Whether it’s singing, acting, writing, painting, sculpting, or storytelling, real art does not come from comfort. It comes from pressure. It comes from extreme emotion. It comes from pain, survival, betrayal, love, loss, confusion, and the need to become more than what people expected from you.
My life was never simple.
I came from the streets of Washington Heights, running from the law, trying to survive, taking what the community offered me without fully understanding the consequences. When everyone around you is doing the same thing, the danger starts to feel normal. The bait starts to look like opportunity.
Betrayal, policing, surveillance, money, illusions, death — I saw all of it from a young age. My innocence was stripped from me early. I had to become a man before my time.
Education was not the road I believed could save me. Survival was louder. Hunger was louder. Chaos was louder. So I did what I thought I had to do.
I do not glamorize my past. I lived what many rappers talk about, but there comes a day when you ask yourself: what was all this for? Was it success, or was it just another illusion?
In my twenties, I became an entrepreneur. I owned a house. I owned restaurants. I owned party venues. I dealt with people from every walk of life. And through it all, I learned something important: I was always a people person. That was my gift. Even when I was in the streets, even when I was surviving the wrong way, my connection to people was real.
Then COVID came.
The world stopped. Businesses collapsed. Everything I worked for started falling apart. At the same time, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I was trying to stay afloat while watching the woman who protected me my whole life fade away.
After my mother passed, I broke.
I went to Puerto Rico in 2024 because I needed to reset. I needed distance. I needed to get away from the noise, the pain, the betrayals, and the collapse of everything I thought I had built. I became an alcoholic. I smoked. I was trying to survive myself.
But when you hit rock bottom and lose everything, something strange happens. You start going backward in your mind. You start remembering. And if you write it down, if you record it, if you tell the truth, little by little the brain starts patching itself back together.
That is how Poetic Cinema was born.
Poetic Cinema is not just a company. It is survival. It is testimony. It is pain turned into purpose. It is my way of helping people understand feelings, systems, trauma, betrayal, love, loneliness, survival, and the invisible wars people carry inside their bodies.
I do not have a degree. But I know life. I know people. I know pain. I know what it feels like to be picked apart by systems, by institutions, by relationships, by false love, by fake care, by money, by survival itself.
And I know this: feelings matter.
People are hurting. Many do not understand why. Many do not understand what this world is doing to their minds, their hearts, and their souls. I am not here to pretend I am better than anyone. I am here to tell the truth from where I stood.
No race. No labels. No pretending.
Just people.
My testimony is raw. My stories are factual. My voice comes from lived experience. And somehow, through all the madness, the recordings, the memories, the internet, the books, and the pain, I found the thing my heart was looking for.
I found my voice.
Welcome to Poetic Cinema.
A company of survival, stories, pain, resentment, care, truth, and healing.
omg so many gems dropped. I learned so much. Falling in love with the problem, experimenting, pivoting, gratitude and the importance of having a little corner in your home where you can go and recharge. Thank you both for so much inspiration!
It Takes a Lot to Become a Deep Artist
It takes a lot to become a deep artist.
Whether it’s singing, acting, writing, painting, sculpting, or storytelling, real art does not come from comfort. It comes from pressure. It comes from extreme emotion. It comes from pain, survival, betrayal, love, loss, confusion, and the need to become more than what people expected from you.
My life was never simple.
I came from the streets of Washington Heights, running from the law, trying to survive, taking what the community offered me without fully understanding the consequences. When everyone around you is doing the same thing, the danger starts to feel normal. The bait starts to look like opportunity.
Betrayal, policing, surveillance, money, illusions, death — I saw all of it from a young age. My innocence was stripped from me early. I had to become a man before my time.
Education was not the road I believed could save me. Survival was louder. Hunger was louder. Chaos was louder. So I did what I thought I had to do.
I do not glamorize my past. I lived what many rappers talk about, but there comes a day when you ask yourself: what was all this for? Was it success, or was it just another illusion?
In my twenties, I became an entrepreneur. I owned a house. I owned restaurants. I owned party venues. I dealt with people from every walk of life. And through it all, I learned something important: I was always a people person. That was my gift. Even when I was in the streets, even when I was surviving the wrong way, my connection to people was real.
Then COVID came.
The world stopped. Businesses collapsed. Everything I worked for started falling apart. At the same time, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I was trying to stay afloat while watching the woman who protected me my whole life fade away.
After my mother passed, I broke.
I went to Puerto Rico in 2024 because I needed to reset. I needed distance. I needed to get away from the noise, the pain, the betrayals, and the collapse of everything I thought I had built. I became an alcoholic. I smoked. I was trying to survive myself.
But when you hit rock bottom and lose everything, something strange happens. You start going backward in your mind. You start remembering. And if you write it down, if you record it, if you tell the truth, little by little the brain starts patching itself back together.
That is how Poetic Cinema was born.
Poetic Cinema is not just a company. It is survival. It is testimony. It is pain turned into purpose. It is my way of helping people understand feelings, systems, trauma, betrayal, love, loneliness, survival, and the invisible wars people carry inside their bodies.
I do not have a degree. But I know life. I know people. I know pain. I know what it feels like to be picked apart by systems, by institutions, by relationships, by false love, by fake care, by money, by survival itself.
And I know this: feelings matter.
People are hurting. Many do not understand why. Many do not understand what this world is doing to their minds, their hearts, and their souls. I am not here to pretend I am better than anyone. I am here to tell the truth from where I stood.
No race. No labels. No pretending.
Just people.
My testimony is raw. My stories are factual. My voice comes from lived experience. And somehow, through all the madness, the recordings, the memories, the internet, the books, and the pain, I found the thing my heart was looking for.
I found my voice.
Welcome to Poetic Cinema.
A company of survival, stories, pain, resentment, care, truth, and healing.
Thank you for joining my page.
Thank you for hearing my voice.
omg so many gems dropped. I learned so much. Falling in love with the problem, experimenting, pivoting, gratitude and the importance of having a little corner in your home where you can go and recharge. Thank you both for so much inspiration!
oh helllllll yessss!!!!! i’m so excited to follow y’all.
LOVE this! And Yes, I’m an OG. Loved Blog Talk Radio. lol. Bravo to you for being a trailblazer in audio, Anna.
Thanks for answering my Asian question. LOL, I sent the response to them lets see if they sign up
Thanks Stephanie! Lol
Kevin! Please add your pod & tell your friends too 💯
I added mine and told my wife who works with podcasters!
We appreciate you! And hope so ✨
I love what y’all are doing. Gathering black podcasters together is a beautiful endeavor. Keep going. Resmaa.com