brutally attacked my grandma. Everything happened so fast; she was in the kitchen and she was cutting up a couple of potatoes on a cutting board. I walked up behind her, grabbed her by her hair, and threw her down onto the floor. She screamed and dropped the knife that she was using to cut the potatoes. I grabbed the knife and I stabbed her in every area that she wasn’t quick to block with her hand.

Then she screamed, “Carla, God is watching you!” I can’t really explain it but it was at that very moment that I didn’t have the urge to strike her again. With the knife still in my hand, I stood there in utter disbelief because of all of the damage that I caused to her. Her yellow sundress was soaked in blood and she slowly crawled away from me while trying to stop the bleeding with her hands.

All of the strength in my body vanished to the point where the knife fell out of my hands and I fell to my knees. I was so overwhelmed with remorse that tears were flowing down my face like a river as I crawled over to my grandma to tend to her. I was panicking because of the tremendous loss of blood and I still wanted her to forgive me for what I had done.

Shaking like a leaf, I picked up the phone and called 911. As I was waiting for the dispatcher to answer the phone, I looked at my grandma and she was crying in pain. I cried right along with her. It’s strange but even though she was the meanest woman that I ever knew, a part of me hated to see her hurting.

“Hello, 911 what’s your emergency?” the female dispatcher asked me.

With tears in my voice, I said, “My grandma is hurt. I need an ambulance.”

“You say your grandma is hurt?”

“Yes. Please send an ambulance.”

“Ambulance is on the way but I need to know what’s wrong with your grandma so that I can try my best to help you.”

I let out a deep breath and I said, “I hurt her.”

“You hurt your grandma? How did you hurt her?”

“I stabbed her and she’s bleeding really bad.”

She paused for a minute and then she said, “Umm…so you say that you stabbed your grandma?”


“Why did you stab your grandma?”

“Because… I was angry. I just wanted her to treat me better.”

“Is your grandma breathing?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Okay. Stay on the phone with me until the ambulance gets there.”

I did as she instructed and in less than ten minutes, the police and the ambulance arrived at my grandma’s house. The police asked me a thousand questions as to what happened and I told them the truth about what I did. From the look on their face, they seemed rather confused as to why I committed such as terrible act. I tried to explain myself to the two Black officers but one of them looked very unconvinced. However, the tea-colored officer with the bald head didn’t have an expression on his face at all. I couldn’t even tell if he believed me or not.

In an instant, I was handcuffed and placed in the back of the police car while my grandma was rushed to the hospital. I still had dried blood on my hands and on my clothes. As the two male police officers were sitting in the front of the car, one of them kept glancing at me every few minutes from his rearview mirror as he was driving. To my surprise, he asked me in a soft-spoken voice, “Are you hungry, Carla?”

“No, sir,” I mumbled.

“I recall you telling my partner and I that your birthday was today. So how old are you?”

“Sixteen, sir. Can I ask you a question?”


“Am I in a lot of trouble?”

He sighed and said, “I can’t really tell you what’s gonna happen. It will be up to the judge what your punishment is gonna be. Have you ever been in trouble before?”

“No, sir.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m not gonna lie to you and say that you’re not in trouble. You will have to pay for what you did in some form or another. But you will survive it and everything is gonna be okay.”

“My I ask what’s your name, sir?”

“Sure. I’m Officer Robert Newton.”

“Newton? That’s my last name, too.”

“Yes, I know.”

I couldn’t understand why the officer was being so comforting. Even his partner looked confused about his demeanor. But I had to admit that it did comfort me a little bit. That night, I was taken to a juvenile facility and while I was being processed, I looked at Officer Newton and said, “I’m scared.”

He put his arm around me and said, “I’ll be checking up on you in a few hours. Just relax.” Then he looked at the lady who was processing me and he said to her, “If she gets hungry, give her something to eat.”

After she was done processing my paper work and putting me into the system, she placed me in what appeared to be a holding cell. It was very small, cold, and had a stench that was so unbearable that it was giving me a headache. Across from me sat a girl that was the complete opposite of me; I had bronze-colored skin, dark brown eyes that were shaped like almonds, a petite frame, kinda short and kinky brown hair that reached my shoulders.

However, the girl that was sitting across from me had to be over six feet tall, she looked like she weighed about three-hundred pounds, her skin was the color of vanilla, and her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She kept looking down at the floor and slightly rocking back and forth.

With caution, I asked her, “What’s your name?”

Softly, she replied, “Sofia.”

“My name is Carla. Are you okay?”

Without looking up from the floor, she replied, “I told him not to touch me anymore.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“My stepfather.”

“What did he do to you?”

As tears rolled down her face, she explained, “He tried to do the same things to me that he did to me when I was eight-years old. He’d always wait until my mom left the house and then tried to make me…I just…I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

I knew what she was trying to tell me and just the thought of it was making me sick to my stomach. I asked her, “So what did you do to him?”

“I shot him.”

“You shot him?”

“Yes. I shot him twice in the head and killed him. I didn’t know any other way to stop him. I told my mom about what he was doing to me but she wouldn’t believe me.”

“Wow. How old are you?”

“Seventeen. I know that I’m in a lot of trouble but I can’t say that I regret what I did to him. He was evil and now the evil is dead.”


The day of my trial was two weeks later. I was so scared on that day but once I saw Officer Newton, I became very calm and everything in me wanted to run into his arms for safety. He walked in the courtroom and sat down behind me. My grandma was there with small bandages on her right arm from the stab wounds. Honestly, she needed to win an Oscar for her performance in the courtroom.

For starters, her long black hair was all over the place as if she’d been in a fight prior to her walking inside the courtroom. This was the first time that I ever saw her with her hair undone. She always took pride in her hair and in her clothes. But on this day, she wanted to make sure that the judge showed her sympathy and saw absolutely no fault in her.

With her fake act, she said, “Your Honor, I took Carla into my home when she was only six-years old. Her mother died when she was five.

“And I imagine that Carla’s mother was your daughter? Is that correct?” the judge asked.

“That is correct, sir. My daughter, Tracy, died from a drug overdose and so I have tried everything I could to make sure that Carla was well taken care of. I have showed her all of the love and support—“

“Love and support?!” I shouted, “What love and support?!”

“Quiet down, right now!” the judge demanded me.

My grandma then went on to say, “See what I mean? She’s disrespectful, she’s cruel, and I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong.”

The judge then took down some notes and asked, “Is the arresting officers present?”

Officer Newton stood up and replied, “Yes, sir. I’m Officer Newton and I was present at the home of Carla’s grandmother, Bessie Wilson.”

“Were you the only arresting officer present on day of October 12, 2008?”

Grandma’s attorney interjected and said, “No, Your Honor. Officer Mel Jacob was also present but he is on sick leave at the present moment.

The judge scribbled something down and then asked Officer Newton, “What did you witness when you arrived at the home of Ms. Bessie Wilson?”

Officer Newton sighed and said, “Well, I saw that Ms. Wilson was laying on the kitchen floor with a couple of stab wounds.”

“And was Carla Newton present?”

“Yes, she was.”

“Did she state to you that she stabbed Ms. Wilson?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” he replied softly.

The judge started scribbling again and then he looked at me and asked, “Carla, explain to me what happened on that day.”

Nervously, I said to him, “Well, my grandma tossed an empty birthday card on my bed and I got angry and attacked her.”

“You got angry because your grandmother gave you a birthday card?”

“No. I got angry because she never showed me that she loved me. Each birthday has been the same; either she’ll forget my birthday or just toss me an empty birthday card that’s not even signed and—“

“So all of this was over a birthday card?”

“No, sir. It is because of her lack of love for me. The only reason why she gave me a birthday card in the first place is because she wanted to show proof to the case worker that I was being loved and taken care of. My grandma has told me many times that I’m nothing to her but a paycheck. She’s told me that if it wasn’t for her getting money from the county to take care of me, I would be on the streets.”

“That’s no excuse to brutally attack your grandmother. You could’ve killed her. Don’t you realize that?”

Yes sir, you’re right. I totally understand that what I did was wrong. I just got tired of being mistreated by her. It wasn’t even about the card. The card was just an ugly reminder of how she has treated me over the years. She didn’t put any thought into that card, just like she didn’t put any thought into how she’s treated me all of my life. I’m sorry for my actions, sir. I just wanted her to love me and I hate the fact that she doesn’t.”

My public defender finally spoke and he said, “Your Honor, considering the fact that my client has never been in trouble with law, we are asking for leniency.”

The judge looked at a couple of papers on his desk and started scribbling again. Then he looked at both my public defender and I and then the judge said, “Well, unfortunately, there is not much that I can do in regards to giving Ms. Carla Newton some leniency because of the severity of the crime. So here’s my decision; she is to be removed from Ms. Wilson’s home and placed into a juvenile detention center until her eighteenth birthday.”

Officer Newton made one step forward and he said to the judge, “Your Honor, may I interject something?”

“Go ahead.”

“I do understand that the crime that Carla Newton committed was rather horrific and after speaking to her, I do believe that she fully regrets what she did. Instead of putting her in a juvenile home, maybe she’ll be better off staying with her father.”

“Well unfortunately, Officer Newton, her father is not in this courtroom. Besides, I don’t see how his presence can even help the situation.”

“Actually, Your Honor, her father is in the courtroom.”

“And just where exactly is he?”

“Well…um…Your Honor, I am her father.”

Sonica 🙂

Copyright © 2013 by Sonica Jackson

The Light (a poem)

Hello all! Long time ago, I wrote this poem and so now I feel the need to share it with all of you. After listening to what a lot of people were going thru, I felt compelled to put this piece together. So just in case you’re wondering, this poem is NOT about me. 🙂 Hope you enjoy it.

As I sit here

Thinking about what could’ve been

Thinking about what should’ve been

I get pissed.

Start having fits

‘Cause I’m sick of this sh*t.

Rent is past due

I’m on food stamps

And my man is sleeping with several tramps.

And he thinks that I don’t know.

Car got repossessed

My finances are a mess

I’ve had it up to here

But God said, “Don’t fear.”

And although I know He’s near

It seems like the harder I try

The harder I cry.

Sick of people saying, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Well, I’m pleading for God to work TODAY.

I know that you can’t rush God

And that He works in His own time

But I need Him to ease the pressure

Before I lose my damn mind.

Interview after interview, doors slammed in my face

‘Cause employers forgot how it was to be in my place.

I’m getting tired of your mother’s mouth

Putting up with all of her disrespect

I knew she was crazy and nosy as hell

But this wasn’t what I’d expect.

Sometimes I feel like getting in my car

Turning off my cell phone and driving away

But the little faith that I’m holding on to

Gives me the strength to make it another day.

And like a dumb ass, I kept taking you back

Knowing damn well that you didn’t deserve me.

But this morning, I woke up with light shining thru my window

And I feel the urge to set you free.

Please don’t beg for forgiveness as I pack your sh*t

Don’t say how much you love me.

Because your words are falling on deaf ears

You’re blocking my vision and I want to see.

So as I closed the door in your face

I’m ready to clean out my whole place

I’m gonna fill this place with new beginnings

Because now I know that my life has meaning.

I’m gonna pursue my dreams

And live my life

And I thank God for visiting me today

And showing me the light.


Copyright © 2013 by Sonica Jackson

My Ol’ Books

In Due Time

So Shall It Be

Behind the Mask

Several years ago, I self-published three books: In Due Time Part One, So Shall It Be, and Behind the Mask. When I finished writing the first one, I had absolutely no idea how to get it published. All I knew was that I wanted to be a writer so bad and that I wanted to see my work in print. Well, I was able to self-publish all three of them and although they didn’t go on to become best-sellers, I was still so thankful that I was able to accomplish something as great as writing a book. When In Due Time was self-published, I was twenty-nine years old and it was the best day of my life to be able to have my first book with my name on it and to be the only one in my family that had published a book.

A year after that, I self-published So Shall It Be and in 2009, I self-published Behind the Mask. After that, I didn’t write anything else because LIFE got in the way. Welp, it’s almost 2014 and I’m back at it again, working on my first novel. As I review the books that I’ve done in the past…I cringe. LOL!!! I don’t even know why they’re listed on the front as “novels” when they were just regular books written by an overzealous writer that didn’t catch all of the grammatical errors in them. LOL!!! I can be honest enough to say that I absolutely hate my earlier works but I loved the fact that I at least had the confidence to create something from my own hands.

My point is that I didn’t beat myself up about my past failures. Besides, most people who are successful had to deal with failure…and more than once. The only difference between the successors and millions of other people is that the successors DID NOT QUIT. When they’ve failed at something, they went back and looked at their errors to see what they did wrong. Then they took the steps that was needed in order to correct those errors to become successful. This is the same concept that professional boxers use. If a boxer goes into the ring and gets his butt kicked, he doesn’t just give up his boxing gloves and go get a 9-to-5 job. He sucks up the loss and spends astronomical hours training to do better so that when he gets back into the ring, HE WILL KICK ASS.

Anyway, I’m starting fresh and I’m looking forward to it. I plan to be one of the best by putting in a massive amount of hours into my craft and working much harder than before. I am going after my dream as if I’m the ONLY ONE that can bring home the title. While others sleep, while others spend hours watching TV, while others party in the clubs, while others complain about their life, I will work to be the best. This is my life and while I have breath in my body, I will not stop until I am who I want to be.


Copyright © 2013 by Sonica Jackson

***The views and opinions expressed here on my website are solely those of myself and do not in any way represent the views and opinions of WordPress or anyone else.

Mr. Man (a poem)

A couple of years ago, I wrote this poem called Mr. Man. On open-mic night, I went to this major poetry spot in downtown Atlanta called Apache Café and decided to read it aloud. I was pleasantly surprised because I received a standing ovation PLUS some free drinks from a couple of dudes. HA! So I thought that I’ll just share the poem with you guys. Let me know what you think:

Hey, Mr. Man

Can I have a word with you?

Or possibly an autograph

See, I’ve never been this close to goodness before

It’s no wonder why others try to imitate you

I believe that respect is due

For the strength in you

I know that sometimes you feel like giving up

Throwing in the towel

Throwing up your hands

Calling it quits

Saying, “Fuck it!”

And your ungrateful woman

Yes, I said ungrateful woman

The woman that doesn’t smile at the sound of your voice

Or shiver at the stroke of your fingertips

Or wipe your tears when your soul gets weary

Or applaud you for your determination

It’s a slap in the face

A punch to the chest

A kick in the balls

A slice to the throat

An insult to your pride

Ms. Thang

I just can’t understand

Your master plan

Reading books on how to change a man

Confiding in psychics

Talk shows

Your nosy mama

Your drunk uncle

Your gay sister

And your lonely friends

Don’t you see

That communication is the key

Sit and chat with your man

If there’s a problem at hand

Or maybe, Ms. Girly, the problem is you

Maybe he’s just sick and tired of you

Because you have some issues too

And you wonder why he’s cheating on you

Talking dirty about him to your friends

That shit needs to end

Taking out his spine and playing jump-rope with it

You think he needs help

But take a look at yourself

Ms. Independent

Ms. I’m-always-right

Ms. Oh-he’s-just-a-friend

Ms. Coming-home-in-the-middle-of-the-night

But you get mad and complain

When he acts the same

And you wanna point the blame

Understand that a man wants a woman that he can treasure

That will bring him not only physical, but mental pleasure

A woman that will rub his back

So cut him some slack

And get with the program

Before you be on the outside looking in

And you see your man laid up with your friend

Break out the champagne, candlelight, the leather whip, and strawberries

And celebrate the love in your man

The hard work in your man

The sensitivity in your man

The intelligence in your man

That’s the man with the master plan


Copyright © 2013 by Sonica Jackson