Monthly Archives: September 2012

I am Who I am Becoming, not Who I was!!!!!!!!!!

Today I don’t have much to say about anything, today is about my soul needing to be free… I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I haven’t felt like flying, like reaching beyond the stars and beliefs that I can see. I suppose I am tired. Tired of people with their frowns and their selfishness… I guess at the end of the day you can’t expect people to treat you like you would treat the world. The worst of it is family and friends… what can we do to be better than the worse versions of ourselves. I suppose it’s just my time, just time to fly higher than the clouds have previously before seen.  I suppose maybe I am just angry, maybe I am just sad because at the end of the day I put myself here in this place where I need other people and I am tired of needing them. Funny how people hint at things and then proclaim themselves better because they are helping you when truly they are no better and if you were to be the way they are to you, they wouldn’t like you. Wouldn’t want to sit at the same table of your criticisms and your judgments of them. when I do unleash my judgments I try my best to not hurt other people, to not be the person that makes them feel worse than they make themselves feel. Or maybe I am working so hard at not being like my persecutors that I persecute them inside of my desire to not be at the other end of the beating stick. Change is not something that is easy but as long as you have an unsavory pasts people still hold the keys to the things that will make you sad and make you want to revert back because to be the best version of yourself daily is not an easy job, being conscious of your actions of your words and even of your thoughts is a hard work in progress. I struggle daily with saying no to temptations to being the ensemble in my cast. Quelling the quiet desires to speak harshly to behave badly. I suppose the best we can do is try are best to make the right decisions to forgive our own tarnishing images of the past.  I am empowered to not be who you think you know of me, but who I have become. No one is without their mistakes. SO to the mothers who feel like they are bad mothers because of mistakes, to past mistake makers who have given up life’s of not so good, to the children who feel that disappointments become image makers. We are not what we have done, we are a culmination of what we have done, what we have learned and what we choose to do today.

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Mama’s Baby… Daddy’s Maybe Bayyyybbbeee

So Here it is in the land of what ain’t right, try as we might to not hold the grudge to judge. Not snare a nose up to the others in falter of steps. Yet today I will follow my heed and complete the need to speak freely on the heffa population who make it hard for the true love, respect and loyal to the man in her heart female generation.

I try my best to stand with God and hold my head high and forgive those who bruise my spirit, those who have stolen from my light. Yet today my heart is wounded for another, for my from another mother brother.  His heart is breaking and caused a wave and quake to my soul. For a minute I was ready to catch a case. Ready to dock my wholesome change and rearrange my alphabet and teach a lesson old school style. Pulling my hair in to a ponytail, donning the heels and slipping into some running shoes.. Vaseline lining my pecan hue skin. I had a fight on my brain. Her face was wearing my fist and calling it by name. Begging me to release my fury. It wasn’t just for him, but for me as well. So many of us girls are looking for a man who loves us, will hold our hand if we ever have to sit on the edge of mattress love nest, and spill a truth that life grows within, especially if the daddy is not a husband, more just the lover kind. The kind that leave us unsure if his words and his actions will met up in the court of mutual affections. If the man is one day away from saying goodbye and the period that is suppose to conclude the sentence, and identify that this fate was just a date gone awry.

Many woman have been beaten with the expectations of a man’s desire to do the right thing. So many have lost that war the consequence of single motherhood, aborting the decisions of new life with a knife and others have been unselfish and given those children to other homes, yet many children are left in the arms of social workers who usher them to houses of love unwanted.

So you would see the bitter taste of disdain and disgrace as my phone rings to find my favorite guy friend calling to conform what I unfortunately already knew that his ex girlfriend, ex problem had lied about the new born baby he was told was his was indeed not and like that we are experiencing the in real life Maury show’s… You are not the baby daddy finale show and I could feel my heartbeat quicken as I begged of him to not take on this heart ache this deliberate heart break and lose faith in the us kind, the female kind, the gaping female intrusion interlaced fascination.  While I heaved and wanted to penetrate her understanding with slanderous words and murderous verbal slayings he just says, what can I do, and what would hurting her do with words of malice and hate. I thin cried silent tears for my old friend. A young man adult and fine, my best friend… a man who had picked me up on low days with words of support and love, the friend that my old bestie loved more than anything else back in our high school days. IN the midst of the anger and pain I felt, the hue of hate that lingered for this woman, I felt pride and admiration. My best friend had become a man wonder, a super hero, a model type pristine type fella for whom I would take bullets, for whom I would vindicate. My pulse quickens with the thought that some beautiful soul will miss her soul mate because one woman was selfish, unkind, unjust and just plain wrong, so i play him a song of love and a prayer of faith. Don’t leave love at the front door I beg to God for him, because a man like him deserves a woman wonder, a woman better than me, but who loves him with that same intensity who would not allow pain to reach his heart. For love is truly a lost art.

So this is for the mama’s with babies whom daddy is still just a thought of maybe he or maybe him. Be kinder to your body and be kinder to your soul. Most of all remember you just upped the ante, a dealt another card of life to the Poker table and your importance has become less. If you cared  a little more for you, and less for what… maybe a nut… you wouldn’t need to be victim or hero, demon or saint.  Even if you have to do it alone, make the least desirable of places  a home, even when it seems like tho you laid in a bed not by yourself but might have to raise the baby alone, that the baby, the child, that new life that beats is the one that will be casualty of the ware you rage…. So not just to the baby mamas who have lied to a man but the ones where it started off all love like narcotic style vibrations and invitations, ore even the accidental night of heat.. these men who actually do what’s right with all they have, and all their might… be kind to them, be honest and be true… Cuz I am not so forgiving to you… for you are a reflection of women kind and I don’t do mine like that. I want to love a man, be his ride or die chick, and if I am the one that he ends up with, I am snapping the whip and no child be used as a pawn… and you don’t one like me around… because if it’s to see my man… it won’t be, no the only face you will see is mine, and don’t be mad if your child is wondering where I am instead of you. For in truth, here the child is the first place and never a competition, there is no superstition with this… To God I give my truth… and I am not lying I hate this type of shit.

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I Believe I’ve Grown

Did you ever wake up one day and your heartbeat is different? It moves through a different rhythm of musical overtures and you look at yourself and you think how did I get here, Sometimes the thought brings about a feeling of pain and disdain, breeding the coup of bird like images from the nest thrown and drowned by the wind. Then their are times when smiles creep across your face one two and then the third true smile because not only are you different but you have wiggled your way from that old snake skin and the rough edges of your past is left behind. The walls in your room don’t have the same mocking eyes, mine don’t have those mocking eyes. Now they look back me a reflection of the pride I feel from within myself. Today I completed the first stage of my future. The reason why God gave me these hands and a bum foot. So I could sit still and write… Life Here I Come

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One Tree Hill (the reprise)

Another day is coming to a  close and my heartbeats are in plenty as well as my inspiration. Funny how now One Tree Hill which inspired me so much in the past year has become my therapy, my emotional reprise, my antidote to a bad curse of ill presentation and bad humanity exploits.  I miss my show, and I think I am mourning it longer than ever thought i would. It had become something of an om-age to splendid loving spirit and the powerful act of love and kindness. We take for granted how God can use the most common of things to teach us, to touch us, and I think that One Tree HIll somehow reminds me that somewhere in the land of thought and promise somebody gets it and that I am not the only soul trapped inside of this human body hoping that others see the beauty in being able to live. Our ability to be great, to choose love, to believe in something beyond ourselves is not just a gift but a contract to God. The way we live matters, how we live matters, because we are here to prove that we do appreciate the love that God gives us. It was just a television show some may say, but what it is doesn’t matter because how important it is to me is what makes it great in my eyes. So this is my reprise to another Television season and the lost greatness has suffered from its ending.

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Being Worth It

I am worth the most beautiful places of pain, worth the most felt places of perfect.

 I am worth it, and being worth it  is more than just one day, one decision.

It’s a string of decisions, a dozen of days.

I am fighting my inner desires based on my vision of me.

I live for moments to be more than just a heartbeat, more than just the skin and the bones that I am.

 I wanting what is being told to be inevitable.

I am wanting to be greater than my mistake, greater than the idea that life is no longer beautiful on the days that it’s beauty escapes me with unkind words, and tarnished hellos.

 Selfish portfolios of devilish pictures where I is the only subject and the background the scope of the land of thought is how to be better than the next rising star, how to be more than what is behind the focused visual image.

I want to be love in it’s kindest and most magnanimous forms but does it exist.

Does it even begin to thrive in the truth of our community.

I want to be the heartbeat of the movement, of the greater good, of the common truth.

I want to be here in these moments with my pen and leave behind the mistakes of my past the days that make me want to forget.

Yet is no more easy to forget than it is to rebuild.

I am not alone and I alone can’t change the world.

I let this become just a rambling of endless thoughts don’t make sense to anyone but me and I hope it touches the heart of someone who can feel the vibration, the soul, the writing in the ears of the pages of books already great.

I wish it be inspired, for being worth it

is not just today,

not just one decision,

it is tomorrow,

and

each moment,

each minute,

each hour

I choose to be worth itI choose to be worth it.

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