Category Archives: women

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

When We…. A Friendship Never Forgotten

The level of communication today

is why you are not so far a bay

Didn’t think I could see this present

When our hellos were hesitant, second to the addresses of president

When our love didn’t flow

and the contents of your heart I didn’t know

Not when we were sisters, not friends

Not when a I consisted of a we

when we were the three distinct parts of the holy trinity

When were nothing less than infinity

an eternity of love

a soul mate

a play date

a sibling when blood meshed thumb to thumb

when we were best

the knitted nest

the tie to vest

Now it is a longingly gone dry

a sad goodbye

a memory of desserted knowledge

Now just a story that begins

“This one time in college”

Love does not die

so why did we

the interaction

now just simple subtraction

there is a you without me

a divided we

a new part to you whole

our present a future past

a gasp, a ghastly silence

we were not literary

but an exact science

proven and hypthosized

Just when I realized that some heartbreaks

never die

the kind that doesn’t begin with carresses and obsessions of will they, who me

will she, but the kind that begin with us, you and me

so innocently

humbly

the days of the young in me that

is still living with all those memories you are apart

just a dart landed in at the bull eyes

Still wonder how and questions still end in why?

Yet the facebook is on my shoulder tweeting

and I am happy that I am apart of this social networking

for it networked me right back to you

so that I can piece together your present

now that our hello’s are hesitant

and the days no longer shared

for days lost

the cost

my end

my friend

my half of whole

my gaping hole

is left unfilled

others come and consume

but none ever you

known ever the five pieces of my youth

None to ever know completely my truth

cuz u have the proof

she has the proof

they have the truth to my youth

When we were girls

sitting up nghts

plaid uniformed skirts

lips pursed

phones hidden

hearts smitten with time

boys we called fine

and when my my heart didn’t seem to break so easily

when we defied the logistics of personality

and the true bond was the commonality that love was an acceptance

a forgiveness so bold

it was tangible. something to hold

never alone was I

you all were there

when life didn’t seem fair

we would share outside on dark patios

experimenting with the dark arts and holding on to each other

blowing tree’s, screaming lyrics from another

When we were girls

we didn’t know these women wouldn’t be sitting so far away

Didn’t know today would lend us seperately

or did we know but it ignored it with love and held on for as long

as the time permit

Life has a funny way of teaching doesn’t it

When we were girls

and things seemed hard

when we seemed fearless to scream let it ride no matter the hand dealt, no matter the card

brave, and loud

girls running lost

what women found

Miss those days of being a girl

Miss those days of you being my first call

Miss knowing that you will be there after all

or maybe I still do

I keep saying thank you

For being a part of me

You are apart of the root, not a leave, or even a branch

You are a the core of my tree, without you past and present

I wouldn’t be me

 

 

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Filed under a rant of love, women, Written Emotion

Design of Desire

Many people think of love as this romantic notion of chemical reactions that you feel toward someone of the opposite sex or same sex if that’s your preference or experience. They never see it as this divine understanding, or this unlimited source of power and that’s what it is. A source of understanding and power. Or at least that’s the understanding that I have come to, even a source of power toward one’s self, the more you love yourself the more powerful and successful you seem to be in my opinion or my understanding. Example, the idea or nature of hubris is a self love that is so beyond the norm it’s gotten a wrap that states that its  more arrogance, more than selfishness but an elite being with yourself that you actually believe that you are above and beyond what society has settled as standard and normal.  


Entrance of the design of desire, the design of wanting the element of the physical manifestation of love. The intricate and dynamic design of wanting to feel this thing that we can’t touch or put a physical demand or ideology on that which we can not see, what we can not touch. It’s a hidden glimpse of this thing that we are suppose to give freely and touch never. I desire the touch of my “Urban Prophet” I desire the look of his eyes directly into my mine as he hovers over me, as I allow him entrance into the places that are reserved for someone special, someone as a woman I am taught to save for marriage. Yet many of us decide to allow love to flow from our intimate places at the first twinge of feeling in places that were marked benign as we are growing up and learning that women are vastly different from men in the ideology of feeling and the design of desire.


Yet how true is it, how different are we from men, is their design for desire so different from the fairer sex.  My “Urban Prophet” has taught me that men have the same intricate designs of desires that we do, the same want, the same need, yet the force of  their design is much different in the impact of it. As women when we are disappointed, we find ways to regroup, remold and redefine or redesign as we approach different chances for another hidden glimpse of love.  Where men are taught at a young age to not disclose or claim the element of the feelings that they feel, told to hide and keep closed the door of intimate understanding. Told not to cry, to not demonstrate the defenses that we are told to embrace and understand. Loving a man can sometimes be harder then loving our children, because as an adult that claims no design of desire, they leash and frame the intimate tags as a fire that is quenched when felt if not harbored and feed slowly and kept contained. Their design still so powerful and can be so brilliant in its deliverance, if taught properly, if embraced completely.
So tell me, how powerful is love, how grand the design of it that it causes people to change, in ways of positive and negative. Causes women to continue to propel forward when disappointed again and again, and causes men such pause they are forever affected. What is your design of desire?
Mine is in his voice, in his walk, in his over all demonstration. It’s in the truth he demands in me, in the love he secretes as we couple. It’s in the power and conviction of his relationships with others, in his eyes as he demands a deeper knowledge of me. The design of my desire is in the words he speaks and how well he arranges them…. it’s the hidden glimpse of what I want in myself that is manifested in his actions. 

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Filed under love, men, relationships, women