Category Archives: desire

Dream You

I see you as eyelids touch full cheeks, your face pecan Browning e it against flawless skin, a man of African American lineage made just for me, the tattooed story of your experience hidden by shirts by day, exposed in the dark night to my finger tips, a voice of cool resolve and baritone enticing and assured. Educated by books convicted by experience. A heart large ready to. embrace the passion of the love I have within, no judgment in soulful brown eyes. Your imperfections beautiful. In love with God, you believe in the spirituality of living, the goal of a human soul. Can lead with love, can disagree with grace and emotional honesty, vulnerability doesn’t frighten you, trust leads the line of the things that binds a man to his half. A team is how you approach marriage, ambitious, yet still willing to touch new ground. Fear is nothing more than acknowledging that faith is needed. The mistakes of my past just parts of who I become, total acceptance in those sexy eyes. I dream you real, I dream you of my wants. You hold me in a bed made for two where there are no boundaries on the things we share. Our connection intercepts pain, trust blankets US, protecting us from the devils seeds of jealousy and fearful mistrust. Nothing plant in our garden as we plant beauty of the fruit of spirit, the chains of live that link us to blessing… starting with kindness, then patience, the fore sight of forgiveness, honesty. Our bodies live in the touch of hands, sharing emotion through the elements of attraction. A life of sharing, a life of Ssupport. You back ideas  that further my professional goals, read my words, watch me dance, I sit while you work, cheer you on, celebrating each goal you surpass. You fears are whispered in our sanctuary and my bosom lays for you to rebuild your strength. I pick up where you leave off. I offer my body for you to crawl into when the world seeks to threaten what you have built. I am your shelter. In our home you Are the king. Your kingdom your greatest accomplishment. I dream you with an identity. A life with true characters, supporting and leading. I dream you of all the things a man for me would fit perfectly… accepting. Kind, sexy, humble, creative, loyal, passionate, accomplished , able to help me reach the goals I have for me, the writing, the degree, the desire to touch lived, take care of family, enjoy friends, be in love like living is breathing each moment slowly…. I dream you in the vision I see. I dream with purpose. I dream you!

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Filed under a rant of love, change, desire, Emotion, evolution, growth, life, love, relationships, The L Word, The Me Files

Awoken by Your Memory

Sleep finally shuts my eyes, the dreamy sensation of life touches my eyes, when I wake the night deep in daily secret memorizing movement. I am deep in thought. A smile sweet on my lips. Pandora beating through headphones song after song our songs.  Each a memory of the days we spent talking, days we spent learning each other, even hurtful moments that lead us to this, not speaking, not thinking of each other yet I still smile. Have spoken to your origin to your gift to the world but not you. The man who I dream if no longer you, now my mind fictionalized version of the type cb of lover I want to experience. He has a face a name casually drained from a desire of you, yet his qualities all a designed of all what you were to my life. How you ignited so much in my heart. So much in my mind. The love we share is thriving. We didn’t survive it in the form of relationships but we were up rooted from the thoughts of extinction. The dirt you say I pit on you is the lifetime we will end. I know you think of me, even now when I desperately want the phone to ring and it doesn’t. Even when I learn the effects of the illness that you looked on in the beginning telling me my limp was wrong, watching with care and concern to have me do nothing… it was you with a close appraisal of my well being angry octaves in your tone sat me an emergency room. Icy out call you will learn of what has come to be…. but  call rings through, no words from the man who thought ne to see myself through the eyes of worthy. Want to see you know. Want to hear the words of your wisdom. We saw storms in superficial haze of drugged euphoria….. I left those things behind in pursuit of a life you knew I could have. Even imperfect your flaws, your character moved me… our we is defining. Even in my dreams of live with. My ideal man you dwell as the first line of understanding of the kind if woman I am. I need you now. Not to touch the shaded beauty if my sex, not to hold my body against yours but to voice my fears, to do the thing we do, let our hearts release the rain, step IRS storm into the sea of our acceptance complete and UN restricted. In the world you have become a milk carton memory. Removed from family And friends… old live, dear friend my heart searches it’s terrain to send you the message of want, desire for you. Always have known the way your heart beats. I know the curve of your power,  and it’s time to walks. New road…. your welcome here with me, no intent beyond understanding, something God given… prayers leave my lips for you to find your way home!

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Filed under a rant of love, desire, Emotion, growth, Inspiration, life, love

Always With Me

I carry you in a place inside that keeps the monumental power of what your love taught me. A woman without a father needs the love you gave me. The kind of love that reached the places an absentee father needs a woman to have to learn her worth and beauty.  As I feel a new love touch my heart I remember the lessons learned in our journey. The promise of his arrival in your admission to my world is beyond the thanks and appreciation I can ever give to you. I knew in our first meeting I would be forever changed yet to know the true embrace of a love unconditionally given is worth more than all the riches I could obtain in this life. Out beyond a moon I can see… I know you live beneath its light. Without those days… the moments, those words I would not be a woman who knows what she deserves. To say I love you would be less than a million things I truly feel. No poetic prose could manifest the truth in the blessing bestowed in having experienced even the pain evoked by what we shared. You have become the beat of my heart, the strength in my character. No longer in love I finally can see the gifts you gave in leaving me without you in my daily life.  You gave me freedom to be who you saw in me. When the first intense sensation of emotion welled up in my chest grasping my release of our memory…visions overtook me. I saw your approval in the man that so deeply touched me with his admiration of who I had become…. I cried for you. Although we are millions of moments from our last touch, kiss you are there in my actions, in my words. We were the definition of souls intertwined. Our affinity was not about an earthly love. Our love gave me life and now I’m ready for a love that will allow me to live. I will never forget the reflection of me that came to life in the hollows of your brown eyes. I pray your heart hears my gratitude in loving me in all my flaws.

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Filed under a rant of love, change, desire, destiny, Emotion, gratitude, impression, influences, Inspiration

The Nutured Unkindness Of Human

The superior characterstic of humans is the ability to be feeling beings and the understanding of free choice. Combining the two traits we are able to not only survive but thrive as well. We are able to protray kindness, empathy, tolerance, and particpate in acts of unselfishness. The most powerful characteristic of Human Gene is our Advanced level of communication. Language and comprehension of emotion and logic with words, which we can also translate to print.  We dont really appreaciate This importante factor taking it for granted, using it as weapon of manipulation, pain or gain. It has become a weapon of emotional and mental desruction. We bomb our closest friends and family with small doses of lethal venom. It spreads through the soul quickly causing terimanal diseases of hatred, resentment and self doubt.
We use the multi dialects of tongue to crearte boundaries in our community. We are terrorist. Words have always been a silent trigger , appearing harmless until trigger is pulled and the shot is always precise. It may not wound are physical form, however the damage to heart, soul and mind can be devastating, bountiful in weight of its aftermath
We are an unkind species, full of arrogance and intelligence that quickly abandon our choice to be an example of how being apart of humanity can quell desire for pain.
Mothers demean and defy beauty in children by not placing a defining importance on integrity. We can define a new World of life like technologies, yet will impose a daily life shift enabling a souless Man kind. We haughtly believe that consequences of moral and humane offenses are arbirtuary. Countering ramifications recieved with self beneficial rationalizations that mask the absence of conscientious accountability.
True empathy has appeared to become an extinct subsequent thought. Individuals aggressively defend the “me” philisopy which promotes self identification, awareness and defense at the expense of all others.  We excuse once thought to be digusting and distasteful treatment of others with the “me” rebuddle. The survivor of the.fitest is now a survivor of the most connected and financially superior minority. We Project claims of bullying, prejudice, emotional manipulation, elderly abuse, child abuse, deragatory and malicious segreation of the “outcast of society” once catergorized by race, has Extended it coverage área to sexuality,  political ideology, outspoken idealist. Anyone against the forward movement of success and or self gratification of the benefactor can be targeted.  People Have become the new line of products to exploit for gain. The Human resource is the most profitable. The Human who lives the “me” philosphy widely employs the defense… If you are not for me you are against me.
Society by way of humanity is built on community of spirit, purpose and goal. Celebrating the opportunity to invite enterprise by offering one service for another, in the last century we have pioneered the self made all things,  requiring very minimal skill. Even the once glamourous World of art and.Entertainmen has sucumbed to the desire to captilize on the unkindness of humanity. Tv creates salacious faxes to remember celebrating greed and self indulgent petulent
No kindness in business, no accolades for Fair treatment of their gatekeepers of success.
Our loud, attention obessesed World finds critical opinions of llife experiences of our cult celebrities, leaders and next door neighbors as well a marketable skill.
All These things are the saddening Fore shadowing of the World that encompasses the extinction of a rare beauty that Human kind encompasses.

  The greatest artifacts of our history as human reflect the intensity of emotion, the insatiable hunger for the connection to the World in which they lived, and Why we lived at all. The journey to find the answers to profound and inexplicable questions.  Left behind are Chronicles of ritual and faith, the importance of Love and things beyond the control of Man kind.  We Have left humble beauty for ostentatious entitlement. A slow methodic, diabolical undeniable claim to influence and.decrease the power that being a free thinker illuminates.
We Have ability to reinvent the manic and self indulgent world we have created. 

The kindness of a morning greeting, the Good samaratin brave enough, to rescue or intetject in dangerous matters, the loyalty of listening, the sweet traste of compliments, the aftertaste of compatibilty, the dazzle of an awkward Hello; all These things that feed our souls. Families have begun to desacrate the lifeling commitment of unconditional love. Friends; the healing gift of understanding now are bargins of resource for elements we lack.
No longer ambitious for connection, just wealth,status and the no Holds, no regrets, aggressive “not before me” society. Humans will preach of freedom, yet with that same Word will alienate true freedom.
What of we, if not just mere creatures outselves. We create divides between ourselves and the reason we are here on earth. This experience of how those emotions and desires can become powerful shape shifters.  The idea of self is more than the individual, but the whole of our kind. We fail if not done By the tickle of kindness that is all to often not celebrated and nutured.

Our mouths are deadly with negativity, and spreading the debolishment of our greatest weapon,.which are the allies that we inherit. War is now at kitchen table, with guns through chalk boards, from heights of toll way bridges, at the bruised body of a beaten woman. Now instead of invest, we suspect. We ignore instead of embrace. There.are many successes made up of selling devil dunked dreams. Many stories of Love lost to lust.  Many people left to the taunting of being different of being without the resources to better.
We salivate to lofty ideals rather than harmonious realites. We are numb to the effects of poverty and sadness. We find hollow humor in the failures our fellow humans. We become resilent to the design of dog eat dog, each Human for themselves.
In between the neglected cracks those faithful risk takers, defy the conforming attitudes. They build there family of like thinkers and for those few spared minutes or hours they still promote the things that reflect not What u Have been sold but to reflect a society that lives not in Its ability to conquer but to surrender to alliances, kindness, prolific understanding, soul touching music, anti-discrimination warriors, and the most beautiful prophets of our time, poets, writers, musicians.
It began with our unkindness in Just there small prespective of one on one interaction, however like any wide spread contagion, it has bellowing ripples that effect the professional,.personal any other relative interaction with others.

If I speak to you with kindness, my
Love actively enables our alliance, strengthens our emotional bonds, extracts the defensive anger that .opens avaiability for lost of trust,  devaluing character, manipulation of honesty. Your words, your actions,.your.philosphy, your course of every accountable action is a part of who you are, What your brand declares and they type of future you will develop.
Many leas By thought, I leas By heart. Every person I encouter will recieve the kindness that is not so much what they deserve.. yet I owe humanity.

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Filed under a rant of love, blogs, change, Choices, desire, destiny, gratitude, influences, life, love

Inexplicable

Did I imagine your sincerity? Or Did I Just fall victim to the ageless disease of a woman loving a Man who while loving me will never be in Love with….me. It’s a beautiful pain. Wills your faith to a strength that causes non believers to embrace miracles. You learn lessons of unconditional love that humbles your perception of humanity. The importance of appreaciation is visible in your attitude. A woman in love with a Man who seems to not see the love she would provide, yet still in that same moment of lost dreams drowned by tears, will Bless that love he so strongly Feels for another. This woman will open her arms, whisper in his ear… Allow her the best parts of you, and I pray she see’s you.  
Did I imagine the connection shared? Its inexplicable how a pain can give you a growth that enables your belief in destiny. Or is it Just me? So madly lost in…. This… This feeling I would testify is love, but unable to recieve. I admire it, it owns Its on lifeline. It breathes without me hosting it’s needs. My days dont eñe without a thought of This man. His truth, his clase, even the Love he gives to another amplifies his image in my eyes. On his worse days buried. Beneath life, I feel his struggle. Do I imagine the finality of This condition, that This thing I testify as love will stay with my movement, my being. It only ails me on days that I forget to breathe, the days that he taught me to embrace and never ignore. The best of the worse amount of dissonance you can bear will remind that fruits are not of labor but tenacity. Some love you dont get to choose to forget, it marks you. I wouldnt choose to remove the experience of his scejt left behind, his
vulnerabilty only revealed poetic mumblings, his life intertwined with mind. No tears as refreshing as the those ayer for him.
I admire This love, that has been born and grown strong. It has survived our murder of kindness, our rape’s of intimacy. Our slaughter of blessings given. We tarnished puré golden monents with denial, yet We thrive, still answering When the calle are places, still try to understand how the acceptance of This beautiful pain can be anything other than sintul. I know I should go and he knows he should allow me to be able to be whole. Yet Love so unselfishly selfish holds on to Its core value of inexplicable reason and meaning. Its prayer of ability to surrender to faith. When Its time for This thing I testify is love to complete it’s course it will go quietly, speaking a soft goodbye. It will go with patient respect of me.
We cant define, decide or delegate Its purpose, introduction, presence or partner.
Some Love isnt What We create, some love is What We cant escape, What We Want to be, What We need to Keep going…Its remnants kept alive in our altered preception.

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Filed under a rant of love, change, Choices, desire, destiny, Emotion, growth, Inspiration

Door to Footprints

I seek the moment of paradise, yearn for it’s beginning. Strive for the belief that beauty is beyond the seen, the evident, the instrument to life. My heartbeats are strong, although they seek to weaken it’s steps, weaken it’s faith. They ask me why I speak of my heart as though it lives, as though it walks daily. It may not have it’s own feet, own legs, but’s movement and vibrations are loud and independent. It’s resolve has the will power to move change with lost pints of nectar. I find no lost in it’s sabbaticals. When it returns it’s ability to teach me lessons is beyond those people who claim love, who preach belief. My heart is it’s faith in God. It’s faith in me. Heart prints are portals to lives before lived, to days already written yet undocumented. The Baring of my soul is the opportunity to believed in the down trodden underdog. That underdog isis me and I believe in me.

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Filed under desire, destiny, Emotion

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

ALDAY

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

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

ridiculed

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

The Arriving Man

As a woman I live in an understanding of my emotional culture. With each documented moment I live binding a library of books of my experiences. Something I find on my journey are moments of interaction with men in my community some of them from homes broken and others from families assembled by time and others in the traditional make up. The black man has been the consequence of negativity and forlorn thought. The black man is an elusive entity of strength and as the community of my peers evolve from young men to men it’s most powerful era I look at the elegance of transistion and the opposition of being a  legacy of decisions that maybe the men before them took. I am a woman and I like other little black girls were left to become women without the presence of a man in the home. Yet as God provides me the gift of  his love he has shown me the new understanding of the black man who has shed the heavy coat of prejudice and the cotton of a too hot life when trying to get  to a moderately comfortable temperature in there atmosphere of being the man on the outside of privilege. These arriving men whom I have named arriving because through the storms of history and disrespect and the lack of support These men truly need they still come through those foggy moments hoping and trying their best. They even arrive to the storms of us loud talking, strong willed, fatherless and fathered mess of understanding women.. Yet as a woman sometimes loving that man who needs so much love is hard but see him as arriving.. Why? Today I hear more men say… I have full custody of my baby… insert son and alot more in my world insert daughter. They breathe for these children, facing the disappointment of being not enough or not having enough in the dank aftermath of heated summers of no lemonade stands and no baseball games on shoulders of that elder likeness and those of us who live amongst the on the streets of father non-applicable to me… cuz I don’t know my daddy we know the pain of being apart of a single parent home and feel the strain of traits not owned by mommy. We are the generation of change and we are changing our outlook and we are fighting loudly with  the access of technology,,,, I am proud of us regardless of these colored skin suits. And I know in the colonies of different hues lives homes broken and children hearts broken by the choices of those who are our key to lifetimes of lifelines that teach us how we think, and live and celebrate life.

SO it’s for the man arriving in your world as well, those colored life coffee, deep and brown those with layered choices with skin so bright and illuminating, those have culture built in this soil, their heritage with their land stolen…  so do not be left out. Yet my fondness for these men made so much like me with deep brown skin, shadowed eyes and hearts of solid beaming gold left hidden with cavities of teflon. My little boys who have taken the stereotypes and made them enterprises, took the grid irons and concrete courts from games to headlines and fame. Those growing boys turned men with need to fight and survive instead of drive and arrive are still beating down the hot block with hearts that want to be home, want to know those kids even when they laid down to be incarcerated by women who still have the learned lesson that men leave… don’t believe, don’t grieve, left to live with pain than to have it eased. SO many days they sit with breaths caught in chest hoping to slang enough, dunk enough, take enough to be the present father and not just the donor who fertilized a egg with his seed.

Yes I want you to be the best man you can be, yet I also see the struggle and desire to aid you in knowing your worth and those small things also mean something. The desire, the attempt, the faith, the hope, the strength and the experience you both show, and provide bleed your love. As women we can nurture those strengths. Your power is in the love you feel, the meal you cook to quell the hunger, the sex you indulge in to show him the importance and need to not just your heart but your body.  The love they so seldom vocalize but will always show in their resounding baritone as they ask where we have been, if the oil has been checked, how they will walk on the outside, and do their best to apply what they have never learned but know in their hearts is right. Just the fight to live will show how much many desire to not be the stagnant typed without the stereo for its never displayed how much it hurts to have to say, not applicable and does not apply when it comes to the language we can’t identify whether it be fatherly or motherly love. This community of strength taught to survive… we need to learn how to thrive, be our own resource of love… Move away from the belief that we must be the dog that dined on the dog of circumstance. Must unite if you want to fight and win.

A generation passed full of daddy’s rolling by home home to collect stones they were made to believed were jewels…NO HOME IS WITHOUT IT”S STRUGGLE… and no parent meant to create and mold life alone. These men are a special breed, descendents of man made Achilles heels, robbed of identity, used as common artillery, bred to do the work of building empires of which they could not call home and while slavery had died on the dark hot tar we call pavement… it has already been paved and if not actively fought will remain submerged in hate.

No this is not about slavery for we are each free.  wanting to make a loud noise in the sake of revolution to be another block of words strung together about being the victim looking on to the inside with too much fear, too much pride and just enough anger to be forced to grow. I am a woman among many women with matching skin id’s and similar history, The women who love these black men, lets us the be their place of  love make his house his home so he leave behind his spot, his crib , make our homes kingdoms. Not with things but with those jewels of love… we call them support, trust, forgiveness, loyalty, kindness, tolerance and self control. Let us use our action of physical love with fortitude and and be the woman who sees his heart and chooses it above all. Yes we women have pains and hurts, yet me make the time whether right or wrong to sing our song, some constant singing his wrongs. Each replay comes with a fine of his worth, and time for he sees your pain and despite what all continue to think… a man in love with a woman in love with him… is not afraid to speak freely when she wears her priceless jewels daily and shows him the ultimate jewel is him.

… why do you think these men stay with you even when love didn’t build that home. Even as your belittle his masculinity instead of just telling him your pain. Why do you think they are not so quick to divulge in (sorry about my language) sharing the true power of his magic wand , his sword you’re so quick to use in a scheme to shut you down.. ONce it’s been offered you no longer hold the cards… he already  has part of your heart. In no way am I taking away  the power of a woman, a black woman who might look something like me…

I know your pain, I know your need… and part of our want is based on that man you desire… so open your eyes and see him arriving and love him gently. Promote his power in your world, Provide a safe place for his emotional vulnerability so he may use it has the secret weapons to slay his enemies and practice love in your words, needs, and actions… Show him that even know love has its flaws and you certainly don’t take lies, abuse, or negativity. Just do it the way love would.

For the world in which he lives and struggles to be seen as a equal… befriend him… he is a man just as you… regardless of the clothes he wears, his choice of song, his difference in opinion. He is like you really the only difference is his flavor. Regardless he is arriving, from shallow graves of mis conception, perception , and infectious outbreaks of humanity and their ignorant thinking.

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Filed under a rant of love, change, desire, Emotion, evolution, motivation, opportunity, pain, Positivity, preception, relationships

"My Urban Prophet"

So, I am in love with this man, and even I don’t believe that you can be in love alone, and this is the intimate glimpse into who I am. It’s the part about me that actually tells the world that he is the reason I want to be a better person, the reason I want to breathe, the reason I believe that I can be a good mother. He demands that I am better, he demands that I live up to the potential in which I was born to thrive and he is so much beauty. Beauty that comes from a place that even I can’t identify more than that of a higher power. He has allowed me to believe in that the kind of love that is beyond reason and understanding. 

The funniest thing in the world,is that he does not feel the same things for me. He is so hurt and so blinded by the past that he wouldn’t be able to see me. Today I told him to disappear into the ashes of burned euphoria. That he disappear into a horizon never realized. I am tired of loving him. Tired of not hearing his voice daily, not breathing his understanding and beauty daily. I have tried to be stronger, tired to to better…but I can’t mend the broken man that he has become. Can’t mend the doors to love that he has cememented shut. What of your power Nya Duality? What of that utmost power that you call love. Even I can’t answer that question because even as I say goodbye all I see is hello. I see a morning of promise that is devised and comprised of nothing more than him lending me my smile, breathing in the love he created with another woman to only teach lessons of love that will conqueor what the world can offer. Money, has no barrings on the things that we could accomplish together but i bleed the wounds of dishonesty and discourse from lain moments with women not known to my birth, not known to my beginninging. Women who are curtly not me, and not apart of the love that i feel for him.
Upon the first meeting I had of him, I was not impressed by his looks, not momentarily engaged by the way his head tilts to the side when he is confused. I was quite not impressed with him at all, but the beat of his heart seemed to walk into a intersection and mine seemed to see his and followed and fell into step and our hearts seemed to pump blood into each others body and I was at the second day of our conversation quite sure that I had met the man that I was going to marry.  It’s crazy to say these things when the man does not love me, but if I was even a little honest with the world, like I am honest with myself… I believe that to not be true. I feel as tho he loves me just as I love him.
My “Urban Prophet” who can see the world coming toward him, who sees the pain of the world and I swear he was put here to save lives, to change the world and the way they see things… The new voice of religious understanding. He says quite frequently that an angel is someone who has seen hell and does not want to go back, he seems to know the bible by instinct and believes things that the world should understand and live. He is the truth… some days I think I am crazy to believe these things about him, but if you are in his presence you can feel it. It’s not a game, not a joke. He is the truth. He inspires me to write millions of love letters, and not just for me but for the world. Together we are premonition, intuition and thought. Sounds crazy to you I am sure, but I can prove it. Shall I tell the story of he the prophet and me the dual enticed mind. I can probably get a check you all might think I am so crazy. I am in love with this man. He has children, that i love like they are mine and he is the most beautiful part of me. I promise.

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Filed under desire, life, love, religion, unrequited love