Ekphrastic Poem: No Wifi by Shanelle Gabriel

We're in a bar with no bars

And I just,

I want to hold your hand...

Both hands

I want to gossip in politically incorrect ways

I want to hear you shower me with praise

Then Crack concrete jokes

Old school banter

Yo momma jokes we used to play

I want to buss yo ass in thumb wars

I want to laugh like it bubbled all the way up from my toes to tongue

I want to hear jokes that make someone

Nearby feel comfortable enough to join in the fun

I want our food to come on time

And no time between plate lay on table

We inhale it like it could give eternal life

I want us to tell secrets

Live in the screens of each other's minds

To speak text

My face no longer replaced by emoji

I want simple things

No wires crossed

No mixed signals

I want body language all mine

Nothing missing or lost

In translation or context

I want to fumble words

Only for you to find them

I want imperfect terms

That I can't erase before they're heard

I want to hear you misspeak

No spellcheck to correct your speech

Humanity can exist without a signal

I want to go back to messages without a lower case 'i'

Let's 'conversate' like BIG back in '95


Updates!! (New song, shows, and voiceover work...) by Shanelle Gabriel

Hey fam!

If you didn't know, as my man Kendrick Lamar said: "I got Royalty inside my DNA!" So many great things to share with you, shows coming up, and a new song! When I say I'm blessed, I mean it. 

This has been a great season and there is so much more in store for me (and you, if you'll stay on this journey with me).  FYI: I'm back performing at TrapKaraoke: The R&B Edition. Save the date: July 2nd!


Finally, it's here! Check out my new song called "Pessimistic" aka Prove Me Wrong produced by the good fellas at JahRockn Productions. Please comment, download, and share! 




On June 19th @ 8pm, I'll be celebrating my birthday early at my feature at Busboys & Poets Brookland 

(625 Monroe St NE Washington, DC 20017). Hosted by the incomparable Caroline Malachi, we'll be listening to some poems, enjoying some wine, and having a good time celebrating me seeing another year. Let me know if you'll be there. :) 



I know I've posted myself on Instagram in a booth, but you can now hear what I've done! My voice is a part of a national ad campaign for Strayer University. You can hear the multiple spots I've recorded on their youtube page here: www.youtube.com/StrayerUniversity



I'm participating in The Lupus Interval Monitoring to Manage Disease Flare and Enable Treatment Optimization (LIFT) study. It's looking for participants nationwide to help researchers to develop an at-home blood test people living with lupus can use to monitor their disease activity. By completing surveys about your experience with lupus and using an at-home kit to collect a few drops of blood (much like at-home glucose monitoring) from the convenience of home, you can join the hundreds of LIFT study participants who are helping break new ground in lupus research. You will also be compensated for your time—receive $75 for complete study participation or tell LIFT to donate the $75 to a lupus charity. Learn more by visiting here: http://bit.ly/LIFTStudy-sg

Thanks again for sharing this journey with me. Till next time, 


Shanelle Gabriel
HBO Def Poet/ Singer/ Activist & Lupus Advocate



A Poem for World Lupus Day (May 10th) by Shanelle Gabriel

You think you own me/ squeezed my life in your palms/ taken over my body/ you think you are me/ Lupus/ you think because you've hijacked this vessel that you're captain/ you think you can get away with mutiny/ but see/ I'm still the same me/ the same beautiful butterfly floating on the breeze/ I ain't scared to wrestle the wind/ to battle raynauds thorns/

not afraid to diss this disease/ to find peace/ be at ease with this disease/ I miss my old life but I'm fashioning a new one with this disease/ in no way am I saying this is eas/y/

The way my cells fight themselves/ that my chest being in a cage of pleurisy/ that my scalp crying strands of my hair/ that the pain in my knees which interfere with my prayers/ makes it hard to sometimes find the joy in life/ makes the sun less bright/ but I know no matter what there's nothing that'll take away my fight/ When it seems to make my day feel like night/ I'll still reach for a star / when it seems my world spins left/ I've resolved to force it to revolve right/ and even if my limbs refuse to move/ my spirit will still dance/ Every day I'm going to choose to enhance this universe with my presence in any way I can/ Lupus is not me/ but it's the spark that created a flame/ my disease is not me/ but it's the source of my vanity/ lupus you can't damage me/ cause my body isn't all I possess/ I still have a purpose/ a reason to smile/ I'm still living my life with no regrets.


Lupus Opportunity! Join others in a groundbreaking research study you can do from home and receive $75 for your time. by Shanelle Gabriel

Everyone’s journey with lupus is unique - from diagnosis, to treatments, to flare triggers. That’s why researchers at DxTerity, a genomics company, are developing an at-home blood test for people living with lupus to monitor their disease activity. LIFT (Lupus Interval Monitoring to Manage Disease Flare and Enable Treatment Optimization) by DxTerity, is a groundbreaking at home study designed to better understand lupus by studying the experiences of thousands of people across the country living with this condition.

The Lupus Interval Monitoring to Manage Disease Flare and Enable Treatment Optimization (LIFT) study seeks to enroll participants nationwide to help researchers to develop an at-home blood test people living with lupus can use to monitor their disease activity. The study is being conducted by DxTerity, a genomics company developing tests to better manage autoimmune diseases.

By completing surveys about your experience with lupus and using an at-home kit to collect a few drops of blood (much like at-home glucose monitoring) from the convenience of home, you can join the hundreds of LIFT study participants who are helping break new ground in lupus research. You will also be compensated for your time—receive $75 for complete study participation or tell LIFT to donate the $75 to a lupus charity.

Who can participate?
 Men and women 18 or older diagnosed with lupus

Why participate?
 Join thousands of people with lupus helping advance scientific understanding of lupus without leaving your home. Help researchers develop new tools to monitor lupus disease activity. You will be compensated for your time—receive $75 for complete study participation or tell LIFT to donate the $75 compensation to a lupus charity.

How does the LIFT study work?
1) Sign up online at http://bit.ly/LIFTStudy-sg. You will receive an at-home finger-stick blood collection kit in the mail within 30 days.

2) Use the kit to collect only a few drops of your blood at home. Mail your sample to the research lab using the prepaid mailing envelope.

3) Log in to your secure study portal and complete a short survey online. The goal of the study is to see if the at-home blood collection kit could provide a better, easier and more convenient way for people with lupus to track and manage their disease and flare activity.

Help shape the future of lupus and join the LIFT study with me today: [http://bit.ly/LIFTStudy-sg]. I plan to join and share my experience. Will you?

#napowrimo Day 28: Hard Work by Shanelle Gabriel

He smiles

Tan lines crinkle like orange bacon

Lips shift into carrier planes

Exporting the bullshit of the day

They poke as he sniffs

Like he does between press meetings

He pouts

The razor of his top lip disappears

They meet again

They flap and flail

I feel sorry for them

They work so hard

To save the rest of the body

To justify the brain

To compensate for lackluster limbs

They fight

They fail

They renew their strength

Like American eagles

Their fervor unending

Like  American capitalism

Those lips

Push limits

Create truths

They miss their old life

Beers booze and boobs

Wide and open

Lips that move without consequence


NaPoWriMo Day 14: To Tyler and Any Teacher Who Lost A Student by Shanelle Gabriel

Tyler's tongue lay blank in his mouth

Lips crisscrossed

This was a mock job interview

And he was lost

More silent than he's ever been

Face devoid of his usual wide grin


He'd answered what his weaknesses were

To a T

But like many kids of color we see

Used to the world filling him with what was wrong with him

So when asked what's right

They stay empty

I later asked the class

To lend words to his throat

Only to have a chorus speak

"His honesty"

"He's great with analogies"

"He challenges popular opinion."

He smiles as he listens

As if he couldn't have imagined

So many good things said about him

From anyone other than the woman who

Gave birth to him

I spent most of my time

Defending his self esteem

From his screaming insecurities

It seemed everyone deemed him leader

But him

Scared to plan for the future

Afraid to desire more from himself

Because it would mean

Admitting he was worthy of dreams

He was 19

Took him 6 weeks to agree to a GED

Goal setting wasn't easy

Repeatedly Pleading for positive thinking

Telling him the image he sees in the mirror

Can be misleading

I wanted to protect his future

Told him keep dreaming

Told him work hard and it'll come true

Told him if he pushes against the storm

Guarantee he'll get through

And even if he didn't succeed with me

His flash smile and firecracker personality

Will grant him boundless opportunities...


I found out he was gunned down

In Flatbush the other day

He was 20

The will quicker call him man

Rather than potential 

Barely a few chips on his life's stone

Still had a long way to go

To chisel himself statue

Still a baby of a human

Cn't help feel like I sold him

A fairytale

That one day everything would be okay

That life was promised to him

That he should walk by faith

I wonder if we educators

Are making the mistake

Of thinking that if we just pray

Over the bowed heads

As they labor over the tests they take

That their futures will be safe

Are we fooling ourselves

Thinking out words make

Our kids bulletproof

That our visions for them can provide roofs

Over their torn families

That we can love their broken hearts whole

Or speak a shining into their coal

And turn their struggling souls into gold...

I know I am no Savior

Teachers are meant to be road signs

Not the road itself

And Tyler,

You were on the edge of your path

I will always wonder if I could have helped

Change the cards you were dealt

If I did all that I could do

To let you know that you were beautiful

If I gave you enough proof

Of your brilliance

If I spoke enough truth

To show how you sparkled

I wonder who would you be

What would have been your testimony

To the young kids under you

If the system initially

Didn't fail you

I wonder was it we that

Truly failed you? 


NaPoWriMo Day 9: Black Don't Crack by Shanelle Gabriel

They say black doesn't crack/ and we reference black beauty/ brown skin/ the melanin that holds fast to the legacy within/ whether naija or Brooklyn/ whether from the soul of the Congo or the streets of Chicago/  we're not as different as we seem/ the same painter but varied color schemes/ the same history/ They say that black doesn't crack/ but our hearts can break/ ventricles fight to pump fire from heaven/ push and shove blood through a body constantly being attacked/ seen as less than the rest of humanity/ They say that black don't crack/ but something chips at the soul/ when you see your people dying before they have the chance to get old/When isms and phobias are okayed by legislation/ discrimination a part of public policy/ they called it mutant registration on X-men/ what happens when science fiction becomes real/ this is not an appeal just to hearts/ but the thinking needs to change/ art can do but so much/ we all have to approach this fight unafraid/ We gotta be butterflies y'all/ but with caterpillar ways/ flap our wings always shine but never forget the ground from which we came/ take the hard world around us and turn it into silk/ push back/ throw down and wrestle justice away from White supremacy's grip/ Black don't crack/ even after pushing back from the 80s when the government made addiction a criminal act/ Black don't crack cause we got no choice but to stay whole on this path/ we seal our stories no sides to be picked/ whether we got here by plane or via ship/ whether dropped off at islands during the trip/ whether hands were bloodied with liquid, solid gold or sugar cane strips/ whether cotton or coffee/ we lived to see this/ we breathed to be this/ We fought to be this/ unified by clenched fists/ unified by clenched fists/ unified by clenched fists/ black don't crack/ Let them know we were born to be this/ we were born fly like this/ we don't crack so yes we woke up like this/ yes we woke up like this/ we rock our crowns like this/ and we're united like this/ dragging a painful past/ Black don't crack/ cause from the depths of our soul/ we were build to last.

SHOW: Tribute to The Fugees "The Score" on 4/12 in NYC by Shanelle Gabriel

Next Wednesday, April 12th @ 6:30pm, join me and my fam as we remind you of The Fugees' genius at the next Plates & Crates @platesncrates. We'll be covering their classic album THE SCORE at Amarachi Restaurant (189 Bridge St, Brooklyn, NY) with yours truly as L Boog.

Cover is $10 at the door, 2 for $15 online. Get your tix at the following link and a portion will be donated to the Lupus Research Alliance!



#NaPoWriMo Day 6: The Pepsi Marketing Team by Shanelle Gabriel

They exclaim

"How interesting their struggle"

Echoed by a history of

Misreading the body language of slaves

Saw the blank face and thought peace

Neglect the pain

Excited to celebritize this moment

Wonder if it can be packaged and sold

This is what happens

When Black people are not in the room

When Black people are sold their own stories

Black lives get White washed

Drowned in a sea of reality TV and Pepsi

And they will applaud


NaPoWriMo Day 4: Memory of MLK by Shanelle Gabriel

You waved

Showed your palms

So they could see where they crucified you

You smiled

Teeth bending light

Like you knew this was how you

Wanted them to remember you

You prayed

Like Gethsemane

Like Thy Will be done

Like you knew those that came with you

Weren't going to sacrifice like you

You died so they could live

While some monetized your friendship

Hands that shook yours

Like Judas' kiss

You were in no ways perfect

Only the Son of Man who walked this Earth is

But like him

You fulfilled your purpose

Your life was a gift


NaPoWriMo Day 3: Speaking Proper by Shanelle Gabriel

He said "You talk proper"

And I knew the date was over

My tongue heavy with backlash and sarcasm

I threw my head back

And asked "What should I sound like?"

He said "You just talk proper"

Like my face didn't tell him

Shut the eff up the first time he said it

Like my cackle wasn't a warning

Telling him to put down his shovel

Nah, he dug deeper

"I talk proper?"

Am I missing gravel in my throat?

Does my voice not echo like sirens

And timbs against concrete?

Is my tone missing that

'Wifebeaters' and basketball shorts

Type of comfort

You're used to?

Do I not sound like a Brooklyn chick?

Do I not pop off

Do I not sound like I used to beat that block

Do I not sound like I be's the block

You know what, son?

Let me son you right quick, son.

Damn right, homie

I talks proper

Proper meaning the vernacular most applicable to the given situation and circumstance


When ah talkin to mi Trini massive dem

Mi say "Ah gon lime wit my padnas

Even wit Bernadette although she vex me so

An oh gawsh Kyle him look reaaaaal nice"

And I'll point with my lips like so

Tell me I talk proper

Tell me I talk proper 5 year old

If I know every toy's name on Doc Mcstuffins

My niece doesn't have to give me

A character breakdown for playtime

I sing Moana lullabies

Can tell her the launch codes

For rocket ships made of cardboard

I speak proper when I use things like flavors of ice cream

And other analogies

To define things like racism and sexism

In a way a child can understand

See homie,

Proper is based on situation, time and place

Not a tone assigned to one race

My use of linguistics

Is not a metric to measure the characteristics

Or skin color of people I keep in my space

So don't look me in my face

And tell me proper is not me

Like I'm not royalty

every word that flips off the tip of my tongue

Resounds perfectly

No I'm not bad & bougie

I'm bourgeois actually

Don't project your insecurities

About our educational inequalities

On me

Try to make me feel like an Oreo anomaly

Cause I know "White" folk

Who don't know

Half the multi syllabic words I know

And Black folk with labyrinthine vernacular that would show

The ignorance in your idea of who holds

The deed of authority to the rules of colloquy

Am I speaking with clarity

Do you need a dictionary

I do hope you feel I responded properly

Poem: Memories of the Presidency by Shanelle Gabriel

I remember hi-5ing strangers/ car horns blaring like Emancipation/ union square park was an impromptu block party celebration/ even chess players took a break from their money making deliberation/ to join the jubilation/ Obama became president of our nation/ and it was like we spent years trying to double Dutch/ and the world stopped trying to choke us with the rope/ society finally moved in sync/ allowed a Black man to jump in/ praise God he had rhythm/ steps quickened when congress sped up and slowed down their pace/ but it was great to see some resemblance of sanity in the Oval Office/ amidst the pride of the era/ we made the error of not thinking what's next/ Someone jumping in that we didn't expect/ forget jumping in/ thisstole the rope/ treated this like a game/ I know manhunt when I see it / everything all fun and laughs/ until someone loses an eye/ or a constitution/ or the progress it took 8 years to build/ Am I the only one filled with trepidation when I crack open the newspaper/ am I the only one afraid/ am I the only one who doesn't know how to explain/ to a generation who never had two chose the lesser of two evils/ who don't know what it's like to have candidates with scandals/ with multiple wives/ how do we explain democracy when we/ have empty seats meant for checks and balances/ when the only people of color politicians consider Americans have to be spray tanned/ what do I say to make the orange boogie man go away/ to comfort those who know that things can and will get worse before they change/ our president with his shovel of a tongue digging the graves of those who can no longer migrate to keep families safe/ what do I say to comfort the child on the train afraid her mom will be sent away/ will the dreamers awaken to ICE chipping away at their future/ repeals ripping healthcare away at the seams/ how do I teach them to close their eyes/ count from 1-5/ breathe/ believe it can't get any worse/ breathe/ your legacy still has worth/ be comforted by the fact this isn't the last time you'll have to be your own President/ breathe/ don't let this world fill your lungs with fear/ breathe/ this too shall pass

Poem: For My Ladies (National Women's Day) by Shanelle Gabriel

Shout out to the ladies/ who aren't afraid to take themselves out/ treat themselves nice/ look at the menu and tell themselves "Baby, get whatever you like."/ Women who don't fear the single life/ whose world doesn't revolve around finding ways to become someone's wife/ who can go to an event with no eligible bachelors in sight/ and still have a good time/ This is for the ladies who don't mind/ that myofacial trigger point foam roll life/ self-massage might be all you got/ but you can hit/ every/ spot/ Who run a bubble bath just because/ who rub themselves down with scented oil cause they love how it smells/ who wear lingerie under sweats and a tee/ not cause they think someone's going to see/ this is for ladies who don't wait to see a movie/ aren't afraid to go dolo/ sip a glass of wine solo/ who can see an ex with their new chick and still say hello/ cause you know he's trifling and eventually she'll get the memo/ or really and truly you two were never really compatible/ Shoutout to the ladies who watch what they eat some days and on other days throw down on a combo/ treat themselves to dessert/ who's dating life may be drier than an Arizona desert/ but know their worth/ refuse to be subdued/ used/ won't tolerate verbal or physical abuse/ shoutout to the women who constantly make moves/  who vow never be Stella cause you can't nobody take your groove/ Women who keep their head and hold fast to their truth/ who dress to impress themselves/ not to get attention from these dudes/ Shoutout to the women whose display of confidence gets mistaken for having attitude/ who when they set the record straight are told they're being rude/ who won't take no for an answer/ and whose mere presence removes the oxygen from the room/ to the women who put our fires and blow bubbles amidst tornadoes/ love yourself for the amazing things you do/ date yourself cause you deserve to be treated like you're special/ not just when you have a boo/ never apologize for your singleness/ learn how to appreciate the power in solitude/ and if someone asks you why you aren't married yet/ and try to assume something is wrong with you/ if you decide against karate-chopping them in the throat/ let them know it ain't easy finding someone who can wine and dine you/ who can truly love you the way that you do.



Poem: My Empty House by Shanelle Gabriel

My chest is a house with a rickety lock

Worn roof

Steps that creak when someone tries

To enter

When someone tries to make my heart

A home

My chest is a house with clogged pipes

I get choked up during attempts to open up

Too many have left me with my faucet running

My momma told me not to waste water

So nothing rushes down there

Stays still

Like mourning

My chest is a house lit dim like right before morning

Like it's fighting to be a home

My chest used to be a mansion

Like a New England bed & breakfast

With so much room

Pillows everywhere

Smelled like cookies, lavender and light

So many gathered there once

Kept Spare keys beneath my belly button

Till someone shattered a window

I couldn't see right anymore

Someone stole my housewares

One tried to squat

Locked me out of my own heart

It took a year to get back inside myself

Another year to replace all that I had lost

These days

I stay inside my chest

Keep my shoes by the door

Sweep myself clean everyday

Guests can't show up unannounced

Or Uninvited

Who gets an award, who gets pardoned... by Shanelle Gabriel


Interesting how this industry chooses what controversy it wants to exploit and publicize.   When Birth of A Nation came out, there was a deliberate plot to destroy it and it's creators. Mind you Nate Parker was acquitted, he didn't settle out of court like this dude did. And he was honest about what happened years ago in a White, extremely racist college town. But where a White man walks a Black man has to fly. Nate got noooo mention for his movie and he put up his own money to create a film so many of our Black moguls were scared to back: one of few films that depict slaves as liberators of self instead of a White savior, a real hero. It's unfair, unjust and so obviously systemic. 

A Poem for Trayvon Martin by Shanelle Gabriel

 #5YearsLater #TrayvonMartin #restinpeace


If it were me

Your hoodie

Your youth

The silent darkness

Would not have made me cross the street

Tighten my walk

Quicken my speed

It's the south so I'd like to think

We'd have exchanged some pleasantries

Maybe a 'G'nite' or nod as you passed me

Your mother seems like she

Would have taught you when you pass an adult

It's proper to speak


You were perfectly preteen

The type of kid

Who always picked the wrong moment to laugh

Who had cloudless dreams

Teachers mistaking passion for sass

Called you "Bright boy"

But tossed it behind "difficult" and "distracts others in class"

Maybe they didn't see the canvas in you

Just as they refuse to

With multitudes of Black students like you


I could have been one of the people

To help them see you're the foundation of something beautiful

While you sketched your life

They painted your hands red

Refused to let you be primed

Demonized you

Before the blood in the Florida concrete dried

Maybe if I saw your fight

Through my window

Maybe I wouldn't have stayed inside

Or maybe I would have just watched and cried

Maybe I would've done something heroic

Maybe you wouldn't have died

Maybe you wouldn't have been another lost Black life

Maybe the world we live in wouldn't have felt it justified

I look at your picture and think

Maybe I might have called you one of my babies

As I do every young person I meet

Maybe there are too many maybes

Not much certainty

When it comes to how long our children's hearts are allowed to beat