Azizi Carle was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts. She is a former Boston Pubic School student and graduate of Framingham State College. Azizi started writing poetry at the age of 17 and has continued from there. She is specializes in script writing, producing and directing plays, and art therapy. Her major in college was communications and minored in theater. During her entire experience in Framingham State, Azizi volunteered for the television club, drama club, and was elected vice president of the Black Student Union during her junior year. After graduating in 2002, she continued her art within the urban community and has traveled to many open mics and colleges events. Azizi currently attends Simmons College of Social work in hopes to receive her MSW in 2008. She currently works at Safe at Home with in the organization The Home for Little Wanderers. At The Home she is a therapist, who works with a co-therapist visiting low income families in Boston that are referred by hospitals for mental health services. They engage in therapy and find long term resources in order to stabilize the home. Azizi is the host of a poetry event called Poetry Explosion (www.extreemproductions.com) which is where she performs her poetry every month and occasional monologues.
Unfair By Azizi Carle I hold on to your secret Listening with a knotted throat Heart broken, mouth wide open But no words come out I doubt you believe that I feel for you I want to be real with you I wish I knew what to say To make you believe you will have better days I hold on to your secret Your pain hurts my heart I always think of you I wish you were at a place Where your healing could start I’ll cry with you I’ll pray for peace I’ll listen to you, I won’t even speak Over that hurdle we both can leap The past blurs your vision to the point It’s hard to see or eat or sleep Your constantly asking yourself “Why me?” You want to leave but where will you go? You feel like you’re at the end of your road So you eternalize the depression in your soul But you are tough, made of gold Dust off the sought that left you cold Listen my friend, will you allow me to speak The Love God has for you is much too deep You’re not alone Tell me How do you feel? What do you see? Can you take off the chain created from the pain? Attached to your feet I’m trying to make sense of it I’m trying to figure it out! I’m trying to re-light your fire That withers…. about to go out When I think of it, my pulse suddenly stops Just to start up again After I hear your secret I treasure that I am the one you trust Can’t tell anybody, But if your unsafe I must Unfair	Azizi’s favorite part of her poetry is the performance piece. When she acts out her words, the entire message is transformed into a reality that people can see. She says "The hardest part of being on stage is making sure the audience can feel the emotion that are intermingled with each piece". Azizi puts on performances that are very hard to forget. That’s her mission to create stimulating conversation amongst her listeners.
I Make a Way By Azizi Carle I make a way, from the heartache and pain I make a way from evil everyday When death knocks at my door Seeing a spirit soar from a love one I adore Realizing they don’t hurt no more For the next generation So that there’s no separation from the young heart and young mind Teaching children lesson now, other wise to find out as adults Might be to late- have to give them options on their fate While they grow, letting them know, When it gets too hot, they don’t have to feel cold Because when it’s time to stand Their spirits are prepared to be bold I make a way to hear whispers From someone not strong enough to speak Not strong enough to weep But strong enough to seek A mature ear to hear That knows when and When not to repeat I make a way out of no way I make a way for teachable moments To show a stranger that I care No fear of rejection Because I plant a seed And it will always stays there I make a way When I see violence and violation That prevents the focus of the promise land Feels like damnation in the skin I’m in Feels like to much sin and not enough blessings Where good fortune hides In my neck of the hood Regardless I make a way from negativity that hold my people down I make a way to be a survivor now I make a way for you I make a way for mw Out of no way	Boston By Azizi Carle Boston the inner city Color roaming the streets Plenty of sorrow and pain If you don’t have the cheese Crowded streets of people Thinking this is it They give us dirt to eat With no dreams or means Where’s our motivation Grab the paper from the Black Muslim Seven dollars labor mommy No desire for education teens Lies, lies, lies, over and over and over again The same ones, why do we believe them Camera, lights, action Let the news in to tape our bad apples While the viewers ruin the bunch Dudley street man, you own this block Named after a slave owners spirit Hovering over us, making sure our minds stay in Slaverrrrrrrrrrrry Bus our children to METCO schools Black sheep in suburb wonderland Stick them out like a sore thumb So maybe they’ll question there own self-identity So maybe they’ll be corrupted into wearing Black ties and roll up their sleeves and bare White souls But, Boston public schools read old books Lies, lies, lies, lies over and over and over and over and over again The same ones, why do we believe them With screeching black boards with white letters from Suburb white teachers, who never seen the lights Of our city streets The slaves said, “Up north is freedom” Boston Then second class, now second-class My man was refused a job, again Sit anywhere on the bus Just not on theirs But what’s truth color of Boston It’s embedded in our hearts That we are somebody So don’t let the project high rise block your sunshine And don’t let the trash on the streets clutter your mind Time has always been on our side But those lies, lies, lies, lies, lies Over and over and over and over and over and over And over and over again The same ones, Why do we? Why do we still Believe them