Monthly Archives: July 2012

Another Crossroad Looms Near (For You, My Innocence)

Raging screams of anger quell deep within the lost thoughts and the burned  bitter regret of not trying harder, not wanting more for the person who was gone the moment I left the sunny palmed streets I called home in late August of 1999. I wanted and wished for nothing more than to rid myself of not being apart of, not being accepted, of being Wugga. The name stung my chapped lips, hot and ragged gasps of air held me in my churning pit of want. The want was the addiction, the drug, the true burn to run far way from the here that has claimed me once again, the crossroads another day looks so much like the same one I sat in front of before with life full of opportunity. Funny how then possiability was a foreign tongue, beautiful but unable to be translated into the language that I spoke in those days. So willing to jump, without fear, naive to the opportunity of making choices beyond the emotional downpour of hurt and people who use the hurt to examine your vulnerabilities to make weaknesses appear like a flaw that is ugly and dirty. Yet, weakness was the mask left on a blind face of strength in eyes that didn’t fear wrong or right.  Right can never be wrong, even when it’s chain and ball feel like pain over dungeons of hell like wanting and needing to be seen in the right because wrong was not the multiple choice option chosen. To do right in the eyes of being seen again will yield no more beautiful days then the wrongs done in not being seen. We feel and we continue to feel even when feeling numbs the distinction of each feeling to be identified. Just like the words of a language so beautiful to the ear yet completely lost in the unknown to the mind.

Possibility has saved many good men, many beautiful expectant mothers and children unborn, more mistake than miracle expected. Possiability has saved lives unable to forgive reflections of days pasted, of mistakes burdening the ability to give hope a role in the experience of living. The road so familiar met again, with that same hurt holding on, riding my back. Inhale breath, exhale breath, keep breathing, (thank you Keith, thank you netflix, thank you tv, thank you home, thank jyou past) it’s all going to be okay. No breath exhaled is one that is for nothing. no struggle! no triumph! It is  possible to survive each breath, those links to keep living even those struggling to escape fearing that the next will be harder to release, the one after unable to survive the possibability of failing.

The screams are loud and resounding, the distant ache of hurt buried behind smiles that don’t spread far enough, of laughs never truly felt, of people who don’t make it to the experience of the better version of me. The anger is louder, and louder, it screams but it never reaches the surface, never burns through to my heartbeat. It lingers in the shadows hoping to take my hope for possiability, to take the road traveled again for fear is no longer here but a lost of risk is just as stagnanting, just as harmful, don’t lose the ability to risk for possiability.

Dear God give me my faith to leave here where fear is binding and bounds us to the belief that love is lost on the undeserved, that love is a lost art given to those who buy it, those who leave it bruised and broken, endanger it’s species of change. I am not that girl, Yet I am not that girl left at this road again, to make decision of lessons never learned. I am not the girl who does not risk the ability to be, or am I.

Here in this alcove, I have hid, hid myself away from the world, hoping to find the the best of me who was buried beneath those ashes of regret, and sadness, the jones that allowed me to lose my belief in hoping for me. Hope lived in my heart for those around me built bridges of love to understanding, each whisper they spoke unto my ear fueled the ability to keep the hoping beating, feeding the opportunity for healing and now they old fires sparks, they never did burn dry, never really were ashes. That flame again thirsty for my tears. The eyes of my desire have been dry from the inability to lose touch with vulnerable. For this cave was no place of safety, no place of opportunity. This place was a a lying sheep, only disguised like good, only disguised as safe. This place was the beginning of, the reason why, the timeline ‘s beginning to choices made unfearful, not destined, languishing in disbelief. A cacophony of whispering memories, haunt my present self. Home looked good in the eyes of storms, yet storms don’t really leave as much as they move when systems of negating factors of wind, and water meet in experiences needing a smell of fresh, a day of new and the storm has come again.

Change is looming dark clouds of unknown sit in the distance. The night is dark, the day to light, and darkness is closing in on my heart, Unable to stay here with resolution only within my actions. The still is cold, the quiet born again, a rebirth of silence, solitude in the mist of a crowded past, yet the solitude is not deafening with sounds of that past. A newly planted tree on the side of the road. The quiet no longer a trigger to pull, no gun of bad choices in my hand, no targets of core pain. The whispers are much different then before, now possible is a language so fluent to my ear, so uncomplicated. These looming clouds, in these final days of confronting accountability, they hang high haunting me, the spirits of serenity. I am haunted, the clouds in my sky they haunt me with haunting ideas of new, haunting signs of move, haunting abilities to be fearless, haunting opportunity for great fortitude, for the most miraculous moment to take off the training me and use this person in a world, that does not know how to embrace the negative of the past days, of mistakes made, of moments that being the person on the other side of my reflection creates shame, so I shed the name of my past, shed the name of mistake, shed the shame of wrong choices chosen. I am choosing me, and the screams they quiet, and although fear lingers near my door it looks like challenge instead of obstacle, it smells so much like possibility, it feels like opportunity.

Maybe that tumble in my gut, in the core of desire is just the pit of fright I need to excel beyond just and reach for more , to even the score, for those loans of love I have given only to have the debt paid to me in unkindess, high interest of change. Maybe today is not an end with waiting on the looming clouds to destroy a new day. In the light of day, with a reflecting sun it may spread open with a many colors shinning, may look more like yet another door, a new rainbow. A rainbow that says like the book says, that it may rain but never again destroy your world. May rain, and the pain may remain arriving some days but never devasting the same way, in the same places. I inhale, drag slow, and deliberate, my rainbow is near.

a little bit like that girl who stood here with a four way signal, yet without the knowledge of how beautiful the open road can be, when a two way street doesn’t restrict, but demands that you be big. Bigger than circumstance, here on the open road the high way is not able to be manipulated with with a u turn, no busting a bitch here. Yet I look all around and the pain still lingers, it still burns way deep down under the new pavement, yet the road ahead is open, clear. Reaching out I see shinning, glittery obstructions catching my inner light, i see the jewels within left by this storm. I look back and see nothing standing so much has washed away. Some good but most the depris of unresolved anger. I look forward again and it shines brighter, forgiveness is within my treasure, kindness, change. The rain had left and come so many times, so many times, each storm taking pieces of my hope, my belief, my faith, my honor, my ability to choose for possible, and possibaility it was not here before, now it shines within the sun that lives within me, that single light of seeing. My rainbow is here, and at the road in the light, looks so right, , so clear leading to to ability to see more. The obstructions also bare a future, and it doesn’t look like right, but it’s very very bright.

Dear  Wugga,

I heard some time ago when we were at a fork in the road we were on that sometimes we must go hunting inside ourselves, to rid ourselves of our darkest parts, because if we don’t we would just become them. I almost lost myself to that dark. I met so many of us, experienced them each with vigor and without fear, then I began to realize I wasn’t hunting, I had become your prey. You were hunting me, not to kill me, but to live here so you could feel the heat of the sun. I am not angry with you wanting to believe that you needed to live. I promise you won’t die, your my innoence, where my belief was born, you didn’t believe enough in you, in your worth , in your precious part of how we become home, and I vow to never let you die in pursuit of getting to know more positive, we didn’t believe with eyes or stories heard, we had to go seek, but I am here, will never leave you, now that I have survived the worst of it’s consequence, without you innoence, we would have never met perservence, your inability to just be told, has built a prototype a mold that can never stripped of it’s purpose or beauty. You allowed me to forgive, because you hate a lonely home. The shade is only temporary and best with it becomes to hot, and we become frustrated and sticky with hurt. You met resentment, you met neglect, you met complancy, and while they were not toxic to others, it was our kyprotonite. It caused us to lose our first love, we were so close to dying, we resulted to pairing with dependency, lived on gluttony, hung with denying, and we almost lost you innoence. Never again, you have my words, you have my vow, that I will hunt daily so not to allow us to die looking for love, that we have here. Yes, I love you. We traveled to One Tree Hill and we found inspiration and inspiration has got some good friends, and shows himself more now then ever, we may not have those outside rallying for us, not a whole stand of supporters, but the few we have deserve our ability to not only believe in possiability but apply it to opportunity, and that’ can’t happen here, being bulliedd by fear. Here in the between, faith is powerless, we must choose, and it’s time now and you don’t need to hide, I need you now more than ever, I need that piece that does not care about how long fear lingers, she is a fool for the ride, being peaceful you have t asted it now, but it was just a taste, because you hid, afraid that if you appeared it would take you, but you didn’t notice how much had grown, now faith is our roommate and we live in our heart, so self sustaiining, It’s time you join me, say goodbye to Wugga who can be left here, she is the soildier, whering her medals of honor, she was strong, and loud, and showed them why she lead this army, she forgave it all, she taught us how to fall, get up and have no shame in shedding the name given, to wear the name earned  and stand upright and tall.  That’s right.. let’s take this ride, you feel the heat of that light on your skin, no more survive, what do you say? Ready? Let’s do it… Let’s thrive

With Love,  A’Nya Khadija Monea Lewis

PS. I like your new Label.. Nya Monea, sounds good to me

The Weapon, The Cure, The Reason

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Filed under a rant of love, change, destiny, Emotion, growth, Inspiration, life, love, personal understanding, Positivity

In the distance


Lies memories of lost hurt and pain Yet behind closed eyes lives the possible possibility possibly? I know that is up to me what I keep and is left on the other side of the mountain. Hope for better for true love in all types and stages.

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July 15, 2012 · 7:00 am

Keepin It Real d-A-R-e 2 "B" Change

Fighting Limits of Law Enforcers


Occupy is a movement, a voice, a belief to be shared.  Here in my hometown the city of the superficial Los Angeles Occupy La has been fighting on the behalf of the common good. The truth or belief in one’s ideals is always subjective by definition. Yet it doesn’t mean that the purpose isn’t objective. We have lawyers, and Police, Federal Agents, National Guard, Army, Marines, Air Force, even the slight yet meaning ful security guards at the doors of our favorite places, and sometimes homes. These entities of protection are meant to do what. To enforce the idea of peace. Yet each day I look at the passing cop cars with disdain and anger. At first I  believed it was the way of the black upbringing, a muddy and painful repercussion of the past relationship with their value system, and the knowledge and unfortunately experience…

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Audible Smile

It is beautiful how it happens when you think you expect something and find that you only expected to be. To be in that moment, when you feel happy or end up in a smile that is audible, escaping a place that you really don’t understand is there because when it happens it’s always a surprise. Even when I stimulate it, intentionally; that place with stories that sell reality with a sense of play, memories that take you back to happy days that have of comic sighs and those smiles that become audible unexpected moments of beautiful. I mark the days that tears meet those audible smiles because those are days that acceptance of the most unexplainable seems to happen. When my expectation is exceeded beyond what was somehow inbred inside of me due to previous action or choice or interaction. To live each day available to the ability to have unexpected connection to that place within myself in which a smile arrives and that sound escapes me. The reflection that images share, that mirrors, that me can put a smile on, that is expected and intended, yet that me where sincerity is born with moments of unexpected who sometimes can’t find the smile when I need it the most. Each moment, each heartbeat, each extension that connects you to the life you live is appreciation if you share it with yourself first and then whoever shares your place, the place that can give birth to your audible smile.

Believe in the unexpected, in the unexplainable, unique beautiful that is not sold by opinion of others, by past versions of some other humans version of it. We spend days seeking truths and happiness, and some other person to connect to, and we forget that all that we seek can be found in that place that is pregnant trimester into day into moments still coming with availability for those unexpected moment of smiles that become audible, taking the body sometimes into full body spasms and then a deep breath that escapes open lips as we give the body oxygen for the souls invasion.

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Filed under personal understanding, Positivity, Written Emotion, you

Questioning life? Why when I can show faith?


The universe even with all the knowledge we obtain cannot be judged or finite. I don’t question yet sit back with eyes of magnificant and vast appreacition of it’s ability to remain a domain if mystery. The more I live in this abundant creation of science, the more I know a God by whatever name or power exists. Its the most beautiful acceptance in my world. Why do we question so much. Is it fear or true curosioty. Do we need to know everything when neighbors and friends could use that same attention. We spend less time supporting the heart for the mind. That question is the one I seek to answer.

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July 9, 2012 · 9:22 am

Absence , Yours Held Me

in the mirror I see you,

their in the slant of my eyes

at your featured cleft copied to my chin

Can’t escape the you that’s is the beginning to my core

can’t take away from the four

identifying marks that label me yours

you aversion to love, you abuse of truth

I can’t escape which I was dervived of

Can’t erase what I arrived from

All of it a part of me

even the dark dingy parts that make me want to resists myself

violently, denying any parts of you reside within

as much as I want to use the word hate to combat the lack of love shown

with each hurt feeling bruise of your lack of action , I have grown

I know I can’t change you but use you as a propelled in flesh example of what not to be

you see even in the pain, wet from tears pouring like rain

those portals of rain became the chain of links that left me with truth

disappointment of desire to have arms circled around my misunderstanding

taught the lesson that even those issued jobs of caring won’t care if God is not present in their intent

to some extinct

the sadness has become pity

A sentence of infinity deadbolt locked to life, here in this hell fell beyond heaven

left to atmospheric us humans inside deep the soul lives

I know this life is to come to a close at some point

i feel the truth of humanity, the gift of this human suit made of leather repairing skin

which is done right one time will show that its all about appreaciation

appreciating the bad days along with the good


Your home as gritty as ghetto’s with shot soaring through the quiet nights

My hood no different, just without the sadness of others the binding of brothers by gangs

no rising brotherhood connecting me to sentimentality of feeling no my hood was small, just two you and I

as i began down the path of streets beat to avoid your face

my never dying disgrace to you lips

your taste for me had me stripped fom the seasoned food of my truth

Soon I would find out that your hood, your dynasty of control

was trully hood… it was a exit exam for elementary thought and enabled mind

so many of peers owned.. yes it was a hood of divinity and it expelled the weak and ignorant and built intelligent sympathetic warriors see Hood.. Was Heaven’s opportunity for me offerinig definitive characterstics.

A suburbian home of midlife love comfortable and daily the same

does not build believers of fight

Believers in the right of the common good

I did grow hurt and I did deter from the roads that others will call right

yet warriors training gladiators don’t come from homes of lies so perfect they feel like truth

with perfect youth tales all surface no lessons of shame, or eyes of change

A later in life successors comes fom the experience of life unpopular by popular belief

if smiles were not made to be appreaciated from previously understated or underrated

melodic sighs of relief

that I would be just a spoiled doll girl like so many peers still lost in the formindable years when me was all that could be heard fom their wanting lips

Those girls who played with the rounded grounds of attraction, firm booties, high titties and the  ability to just get without work

So I must say thank you for your damaging ways,  selfish days never producing conversations of my little lady warnings

the exception is “don’t be like me regretting babies wishing i was some other place other than here

The direct consequence is my eloquence,

my heartbeat strong, my fear only a motivation

my denying of mediocrity , my journey on a road to beliefs untaught by your presence inbred by your absentee parenting

Now I look over at my paiin and it seems so lame in compariion to what it is your feeling or hiding.This time I must admit

not so different fom you so confused and immersed in me

With the revision of faith and the appearence of belief, the admission of guilt

the action of accountability

My path now changed taking roads chosen by instinct, lesson learned consequence simple

when roads of right. treated quoted to our young learning,  one of the few truth from that

basic instructions before leaving earth booklet,

some learned before idea is first person, the bible

use it, to conform, read it for summation noy literal be valued for lesson as seen in, experienced shared i

this statement earned number lesson, how you retrieve the most abundant of blessings

treat those who your connection in all things as you have to you

powerful, but simple in its explanation no need for interruption

no belief, no movement, no revolution will differ in it’s exploration or delivery

it simply knows nothing of experience or sensation

for those not with words so pretty, it’s easy no detail

not doing what I don’t want relayed to me

Its alot heavy yet,

Yet, so easy to carry,

Unlike that wrong which was lite, difficult to carry

infectious consequences side effect crippling

Manipulating the mind,

Deliberate retreats to sell illusions, graphic delusions,

I resist this I won’t apply, your inability to to look outside I

Yet, me the I inside is the only 3Ye used to see, speak, or feel,

I do not have to apply those learned behaviors

Instead, ideal earned by nurturing the difference I see

So I click back, Undo, the application permissions,

hating me for hating the you in me

i forgive my reflection for it’s likeness to you

yet if I forget to trust that raw inner feeling

test ahead for faith, notification

I find the beauty of letting go and letting GOd.

He made me of you so I could take care of you

so I might as well take the express train to acceptance

your never going to change

That story is gone so old , its time to start a new book, a new story

a new page


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Filed under a rant of love, change, Choices, desire, destiny, Emotion, gratitude, growth, influences, life, love, relationships, The Me Files, Uncategorized, women, you

Bed Made

I am not about being the oppressor, being the one to call your bluff

but what the fuck…

Do you know how many good women are sitting at home praying for a good man to walk through the door and be home

lay his hat on the coat rack, his briefcase at the door

How many women who put up with bullshit

just wishing he was the right kind

in his right mind

will stay the night this time

and you have one who has offered you everything to just make him your play thing

Okay men have played the game with hearts for centuries

it might even be coded into the chromosones before they are multiplied cells

for it seems that on average it is a commonality that men

treat hearts with brutality

Especially after they have  played honestly once to just be played

Yet if I calculate the stories of true pain

I mean the kind that change the core of belief in love

then men seemed to be the most effected. Us ladies

must be tenacious

able to fogive and move to the next without the penalty of war crimes

holding us hostage

The male ability to logically repeat with the next

the same beginnings of the ex are simply

not as easy for them to comprehend

so why with the knowledge would use your womb

to gain access to not just love but security

taking our greatest possibility

to being living proof o miraclous beyond the high


why would you use his seed to feed your body

decorate your homes or to right his wrongs

for as you laid in the made bed

you lead his heart with his vulnerabilty

his need to connect emotionally already

without your legs opening you were in the zone of wrong

see his heart don’t beat so fiercely or as long

built with the belief that men provide and not complain

that while hurt is universal without name or claim

told to blink back leaks fom expressive eyes to square shoulders

the wars of emotional tyranny are told to be released. when hurt in this life, against  the world… son you fight…

is that what your going to teach the son you just gambled

when you  played, plotted and trapped his daddy with his physical pull to lay with you

penetrate you, copulate knowing after he pulled out he probably would walk out

All you had were thos sensually driven moments, those honest words he spoken a million days ago before you showed the holes in the script you you wrote with the intent to make him yours

when he implicitly said, no desire to wed, no desire for forever, just need this.

this hit that i will manipulate with lip to lips sweet touches some define as kiss

Now his child that he loves with whole cognitive not intent freely and completely

no desire to be so running like forrest unless toward this creation of two even if the half was you

the woman who he hurt then repented loved again but then

you played him, with the perparation of making his station in this life to also include father to soon

a baby wasn’t something he hadn’t projected to be added to his life, just not befoe he asked his heart desire to be his wife and he was hurt mostly because you knew about the blueprint he had designed for his accession to manhood

no what’s up hood, no banging gangs, no baby making for mama’s to define him

you said that baby was not in your current plans reciprocated his desire to just be a young man and you the woman to compliment him

You knew and you said you would never do that type of thing to a man

never use his youthful lust and his naive love to be the glove

that fit his fear just to keep him near

no babies frivolously made friday nights in his bed

you know what you said

I don’t mean to judge but I know him without the romance of sexing, texting cute hellos

I know him beyond what he protrays

what he sells for interest, understand the truth he didn’t onfide in you because he was afraid you yell dismiss instead showing him glossed lips to kiss

I know he said he loved you to, he did, and still hold love for you but what you did was wrong

now you are the predator no greater than he before you told him he would be a daddy

the only true risk in this game you play is that seed that fertilized that egg and lays present before the eyes.

Already it defies the ability to not believe in love

but jealousy is where the beauty dervived from

now barely surviving your truth

“Daddy isn’t dead, and no he does love you…it’s time I tell the truth”

Mommy told daddy that you… interject and inspect the truth

Before you bleed out your ability for complete selfishness

adolescence will need truth and daddy.

Don’t allow the bed you have made to be made for you child to

Teach him that while every descision won’t be his best

how fortifude is the most acclaimed of life heroic actions

to bravely go forward toward redemption


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Filed under a rant of love, change, growth, personal understanding, poetry, Positivity, relationships, Uncategorized

willing to be………

willing to be the rarity in the mist

a uniformed society is never a battle uncomplicated

Never easy to explain,

why because a rarity is cost and the  reason for home land security

riddled undocumented truths that don’t hide behind black out inked

I am rarely the rarity that will appear on the mainstream news

locked behind journalist divulging the skills of in battle synpers

female ingenuity  battling for the likeness of unity

Yes likeness because whiteness is lost in blackness and blackness is seen as unpure

unsure of what I mean look beyond what is shown to what is unseen

locked in the foreground of words meant to confuse

with the confusion you will upgrade to the next version which is suppose to be the stupid down verision of the same which is something to which we know the name

propaganda the definition in two lessons never complete the reason for doubt in the claim

one sided information that is proposed or posed as truth

fed to the youth in the simlac that seperates mother from child,

brain devolopment remain unstatistized or verbalized less

Willing to be the pioneer, the  renegade, the bitch by name at least in the accordance to the media

The evangelist fanatical truth slayers, bomb layers, fear traders,

trading faith for fear,

selling you use of dreams to rip humanity from the seems of outsourced makers, even the sweet cakes have become homegrown outsourced bakers

Willing to be political for the point of history at which we stand when really life isn’t about this land

power or a the fight for resources of resource to one instead of another

resourcefully using resource is the source of creation

built nations and families for man (all) only different on the surfaces bearing resemblance of his climate not his intent, we were intimate before we were so different

Now that  conviction sick left to the old dying, watching bold be replaced with cold

where is our resilence to conformity

yet bleeding lips of judgement loud and dynamnic in naming the abnormalities

when it states it’s true desire within its components a, b, normal I ties

did you see that  the (A)and the (B) normally is how I ties to it’s community

it’s not normal for us to concieve of negativity yet it’s bred in our learning

taught with knowing, the ability to ignite old embers of hate

to give breath to past, history

sold version of his story

free gift of manipulation

I am no more worthy of this than you

to be the subjection of mental invasion

Someone has to go first

no stay you fathers, true dads cradling your childrens head

stay you mothers keep quietly you fight

for I am

willing to be the enigma, the insane uncooperative “problem child” who speaks to loud

stands out for love

will not allow you to believe I can be sold,

will not fold

will be the sacrifice

will allow myself to carry the load of revealing my soul

left out to be a documented amusement


fueled to hate

it’s not to much for me to consume

that pain you leave on the dessert tray

my plate has no weight

Without your pain that needs to be slain and released from your shoulders

Prior loud uncooperative’s, were the weapons used

so you could openly choose option abused

the hate they sell in those dreams that look like faith

using fear to get you to load  your plate with empty calories

no integrity to use for defense

no nutrients of living

no ripe natural sweetness to stain your lips with memories of positivity

selling you a dream you gladly buy

signed on the line to the creditor of living in the life by way of speech not heard on your lips

Found carried by women heavy memories of human beginnings on full hips

in between poisioned sips of as seen per the speculated

It’s bitter taste of previously remastered leaves me hungry

I am willing to be the rarity

go unfed until here authenticated is labeled

so you may close your eyes to the sounds of  ambiguity,

you now sold and selling the same untruth

You might do the crime

but I am willing to be the imprisoned, the persecuted,

electrocuted happy for  reviving pain

willing to be in the eyes of normal weird a living a and b tieing it self to normality

I took the bid so you could leave uncertainity, worries

I will do the time

be it’s bomb strapped to it’s core

i am willing to denate the ability to be heard,

the bomb of recognition, the human matyr of submission

willing to be rare,

willing to be fair,

willing to care,

willing to forfeit popularity

for truth, love, and sincerity

so you don’t have to

what are you willing to do..

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July 4, 2012 · 1:29 am