Tag Archives: God

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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Take My Spirit: You Can’t

I hear the footsteps of your pain, muddy with resentment, discontentment
A heart untouched by kind words,untouched by appreciation for what you give
The rain outside of your windows eternally fall unable to be sheltered from the picture you have painted to the world that fails to provide you the sunshine you need to grow and forgive
I hear them loudly in your tone
In your hurtful words
Your shield from the arms I open to protect you from  that downpour
Inhale my love, change your picture
Together we can clean your shoes
Clean away the dirty toils beneath your sole(soul).
Here we can change the forecast of our tomorrow
On our knees we can pray
I will stay within your grasp
Won’t leave you alone
Will set a new tone
In my willingness to be your umbrella in the storm
I feel your core
Feel the beauty you have lost
Just living in that rain
The insurmountable pain
Take my hand
I demand the light to shine within our time
Here we will endure bad, make a path to fine and arrive in the brightness of the sun
Vulnerabilities left with fear
Its time I share with you my faith
Its were my smile arrives
Its wear my pain is released
Its why my shoes are clean
Why the tears always end in a rainbow
Don’t live in the thunder, in that hurricane
Within is how we rebuild
Where we must heal….

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Wrath

the wrath of God they call out loud.. leading flocks by fear

Hasn’t it become apparently clear

that the wrath of which the bible speaks

Is the wrath given by you and me

the wrath of the world

The wrath of the rich on the poor

the gift of inadequacy…

the wrath of friend to friend

when loyalty falls short of forever, and the end is sooner than the “When”

we accepted…

The wrath of God is showb in how we made of his image

result in the scrimmage emotional distress of lving

Born into Original Sin, and the acts that keep us living in that good  old sinning that we love so muich

we forget to touch  our hearts to spirit

Can you hear it…

the real wrath of God is love

A love more perfect tthan we will ever be capable of…

Constantly falling short.

Making the mistreatment of our fellow man soime sick spectator sport

Physical, mental, and emotional crimes committed browned flesh, and hopeful ideals

The use of currency to create the urgency of competitive greed

while other sit and yearn for things they need to survive

Food, belief, relief

To feel complete

All vital to the beating of a heart

the value of life

how we smile when we arrive….

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The Presence of God

Whether I step foot in church or not… I find a way to give Sunday mornings to a worship of God.
So many ways we find ourselves in a fight to hold on to our spirituality. In a world where Misery, sadness and pain is documented in ways that it finds us in all the ways we receive information.. Tv, phones, music, conversation, social media, books, magazines. If we don’t remember to stop and think of the things we have struggled thru, triumphed from and see the immensity of how when we least expect it, we experience the beauty of faith, conscious and belief. I look at my little niece and I see the miracle of confirmation in her growth, her love pure in innocence and I recognize that no moment. no day did God leave me without his very presence. A new year is always a good time to reflect on where we began and where we have arrived some don’t realize that the hearts desire has be sated in some way whether appreciate it or not. The place you worship, doesn’t matter.. I have went to different types of churches or even just via the internet and the refreshing feeling of getting that time with God is still there and replenish my soul to keep my soul, my heart and my mind within his protection. I smile when I think of the day I held my hands up above my head, palms exposed, chin to chest tears running my eyes and I prayed to God with no requests on my heart, just thankful that I had allowed my heart to be open to him. That day changed me, and it changed the entire energy of my life. Your relationship with any deity is yours alone. Never be afraid to give faith and belief a chance. It will change the vantage point of how you see everything. Be aware that God resides within… He gives us unconditional love and expects that you give that same thing to not just him but your world. See the difference in your days when u seek to Love as God loves you. If we all did this.. We could really have World Peace! Merry Sunday…

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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

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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Born 1st (today) Gift of a Big Sister…..


The Beat of drums dying in the distance create the collage of illustrated thought. Moments of memories waving in between to short perfect movies scenes and life altering kisses that take our breaths away.  

Your drum is not lost to a fading beat… it is still strong in its pulse, hitting the pavement of days with immediate and striking balance, igniting the fusion of sexy saxphone calls and serene keys of the pianos classic and notable emotional cords. The music of your soul knows no limitation of the land, bares no notice to the heated and desperate calls of negative. Your music is the soulful mixture of your desire, your faith, hope and belief in the miracles of love. The ripening of your mind only increases each year when you celebrate the anniversary of your birth. A collage of your journey.. triumphs, struggles, and movement. Today is not just about how you got here, whom the vessel was or the lineage left behind. Today is a collected memoir of thoughts and changes. We celebrate the core of your being, and the love that created the home for the soul that lives within..

A sister is a common oxymoronic entitlement of ownership bestowed by right of birth and the espionage of genetics. As the first-born of your inherited tribe you have been the pioneer, the liaison and the basis of cause. The path to tread and the vote to acquire. As the youngest I have lived in the well of your presence, yet have warmed and been soothed by the care of your parental knowledge. I have acquired the blessing and curse of leadership that at times have been nothing more than a pain in the side at my time of battle. Yet it has also been the healing to wounds that only a sister could heal. In our embrace we have found and learned the art of the un conditional form of living that is blind to resistance. We resist not to forgive. We resist not to love. An embedded army stands at my side, as you are a soldier for our happiness, even when we are the ones that cause you pain. You have been the nurturing alliance when the enemy is the our common exchange of blood, dna and bind that is tied to the presence of learning to go with the punches, rolling over then into complete triumph. The job of a big sister never dies, never lessens in its demands and never quits with few benefits and no place to mark complaint. Yet being the little sister gives me the experience to say… that had you not chopped down those trees and found those caves of passage.. I would not be able to write, not be able to be the rogue free spirit that I am. Without you taking on the pains of growing up first… I would not be able to come in pick up the slack.  Your just being is a gift to our family.  And as today will quickly become the past, moving so fast, today is God‘s way… of showing you the love that he feels so unconditionally just for you. A quick reminder that at the moment of your birth, the stars aligned, the room went silent, the light began to shine, and someone we both know well… said… “My baby girl, she is all mine” and that is eternal, beyond this life, not to be lost in death… it’s so powerful… love that it’s the only thing that doesn’t need the present as a gift.. for it outlast time.

To My Oldest Sister with Love….

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