photophobia

they call me ocean
deep
strong
free

seemingly weightless
my heaviness hidden
revealed
only to those i allow
to see underwater

many have tried
to understand
the beauty
fullness
depths

all fail

throwing insignificant pebbles
aimlessly
trying to penetrate my surface
not knowing it takes more
much more


i conjur strong currents of thoughts
knock them over with knowledge
send tsunamis when they get too
close

choosing to swim without a life jacket...

they drown

this ocean
within lies joy
and pain
angst
and love

love that is
deeply buried
depth unknown
heart residing at the bottom
swaying with the currents
miles of waves separating it
from closest subject

wanting to float free
but knowing it can't stand the light
years of darkness beneath this ocean
has allowed photophobia to settle
stir
grow roots
convinced that no

one

would be bright enough

until one day
a light pierced through
no forewarning
caution
or blinking light

just bright

this beam
warm yet blinding
through sharks and sea
it delved deeper

penetrated the surface
traveled the ocean
hitting its' aim
my heart

one bright spot
in an ocean full of dark

that's you.

reductions of self

with intensity you gaze at me
hoping i have the answer...
willing me to say the right thing
to keep your anger from skyrocketing

but ... i've never been good under pressure.

placing all your hope in me
to be something i'm not
will only lead to the breaking
of BOTH our hearts

and ... i feel a tear.

it is tiny
almost undetectable
but, like an unseen paper cut

it stings like hell

knowing i can never be enough
shatters me.

to know that i will never be your ideal
lover, wife, soulmate
has me reaching for

unattainable goals

to be what you want me to be...
the way you want me to be it.
which isn't much, ironically

so i find myself imploding
folding and molding
boiling myself down
to bare minimum
adjusting self to fit into your
impossible little box.

... i'm trying baby
i am.

i look in the mirror
and know that it's impossible
to reduce myself...

to divide and deduct
until i have stripped
and subtracted
all that makes me

...me

i am an overabundance
of all the things you believe
are wrong with women 'today'

too strong
too confident
too expressive
too sexual
too open
too free
too ... me

so where does this leave us?
or leave me?
guess i'll keep on
dividing
dwindling
hiding

...replacing strong, confident and expressive
with flaccid, complacent and non-progressive

pushing
smashing
stuffing them into your
impossible little box ...

hoping that i can fit into your
small world

...cause i love you baby.
and i'm trying, i really am

for i want to be your all
i want you to love me for me
even if that me does need to be 'tweaked' a little

...isn't that the word you used?

i'll try to be light
make my thoughts not so heavy
my word not so steady
my mind not so unready
to live in the confines of your
thought process

then will i be enough?
or should i say not enough for you?
if i reduce enough
will you love me like you loved them?

if i spend my nights preparing your meals
instead of my chapters for my novel
will you smile once more?
if i am the perfect stepford wife
you've been looking for?

i know i can be her...
just let me downsize a bit
i know i can be the perfect woman

...the perfect fit

i'll throw away my knowledge
all my world views
hell, i won't even watch the news!
so then, baby will i be
reduced enough to not be me

...but the shell that you want me to be?

this night

I sit huddled in the dark corner
my shoulders bent under the weight
of your heavy anger.
i cry in spite of myself,
for you are my uncomforting comfort zone ...
i have gotten used to your hard edge despite the pain

you look at me pitifully, false sorry in your eyes
as you attempt to kneel down and look sincere.
i have no use for you, yet still i held on as if
you were pumping the very air in my lungs.

this night is different though.

there are no apologies, no regrets,
no begging pleas for forgiveness
i look at you and feel ... nothing.

not the blind love i once felt
that hid all of your ugliness from me.
not the devotion of all the years
i looked foolishly forward to spending with you.
not the utter elation that made my heart leap with joy
just to be in your presence

nothing.

i am spent.
no words have been left unsaid.
no emotion left unfelt
this night.

rain pours in the darkness outside the window,
a gloomy reflection of our last fight's tears.
you form your mouth to say something that might change
what we both know is the outcome,
... but wisely you walk away

i have no desire to hear anything you have to say.
drained from years of listening to your excuses.
funny how thin the line is between love and hate,
i didn't understand that until this night
knowing all along in the back of my mind
that you didn't deserve me ...
i continued to love unconditionally

not this night.

this night i am sick of your sorry ass
this night i am beyond fed up
this night i won't submit to forgiveness after just one kiss
this night i leave you no choice
this night is the breaking point

this night ... it is over.

i wish ...

i wish i could erase all the beings
that prevent us from being
intertwined for a lifetime ...

wish i could see the sun's rays kiss your face
every morning as you kiss mine ...
wish i was your only satisfaction
when you needed sexual healing under the night sky

wish the space that separates us was just a few street lights ...

i wish i could undo all the hurt that you've ever suffered ...
and if i couldn't undo it i'd absorb it and be your personal buffer
wish i could take the prejudice you've encountered
and make it not matter
wish i could allow your eyes to see only happily ever afters
i do ...

i wish for you ...

for my days to be filled with your scent on my skin
and my nights to be filled with my scent on your chin ...

wish i could press an eternal remote ...
capture you for a lifetime or so
pause it for us ... then hit play and let you go

i wish your most intimate thoughts were of me
and you shared them with me in private moments of intimacy
i wish our pasts had no impact on what the future will be...

wish that i could rewind to a place where time was divine
wish i could make better all the wrongs of your life
all the mistakes you've made and had to endure consequence
i wish i could go back to that day ... that hour ...
and give you an exodus

i swear, i wish for you ...

wish i could rub in your hair
stare in your eyes
believe it when you say you're not like most guys
how I wish you knew how much my soul yearns for your guide ...

i wish i could see my son's smile in yours
for you to pass him all the life lessons you know ...
so he too, won't have to endure.

i wish to sit and watch reruns of bad tv with you
when age has faded beauty
and wisdom has replaced youth ...

if wishes came true ... king, i'd wish for you.

anemic

being emotionally anemic is hard.
especially when you have someone
relying on you with such fervor...

-to supply their heart's beat.

every step you take has to be right.
every word said so fitting;
a big task that has me drained.
growing weaker by the day.

-i cannot pump your heart and mine too.

this anemia is affecting me.

so much effort goes into being your lifeline
that i neglect myself,
cause internal bleeding
that i cannot afford.

i can't be your sole source-

this anemia is affecting me.

should have read the fine print.

Okay okay
I give.
I can no longer handle the stress
the mess
the arguing

so...
I give.

That's right, I give.
I give up all my friends
male friends of course.
Because since they're male
they HAVE to be up to something, right?
Platonic friendships do not exist, right?
Right.

so... I give.

Oh, the outings I attend?
I give those up too.
Because what on earth do I need to see people
that I talk to on a forum everyday for, right?
Sure, we all share the a passion for poetry...
but MALE poets only write poems to get women, right?
And women only go to see the male poets, right?
Right.

so... I give.

I give up hanging with my best friend...
she's too pretty. And I'm pretty right?
So naturally, two pretty women will attract
waaaay too much attention from other men...
and other men are the ENEMY, right?
Right.

so... I give.

I am hereby giving up my freedom...
the time spent at poetry venues
will once again be right here with you.
the once-a-week gym workout is null and void too...
the lunch with a guy friend I've known for twelve years...
ladies night out with my girlfriends...
all wiped out.

I give already.
I give up my right to do what I want when I want.
I give up my right to talk to interesting people..
I give up my friendships... new and old.
I give up my poetry...
i give up my life...
Because, after all, those involve other men right?
And evverrrrybody knows that no other man on the face of the earth
can be trusted around YOUR woman, right?
Because that's what I am, your possession, right?

And look what I'm gaining!
I've found the ONLY man on the planet that will faithfully love me AND treat me right, right?
So of course it's worth it, right?
Right.

so... f*ck it.

I give.

john and me

his Sentimental Mood reflects my own
he is my mirror, most nights
alto sounds alter my state.
my pen glides fluently,
fingers tap to his rhythm.
notes cascade like waterfalls...
submersing me gently
emerging my truest thoughts
reminding me why his is
A Love Supreme
on those nights i am Naima
writing to his back-beat in half time
my words as smooth as the notes in his song
i am in character...
a beautiful queen
a sexy temptress
a unhappy wife
a loyal husband
a misguided teen
i am in scene...
inspiring melodies that inspire
poetry, clear thinking
and tears of love lost
he improvs and i improv;
sad jazz and smooth blues
mingle with
short stories and sweet poems
showing true Selflessness,
he plays only for me..and my words
late into the night
Soft Lights & Sweet Music
melt my blocked thoughts;
they flow freely
when he's around..
just John and me,
outside world fades
creating mood and tempo...
for whatever moment I'm into
filling my eardrums with beautiful-
i convert them into words
i call useful
urging me to take Giant Steps
in Summertime,
one ride on his trane
and brain cells create
fingers spring to life
until prose and poem and fiction
are done....
our cadence in rhythm
until document is saved;
thoughts are complete..
i smile
as we both experience
My Shining Hour.

brown skin...revisited.

this picture would be so sweet if i had my afro when we took it. ^^ shame.

this is a repost, but i was just asked to read this at a poetry venue. ya'll think it's good enough? i've never done it before besides in front of my friends and a couple family members...so this will be interesting. i'm nervous!!

it's called Brown Skin....

your skin
reminds me of smooth rides
down my favorite secret path,
no speed bumps, no potholes,
just long, unadulterated,
brown terrain.
your skin
draws me near,
i can't help but touch it.
smell your fragrance-
the mixture of strong, real man
and freshly changed baby.
i inhale,
breathe in the essence of
your skin
as smiles creep from cheek to cheek
revealing 32 perfect pearls
and the dimple in your left one
where my lips nestle
when i kiss you as you sleep.
your skin
feels like silk
that has been a little worn..
not quite as soft as mine
but, man soft,
kissable.
tightly drawn over
perfectly sculpted cheekbones
that lead to bright white eyes
that sparkle when you smile.
your skin
that is almost the same exact shade as me.
that sometimes gets
white with ash
but i just smile at another reason
to touch
your skin
as i spread baby oil
and massage the brown glow
back into
your skin
ripples down your torso
over abdomen muscles
that coil when you laugh
as you're teasing me for being
'ms. horny toad',
not realizing that only makes me
want you more.
i love
your skin
that covers biceps
hardened from lifting
all night at work,
but still fit me perfectly in their crook.
your skin
that tastes of....
indescribable man candy,
my favorite flavor.
your skin
that i love to kiss
lick, suck, caress
under covers
with the light on
so my eyes can still adore
your
brown skin.

annnnnd... ya'll got me on a roll with that Sliding Doors story so much that i practically have a book written! lol. shame on it all. i will post the next chapter tomorrow and a few more after it. then ya'll might have to buy the book...lol.

peaces people! :-)

undiscovered

sometimes...

sometimes...

when days drift by endlessly

and my subconscious starts to rule my thoughts

they are of you.

Long after hours have passed since the last time

our bodies danced....i can still feel you caressing my skin.

still inhale remnants of your sweet-breathed kisses on my collar bone.

sighs linger deep and i smile...

what ifs cloud my brain as i rearrange time in my mind,

rewinding and aligning it so you and i can exist for a lifetime...

in my dreams we are perfect.

We outlast everlasting.

you sing to me beautiful melodies just a little off key

i read to you the stories of my mind's creativity.

i can't hold in the laughter you erupt from my belly

by just being you...

you make me smile.

Heaven only knows how many nights with dreams of you

and dreams of nights with you i've had.

heaven only knows how my soul aches thinking of the reality of our reality,

how space and opportunity never can nor will be a possibility.

still, some would call me happy.

I'd agree mostly.

But sometimes...

when days drift by endlessly

and my subconscious starts to rule my thoughts,

they are of you.

euphoric cognition

breezy wind blow cool mind off
my subjects of distress wave bye in leaves
watch them float by like cumulus clouds
when you're around
on sunny day...dark...light...dark.....light
spotting my world with gray...then
sunshining it with your grin.
moments of kisses sweet against my skin...
brown limbs entangled on white sheets glistening
brilliant explorations of your discovery channel mind,
broad and expansive like shoulders that hold
most beautiful face i've ever seen....almost pretty.
keeping count of click click of camera as you catch life stills...
of my essence my nakedness my laughter my smile my bad hair day
so i can rewind and reward for each moment and replay.
flip flopping of sandals against concrete as you say 'pretty feet' with
each step of manicured toes you painted with love and steady hand
i look at you and think..."damn that's a real man"....

pssst...can you see him in the pic? cool huh?

are you listening?

She is crying.
Can you hear her wail?
Her pleas for help have gone unanswered

but I'm listening...

trying to be her lifeline in the storm she's drowning in
15 years of dysfunction have clouded her judgment
have caused innocent thoughts to become tainted by calloused old hands
running up her thigh

can you hear her cry?

It is loud, vulgar, full of obscenities
as she struts her stuff and calls herself the baddest bitch
it is clear...
erupting from a half naked body that developed
even faster than her promiscuous mind.

I can hear it through her sexy whispers in ears of young boys
who tell her that her ass is phat.
in her eyes as she looks up at men old enough to be her daddy,
heavy statutory breaths telling her her kitty is all that.

I can hear her cries

hidden beneath short skirts, makeup and blonde hair extensions,
she tries to stifle them.
they ring loud and clear though,
begging us to not make her act like the girls in the videos
that shake it for ludacris
pleading not to have to let everyman touch her for a hairdo
Screaming every time yet another undeserving boy hits it then forgets it.

I am listening.

Trying to reach out
trying to scream above her screams
calm her cries and let her know she is worth waiting for...
worth working for...
letting her know she is too valuable to be given away
to the next low bidder

I see her tears,

leaving invisible stains down dry cheeks
her expression grieving and hardened at the same time
as she pays WIC coupons to the cashier
while balancing her crying baby on one hip.
she is yelling, screaming, reaching,
for somebody, anybody to love her.

Are you listening?

there is a story behind this poem....but i will expound upon that later.

hope you all are having a fabulous day!

i found me in you

Loving myself

was never something I was good at.

not really

not until you...

you taught me how to reach

skies, stars, self.

how to expand

thinking

money

power

how to love life

love self

I was young,

a little naïve...

you molded me.

told me stories of

life outside my box

dared me to step

jump

leap

into myself.

so....i did

discovered a young woman

bursting with untapped talent

unbridled passion

willing to learn from mistakes

willing to love

to be loved

to express in ways

I never knew

you introduced me to

myself...

told me to take the hurt

I'd inflicted

internally

and outwardly express

pen to paper

line after line I wrote...

amazed at the enormity

of emotions freed

by black ink...

encouraged me to

let it go

let it out

let me out...

I will always appreciate you

even though your flaws were many

and plenty a woman tasted your love...

not many experienced your soul.

the broken wounded boy

the one who jaggedly traveled through

many monstrosities...

beaten down,

broken spirited boy...

who made gold

out of clay

his sadly sculpted world

he resurrected beautiful

you let me in...

I found myself

while journeying to your heart

and I just want to say thank you.

moody monday: poems and memes

hello all,

i was browsing some meme blogs and i came across this one called curious as a cat that has a lot of monday memes. i've decided to do one since my mind is so muddled with other issues right now, i still need a few days to sort them out and get them on paper or my computer screen. but, this should lighten the mood. lol.


Can you think of a time when your heart and your mind told you to do different things? Which direction did you go?

spelman college, 2003. my heart told me to stay in atlanta and finish my education, be with the one i was deeply in love with. my mind told me to return to michigan and go to school, be with the one i was....well, with. i chose to go to michigan thinking it was the 'easier' choice, and i regret it immensely.

Who are you afraid of?

God. and the subject of my last post. him. i shouldn't be, but i am.


If you could have taken one class in school that you didn't (or couldn't), what would it be?


african dance. i know i would have enjoyed that class.



this is a poem i wrote long ago about the situation in the first question. thought it was fitting.

A THOUGHT

yesterday i thought of you...
smiled, thought back to when
i was the yin, you were the yang
we were inseparable.
you were my first everything
real love, real kiss, real passion
not puppy love though
we were the real deal...
remember our 'spot'?
crazy, our passion led us there.
you were unexpected
thought i could never like someone like you
arrogant, obnoxious even
only a cover up
delved deeper, took a closer look.
passionate, romantic, intelligent.
although, a real ladies man throughout
you were never fully mine
i don't like to share...time.
like a draw for the heavy-weight title,
not totally fulfilling.
but i miss you.
been many rises and sunsets since
but still,
feelings run deep like the nile
numerous tries,
but still can't shake it.
remembering the emails, calls, letters
your touch, your kiss, your goofy laugh.
our time spent
doing nothing and everything at the same time.
fast progression made my head spin.
you were a steamroller,
flattening my perceptions of proper time scale.
two months same as two years
on our calendar of emotions.
from 'hello' to 'hey boo'
before the season changed
there were bad days i'm sure
arguments, attitudes
those i do not remember.
they have escaped me, allowing only good.
nostalgia hits me hard
has me wishing i could rewind
find the glitch
make us last.
never fully understand
what we could've been
i know what we were.
a special moment locked away in my heart
sealed in 'do not open' file.
and now, just a thought.

in the meantime.....poems and such

okay so i'll be back later with a real post...but i've been muy busy and i haven't had time to write anything....so, in the spirit of sharing, i decided to put up a few poems that i've written.

the first i wrote for an erotic poetry contest (and i won, can you believe it?). the hilarious thing is i hardly ever write erotic pieces...but for some reason they liked it. don't be alarmed, it's a bit much. lol. but anyway, yay Muze! enjoy!



THIRST

when i thirst
i wake your fountain...
sliding tip of tongue
along hardened angles
coaxing it to life until it swells
with your man milk honey..
prime for drinking..
i sip of your chocolate faucet,
curved like such..
suck of your sweet life nectar...
and i thirst no more

the second is just a poem about being the first to say those three little words....

THREE LITTLE WORDS..

pacing the floor
deciding whether or not
i will go through with it
pick up the phone
dial seven numbers that lead me to him
then hang up quickly before the first ring
forget it, i'm through with this
but i really wanna do it
but what will he say?
what if he laughs?
-or worse-
what if he says thankyou
nah, he won't..he's sweet!
just do it you punk!
dial once again
he picks up first ring
wait! i didn't have a chance to think!
a cheerful 'hey' flows into my eardrum
an unsure 'hey' stumbles from my lips
my heart pounds.....thump, thump
just say it you punk!
he says he was just thinking about me
i smile
says he misses me, can't wait to see me
my heart smiles
okay, i'm gonna do it
what am i waiting for?
i have to express this
but wait! why hasn't he said it?
it's been four months...doesn't he feel it?
he's the man of my dreams
says i'm his come true
we laugh, we talk
we have GREAT sex
so what's the deal? just say it!
but what if he doesn't feel the same?
what if i read things wrong
what if he was just saying
he could see me as his wife?
what if he wasn't being 'literal' when he said
he wants me in his life?
but what if he really does mean it?
still, i shouldn't be so aggressive
stop being so expressive
let the man take the lead
but man, i just gotta tell this man
explain to this man
why i lay awake and watch him sleep
how my whole day's thoughts are
consumed with him
how i feel empty when he's not around
how i'm on the brink of tears
everytime he goes down...
or does anything physical to me for that matter
doesn't he want to know
that i think he's a king?
shouldn't he have the knowledge
that he's my best EVERYTHING?
i just gotta say it
i'm going out on a limb...
no! don't be stupid
you can't just let him in...
i'm so confused
just don't know what to do
three little words, that's all it is
but i punk out, conversation ends...
i sadly say bye and start to hang up
but then out of the blue...
he says, "sweetie, i hope you know I love you."
my heart leaps and i respond "me too."
and say, "i knew it all along boo."

now, if you haven't voted for my fiction blog for BEST FICTIONAL BLOG in the Black Weblog Awards....go do it!! please? lol.

my favorite people, my favoite things, and your favorite blog!

so i normally don't post on fridays...but since i promised the homie organized noise that i would partake in his meme for full-disclosure friday(you're right it was harder than i thought it would be) to list ten things that i like about myself, here goes nothing. sounds easy, right? well it's amazing how many flaws i can come up with compared the the near soul-searching i had to do to retrieve these. lol. wow. we're supposed to tag five people and say nice things about them (as if) lol....so mine are following my list.

i also was challenged to write a poem starting with the line "i found you on a weekend." so, it is also in this post (extra goodies for the good readers today! lol). so, read it and let me know what you think, kay?

and lastly but not least, i've been nominated for a BLACK WEBLOG AWARD! yay! no no no, not this blog, my fiction one. the one i reminded everyone i had last week or so. well thanks to everyone that nominated me...i luv you to pieces. but now, i'm afraid i'll need you again. lol. now that i'm a finalist i need your votes. so please, if you haven't already checked out my fiction blog, do so. then head on over to the black weblog awards voting page and vote for me! all you need is a valid email address to vote. while you're there since you have to vote for all 30 categories, please show Afrobella, Blogxilla.com and Daily Views, Pop Culture, Rants, and News some voter love. those are the homies.

thank ya! hope everyone has a swell weekend...and let me know what you like about yourself...should be interesting. lol.

10 THINGS MUZE LIKES ABOUT MUZE

1. i have an undying sense that 'everything will be okay'
-it takes a whooole lot to make me mad. but not a lot to make me laugh. this has proven beneficial to me in many cases where i should have been crying....seemingly serious things that would freak out other people usually just cascade off my back. i deal with things, but i don't panic. i just have an understanding that things don't always go how you plan, and even when they're really bad, i know i have someone looking over me every step of the way...so i just don't sweat it.

2. i actually like to eat healthy and exercise
-i am FINALLY entering the time in my life where my body is thankful to me for all those broccoli bites i ate and carrot sticks i snacked on. when i run my whole day is better, i have a sense of accomplishment and peace. seeing as though i used to eat only ice cream and candy (preferably twizzlers) or broccoli and salad and could never gain a pound, now that i'm older i've cut out the candy and i still enjoy my broccoli and salad.

3. i'm a good writer.
-it's taken me a long time to admit this, but i can honestly say that i like my writing now. i used to look at other writers (and sometimes still do) and think 'maaan i will NEVER be that good! now, i have accepted that i have room to grow, but when i look back at my earlier writings, i can see that it has come a long way. i can express myself very well when i'm communicating via the written word...which is helpful in todays IM/text/email era.

4. i am passionate.
- in everything i do, i have a goal in mind and a love that drives me and i pretty much do it. i try to do everything to the fullest extent. if i write, i want to be a bestselling author. if i run, i want to win a marathon. and when i love...i want to make that person feel as though they are the most special human being on the planet...and i want to feel the same. (which could be why i so hopelessy romanticize everything and every relationsihip i have). i have a soft heart for most things concerning black people and children, and i will do everything in my power to help those who need it.

5. i am very open-minded
-even if i don't agree with someone on a certain issue, i can still understand and see their side of things. if someone who is a christian and is against atheism meets an atheist, usually their first reaction is to have nothing to do with that person. mine however, is to learn about them. i like to know at least a little of all aspects. i ask questions. i think the differences that make up people are fascinating.

6. i have a unique sense of style
-my closet is my haven. i looove to dress cute/fashionable, but i always add my own twist to it. even in my most laid back outfit, i am fashionable. people think i try hard and plan out outfits and all this craziness, but i don't. i just wear what i think looks good, and thankfully it does. lol. guess i'm making up for those bluejean suspenders i wore on my senior picture in high school. ha.

7. i believe in myself
-believing in yourself is very important to me. my mother instilled this in me and i have had the 'i can do it' mindset since i was young. i know so many people that are soooo talented, and yet they underestimate themselves all the time. second-guessing myself is not something i do. i believe that once i put my mind to something, i can pretty much do it...and this belief has helped me to achieve goals many a time when there was no other encouragement.

8. i am a good person.
-if someone needs me, i'm there. if someone loses money on the street and i see it, i return it. if a friend needs me at 4am to ride by her stupid boyfriend's apartment, i'm up in pjs on an all-night stakeout. i feel like karma will do me justice in the end and i enjoy being able to honestly say that i am a morally sound person and not have a guilty conscious about it.

9. i'm naturally good at pretty much every sport.
-...except basketball. i can get the ball in the hoop if i just stand and shoot, but ask me to go up against some girl in a one-on-one, and i'll fold. besides that, i played four sports in high school...all i was scouted for except softball. i played volleyball from 7th grade up until my junior year in college and received several accolades and awards. now i coach it. tennis and softball i like...and i'm pretty good at both, although volleyball is obviously my main love. being athletic has kept me slim, toned, and in great shape...so i can't complain. lol.

10. my feet are pretty.
-couldn't think of a last thing until just now when i looked at my sandals. i didn't realize how much i liked my feet until i started going with my little sister to get pedicures and the people would always compliment me. all those years of never wearing high heels cause i thought i was too tall and never wearing sandals cause i thought my feet were too big have paid off. they're beauts! lol.

BONUS!
-ok so after the whole feet thing...another one suddenly popped into my head. sooo, more goodies for you!

i know at least ten songs in almost every genre of music.
-i looooove music. my only discrimination is that it has to be good music. (although as of late my frequent head-bopping to t-pain has lessened my credibility..lol) i used to be in a singing group, so i respect the process that an artist goes through to convert a few lines in their head into a beautiful-melodied song. stevie wonder is by far my favorite artist, but i think that if you look hard enough, you can find amazing music in almost every genre.

now. the five people i am tagging are:

mwangangi- the sarcastic genius. every post i read of his i gain another wrinkle in my brain. lol.

blog portland- seriously, one of the funniest people i've ever not met. the quips and comments he comes up with are hysterical. i actually look forward to reading his comments when i post cause i know it will be something crazy. seriously. and he's cute too! (hands off ladies he's married). lol.

porscha- sweet, intelligent, and amazing writer. her creative non-fiction is sometimes better than i can come up with in my fiction! lol.

brown blogger- for some reason, he fascinates me. very honest in his posts, intelligence to boot, and i love reading about his travels. the hip-hop rolling stone. ha. he probably won't repost this...but oh well. we still love him. lol.

blogxilla- the homie! he's hilarious, candid, and all around cool dude to know. he's nominated for a host of weblog awards, and rightfully so. PLEASE check out his 'Planet Formerly Known as Pluto' series. slightly mean, but you will crack up. i promise.

************
i usually don't rhyme in poems, but ah well...

"i found you on a weekend"

i found you on a weekend..
sitting comfortably all alone
though my weekday blues still plagued me,
i had to make it known

...how you captivated my senses
urged my inner child.
sitting with you that saturday
i finally released a smile.

too many things may cloud our brains
with the monday through friday humdrum,
but you offered me a piece of serenity...
had to see what this would become

we spoke of politics, news, and pleasure,
you asked me to give you a call.
and though i normally don't invite strangers in
you saw right through my wall.

two weekends later we were inseparable
would never have imagined this happening
you made my soul smile with every moment
showed me all the joy i'd been missing

years later your gaze still comforts me
you've become my best lover and friend
i look back and thank God that i stopped to breathe
when i found you on that weekend.

sunday morning love

i have a question.

should love be 'natural'?

have you ever met someone, and from the moment of your first words exchanged, it just seemed as if some kind of magic love dust had been sprinkled on the two of you exclusively? you immediately clicked, as if there was just an undeniable connection that the two of you shared, along with cohesive views on life and love, cracking up at the same corny jokes, even bonding over your mutual obsession with butterfinger ice cream and the CNN political news ticker.

well, due to certain events of the last month of my life regarding my relationship, and the relationships of my siblings, friends, and coworkers, i have been thinking very heavily about this whole 'love is hard work' thing.

call me an idealist, but it seems to me that love should have a certain amount of 'natural feel' to it. it shouldn't be all work. now i know that of course keeping a relationship interesting and fresh and love new requires some work on both sides. but should it be ALL work? should it be a JOB just to love your partner with the same intensity as they love you? i have always been a believer in destiny and soul mates and finding your 'perfect match' (and i think there are several 'perfect matches' possible for any one person), so i guess that is why some things have been troubling me as of late.

you see, i've experienced a natural love. the kind of love where things just kind of fall into place. i've been in the 'just be' love. where the initial newness isn't the only time you feel like you're floating in the clouds. it doesn't just wear off with time because you two share the kind of intensity that people look at and say, 'damn.' if you disagree with each other, you can talk about it without someone's blood pressure rising. now of course 'mama said there'd be days like this', but how many days like this is one too many? how many arguments based on your core differences/beliefs is just too much? how far of a gap can there be between your similarities and personalities and compatibility before you say "you know what, we just aren't meant to be."

i do believe that marriage is hard work. but that's understandable. when you get married, several other factors are involved. you have bills together, accounts, mortgages, children, legal documents. so i can understand why people say that 'marriage is hard work.' but should the love itself be just as hard? is it okay to settle for a good relationship with a good mate....or should we all be striving for a great relationship with your soul mate?

how much work should you invest? is it possible to 'grow' to love someone as intensely as you would if it just happened 'naturally'? maybe i'm delusional. maybe i've just been fortunate in my experiences with love. maybe i'm just being foolish. i just have to believe (because i've been there) that 'easy' love does exist. easy like sunday morning...or at least sunday evening. lol. that's what i want. more importantly, that's what i deserve. the question is, is it possible to build that....or is that something that fate decides?



i wrote this poem a while ago, but i can't say it doesn't still apply to some degree.

the missing piece

there is a piece missing...
i should feel tipsy, right?
the love bug should FEEL like something,
right?
the automatic flick of the switch
in my heart should click,
right?
where are the butterflies?
sweet hellos, long goodbyes?
smiles, hugs, cuddles, adoring stares?

-did i miss something?-

shouldn't there be moments?
time stops, heart drops, outside world fades
lost in love?
where are the long walks in the sand
on the beach
with interlocked fingers and hearts?
where is it?
candlelit dinners, poetry sharing, museum exhibits..
naked beauty at 3am with strong arms, mind, spirit
telling me i'm beautiful...

-where did it go? was it ever here?-

soul searching 6am, bible study, and church at 10
comforting silences, stolen glances,
sexy ear whispers in crowded rooms.
shoulders to cry on in bad times
arms to jump into in celebration
encouraging, believing, achieving....
together

-SOMETHING is definitely missing-

long heart to hearts have been lost
in our busy lives
no time for relationship matters
'just because' gifts morphed into
'i'm sorry i forgot, i'll make it up' promises
gone are the
cherrystrawberry aphrodisiac picnics at sunset
rollerblading on the strip..
whenever, wherever, i want you NOW passion..
lip biting, sheet grabbing, sweat dripping
explosions of nature....

-where is it, dammit?-

intelligent convo, subjects
politics, religion, self-awareness, society
strong morals, opinions, respect for each other....
home training, home cooking, home making..
working hard to provide, but still making time
to rub my feet...
beautiful poetry flowing..
speaks only positivity towards me..

-i am seriously missing something-

strong black man...
got my back AND my front
i got his too..
handles his business
boardroom to bedroom
from, hello mr..to whaddup my nicca!
got his shyt together..
vibing to the roots, jay z, aerosmith and coltrane
without missing a beat
real man. real woman. best friends.
the missing piece of my life..

-where is it?-

not here.
excitement, passion, longing
have all fled
a shell of what we used to be...
a photo album of happier times
is all that remains...
very 'significant other' has become
under appreciated 'spouse'
need to find my missing link..
yin to my yang..
i know it's out there...
just have to find it....

my missing piece.

why i would never date a spoken word artist...

in an effort to do some last-minute bonding before she leaves for college and enters the world of marathon study sessions and co-ed living, i asked my sister if she wanted to go hang out for a night with me and hit a local poetry venue. she was excited of course, because she is 18 now and eager to do 'grown' things. so, i called a friend, we got all cute and headed to hear some spoken word.

being that i know most of the popular poets and spoken word artists in detroit, i knew i would see some familiar faces. and i did. saw some people that i haven't seen in months, partly due to my transportation difficulties i have been experiencing as of late, and partly due to the overall hibernation mode i've been in since december of last year. it was nice seeing my friends. everyone was there in full effect; locs freshly washed and pulled back with their tie of choice, head scarves nicely rolled or piled atop heads, natural oils rubbed in all the right spots, worn notebooks out and ready to be read.

we sat down, ready to be wowed, or at the very least to learn a new word. (it was open mic...so not everyone is a professional, but most usually have pretty good content). nodded appreciatively at the first dreadlocked poet with the cowrie shell necklace, ankh tattoo on his heavily muscled arm, and solemn look, and prepared to be enlightened.

he opened his mouth and every jaw dropped in the place. not because he used some 23 letter word that we didn't understand. not because he had a dreamy barry white-type voice. every jaw dropped because the first words of his poem were:

"girl, i wanna fuck the THOUGHTS out your head."

and it only got worse from there. yes, that was the first line of the poem. (god i hope he isn't reading this). the sexual expletives that came out of this man's mouth could shame a porn star. i couldn't believe it! i mean, yes, he is a man, and yes, he is a poet. and yes, he is sexy as all get out. but you can't make me believe that's all that he possesses under that gorgeous head of hair. apparently i was the only one who held that point of view. i was surprised that i had never seen this man at any venue, but i guess i was the only one, because EVERY woman in the building had recognized and was fawning over this man. he received so many finger snaps, hand claps and toe taps it sounded like a small stampede was taking place.

it didn't get any more wholesome after that. with the exception of a few excellent poets,(who i have to admit made up for the wack ones), it seemed like everyone had taken a sip of some kind of love potion no. 9 and suddenly felt compelled to out freak each other on the mic. each and every poem described, in detail, how they could lick your body into submission, make you melt from just one word of their twisted tongue metaphors, suck with a force that would make dracula jealous, or become so 'into' you you'd start sharing pores. ( i know).

okay, so is this what the art that i love and nurture has become? merely another way to get a body to bounce on for the night? i guess it does make sense though. if i was a man interested in penetrating as many erykah badu-ish women as possible, i would hit the poetry circuit first. the amount of groupies these guys and girls are getting for saying a few cleverly put together sentences is astounding to me.

it irritated me so much. and i guess i shouldn't be judging people based on what they write poems about...cause there is a niche for everything, and a little sexiness is appreciated every now and then. but wow, i felt like i was at friggin erotica night. so much for me trying to show my sis some 'deep' brothas with sense...rather than those knuckleheads that approach her. i would have been better off taking her to the club, at least then we would have known what we were walking into.

afterwards, all i could see was horny poets and poet groupies picking each other out of the line-up, deciding who would be on the receiving end of their 'black pride' tonight. whew.

what happened to all the poets? where are the real mc's and artists?

guess pimping doesn't discriminate. it sure is cleaning up on the poetry booty. (thanks j.r).

brown skin

your skin
reminds me of smooth rides
down my favorite secret path,
no speed bumps, no potholes,
just long, unadultered,
brown terrain.
your skin
draws me near,
i can't help but touch it.
smell your fragrance-
the mixture of strong, real man
and freshly changed baby.
i inhale,
breathe in the essence of
your skin
as smiles creep from cheek to cheek
revealing 32 perfect pearls
and the dimple in your left one
where my lips nestle
when i kiss you as you sleep.
your skin
feels like silk
that has been a little worn..
not quite as soft as mine
but, man soft,
kissable.
tightly drawn over
perfectly sculpted cheekbones
that lead to bright white eyes
that sparkle when you smile.
your skin
that is almost the same exact shade as me.
that sometimes gets
white with ash
but i just smile at another reason
to touch
your skin
as i spread baby oil
and massage the brown glow
back into
your skin
ripples down your torso
over abdomen muscles
that coil when you laugh
as you're teasing me for being
'ms. horny toad',
not realizing that only makes me
want you more.
i love
your skin
that covers biceps
hardened from lifting
all night at work,
but still fit me perfectly in their crook.
your skin
that tastes of....
indescribable man candy,
my favorite flavor.
your skin
that i love to kiss
lick, suck, caress
under covers
with the light on
so my eyes can still adore
your
brown skin.