So I have began to fall back on the inhale and exhale of the nicotine silent killer… The new commercial featuring the removal of teeth plays in my head… And then I realized… The more time I talk on the phone… The more the drags extend themselves…. The more I talk on the phone the more the desire to suspend my lungs at death expectancy sooner calls to me…. So I amended behaviors… Indoors, movies, a book something else and now my pack a day I had stepped up yo has been reduced to the impressive number of a pack per five days… The glee in my heArt is profound… Screw you nicotine… I will kick you yet. A girl is human dome days are harder then others…. But I’m making strides.. Oh cigs… We gotta break up… I just don’t want this type of love in my life… You stink… And well u just don’t do the things you use to do.. I mean.. You don’t Dorothea my tattered thoughts… You make me see toothless men, you remind me of dirty days and broken highways…. In the height of morning we may meet… Or after a delicious meal… But doing the meals will be less and then you will be a distant memory… I really just font think I want you anymore!!!
Category Archives: evolution
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!
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.
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..
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.
I have acquired a very keen fascination with the power of the moon, stars, sun, water, earth and how we as people relate to those aspects of our earthly experience. A couple of months ago I was introduced to a book by author Gary Goldschiender with the title… The Secret Language of Birthdays. At first glance it was just a personality profile based on your sun sign, however I was so fascinated with the accuracy of the profile that I decided to read further. I have always been very much Gemini however I was born on the first day of the cusp so I am dynamically Taurus as well and Mr Gary. He had the goods it seemed. I went further and further into the understanding and the power and the documentation of the effect of the natural elements and placement of the stars on our personalities and the fruition of our desires. The more I learn the deeper my addiction to acquiring an understanding of how we are effected by the world around us. Our ancestors of times only told by books of history may not have had i Pods, or computer processing units, yet they had keen insight and paid very close attention to the details of the world around them.
We have all felt the difference of moods when the moon runs high and full. It seems that it is no coincidence. The moon, the tide of the water, the pull of it to your mental and physical stability.
My very inherent hubris nature demands that I research my understanding more and more. With self understanding I feel more empowered, more understood when I look into the mirror and I see into my own soul. Can’t embrace the differences of others until you embrace the differences in your self. It’s about owning the elements of self love. Loving myself has been the hardest of all things to do and I am very tired of running from it. As a result, I today took a closer look at my moon sign. As it would seem all the things I do, are just in the portrait of my personality… that gives me a feeling of resolve and peace. We all know that we ultimately make our own decisions. The power of the drive behind those decisions is very important as well.
I have always said that I was a crazy button, triggering emotional chaotic activity. It’s true. Finding that my over indulgent personality was already written sure did take alot of pressure from my drooping shoulders and latent intellectual mind. Even that is stated. The funniest part is that there are so many people who were born on the same day at the same time and while faces may change, and the names are labeled differently. Knowing that someone out there may feel almost identical to me, makes me feel like I belong to a special club. So all this emotional instability was written as well and after all that I just got to thinking. What if? Now I am only saying what if, for I have no concrete hypothesis and no valid factual documented convectional proof of this, somewhere in my heart I feel it so clearly to say it wasn’t real would be a lifetime fight that I would stand for. I have this nutty idea that we all were predicted….