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Dr. SER (Sun Eternally Radiating)

@sincerelyser

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Dr. SerFrancis Kee Brown Hughes | Wordsmith | PhD | Metaphysics & Parapsychology | Trauma Healer, Restoring Body, Mind & Home✍️ 🌿✨ ♑️♋️♏️ 🏳️‍🌈

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Decided to put my writing to music. Like & Share. #sincerelys3r #s3r #spokenword #music #hughes by @sincerelyser

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3 months ago

I thought I was rescuing kittens.

One by one, they appeared—tiny, hungry, tucked into places no one would think to look. Then came their mother, watching from a distance at first, measuring my intentions before deciding whether to trust me.

Somehow, in the middle of feeding them, searching for them, worrying about them, they started rescuing something in me too.

It’s strange how healing shows up. Sometimes it doesn’t arrive as a grand moment or a life-changing conversation. Sometimes it comes with muddy paws, quiet eyes, and a family of cats choosing your porch as their safe place.

Maybe love is like that.

Not loud.
Not demanding.
Just showing up every day until fear starts making room for trust.

And maybe that’s enough. 🐾

#S3r #spokenword #poetry by @sincerelyser

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4 months ago

RainBros #homedeck #bloodline #datboot #rainbows #hughes by @sincerelyser

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5 months ago

She be up. Werkin’ them late nights. Building this house into a home with me! #SINcerlyS3r #bachinda #itsbeenlove by @sincerelyser

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5 months ago

“Some people only experience attraction.
Some people experience recognition.” #spokenword #ancestors #poetry #poetryinmotion #loveyours by @sincerelyser

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5 months ago

by S3r #sincerelyser #spokenword #ancestors #poetryinmotion #share by @sincerelyser

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5 months ago

It stands beyond the fence
like a question the earth is asking the sky.

Not mine.
Not named by me.
Belonging to another door, another hand.

Yet every evening it enters my heart
without crossing the line.

I do not know its gender.
The wind does not ask.
The grass does not ask.
Why should I?

It lowers its head
and the ground rises to meet it.

This is how lovers greet.
This is how prayer begins.

Between us is a fence, yes—
but fences are agreements between humans.
The soul does not recognize them.

When it breathes,
the air around it softens.
When it stands still,
time kneels.

I watch from my doorway
and feel something unnamed in me
stand up.

The animal does nothing extraordinary.
It grazes.
It shifts its weight.
It listens.

But in its listening
the whole yard becomes a shrine.

The evening light rests along its back
as if remembering where it came from.
As if light and body were never separate.

I think:
Perhaps we are all like this—
belonging to someone,
yet carrying a presence
that cannot be owned.

Perhaps the sacred visits us
in ordinary forms
so we do not fall to our knees too quickly.

The neighbor may call it by a name.
I do not.

I let it remain mystery.

And in that mystery,
something inside me loosens—
like a knot untied
by simply watching
a creature
be exactly what it is.
#s3r #boot #poetry #spokenwords #spokenwordpoetry by @sincerelyser

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8 months ago

“When the Tide Gets High”

They say when the tide gets high
you get low.

So that’s what we do.

We don’t fight the ocean.
We don’t perform strength.
We don’t drown trying to prove we can swim.

We breathe.

Slow.

You and me —
we are not chaos love.
We are current love.

Steady under the surface.

When the world climbs up your spine
and your thoughts feel louder than your voice,
I don’t try to outtalk the storm.

I sit close.

Knee to knee.
Energy to energy.
Breath matching breath.

Not fixing.
Not forcing.

Just here.

You don’t have to rise for me.
You don’t have to shine for me.
You don’t have to be the strong one every time.

When the tide gets high,
we get low.

We lower our egos.
We lower our defenses.
We lower the noise.

And what’s left?

Us.

Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Not temporary.

Slow like Southern air.
Slow like bayou water that knows exactly where it’s flowing.
Slow like hands learning each other without urgency.

This isn’t fireworks.

This is flame that doesn’t panic in wind.

This is love that understands
pressure is not the enemy —
panic is.

So we don’t panic.

We pause.

We hold breath when needed.
We release when it’s time.

And every time the water recedes,
we’re still standing.

Closer.

Calmer.

Certain.

Every day with you is intentional.

Not because a calendar says so.
Not because romance needs an audience.

But because presence is the gift.

And I am present.

When the tide gets high —
we get low.

And we always come back up.

Together #S3R by @sincerelyser

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8 months ago

California raised my skin in sunlight.

But Louisiana raised my bones.

I crossed state lines
like a river remembering its source.

Not chasing opportunity.

Answering ancestry.

Five years since my grandfather left this realm
and I swear the soil got louder after he did.

Like it said —
Now you.

He used to call me the golden child.

I thought that meant shine.

I know now it meant furnace.

Gold is made by pressure.
By fire.
By heat that would break softer metal.

Two-spirited.
Multifaceted.

Not divided —
expanded.

I carry both river and flame.
Softness and steel.
Prayer and protest.
Masculine memory. Feminine intuition.
Ancestral whisper. Future roar.

And in this mirror —
bathed in bayou orange light —
I see not just a body.

I see a lineage.

Behind me, wood walls holding stories.
Above me, air thick with Creole breath.
Before me, a sign taped in childlike ink:

Jesus loves me.

Not loves the version that fits.
Not loves the version that conforms.
Loves the whole inheritance.

The in-between.
The layered.
The ancient, the becoming, the BEing

The bayou understands multidimensional duality.

Water that drowns
and water that baptizes.

Land that swallows
and land that sustains.

Cypress roots that breathe above ground
because survival required innovation.

My blood knows that story.

We are people who bent like cane
but did not snap.

People who sang in fields
so rhythm could outlive brutality.

People who braided maps into hair
so escape could travel quietly.

I am not confusion.

I am continuation.

I am not contradiction.

I am convergence.

The ancestors are not asking me to shrink.

They are asking me to remember.

Golden child.

Breaker of chains not with violence —
but with consciousness.

Not with rebellion alone —
but with rebuilding.

The curse ends where awareness begins.

The silence ends where truth stands upright.

And here I am.
BEing all that EYE am #s3r #spokenword by @sincerelyser

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8 months ago

I didn’t wait for yesterday to tell you this.

Because love doesn’t live on a calendar.
It lives in the way we wake up and stay.

I see how heavy the world can be on you.
I see the strength you carry like it’s ordinary.
I see the softness you protect like it’s fragile.

And I don’t want to conquer that softness.
I want to guard it with you.

When the house is quiet,
when the lights are low,
when the young heart here is asleep and dreaming —

I look at you and understand
that love is not fireworks.

It is the way your breathing slows
when you feel safe.

It is the way we recover
instead of collapse.

It is the way we stay in the room
when it would be easier to leave.

I love you without spectacle.
Without pressure.
Without expiration.

I love you in real time.
In shared space.
In patience.

And if you ever doubt that —

come closer.

Feel how steady I am beside you.
#S3r #spokenwords by @sincerelyser

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8 months ago

2yrs ago by @sincerelyser

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a year ago

“They Roar”

You are the storm and the calm,
the blade and the balm.
Royalty that never asked for permission—
the kind of crown they can’t steal,
the kind of light they can’t dim.

Your silence is a lesson,
your laughter a revolution.
You walk with balance in your bones,
fire in your chest,
and a name that carries kingdoms
even when the world pretends not to hear the drums.

The ancestors don’t whisper around you,
they roar.
They lift you higher,
push you further,
remind you every single day:
you were born to rise,
and rise again,
and rise until the sky remembers your shape. -S3r

#poet #S3r #serfrancis #kee #brown #hughes #spokenword #poetry #ancestors by @sincerelyser

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a year ago