Fine

What else am I supposed to say? That I’m tired of having to explain concepts that should be common sense to a grown man? How about that? Is that a good answer? No? Then I’m fine.

You call me passive aggressive. You think I'm being over-dramatic? I think you’re aggressively stupid, passively oblivious and dramatically disconnected from reality.  You're either willfully ignorant or a complete asshole.  Or both. How about that?  Is that a good answer? No? Then I’m fine.

Can I say that I have found myself in a situation for which there is no outcome, no series of choices that won’t lead to a painful, complicated mess? Can I say that I have been backed into a corner in every possible way?

Each time I manage to find a ray of hope, a glimmer of optimism I get smacked in the face by cold hard reality.

What else am I supposed to say when you ask the dumbest possible questions?

What else am I supposed to say when you ask if I’m okay when you know I’m not?

What else am I supposed to say when you ask me what’s wrong, when we both know what’s wrong?

You know what's wrong.
You know what's wrong.
You fucking KNOW what's wrong. Why are you playing games?

Insult to injury. Insult to injury.

The initial offense isn't enough. No, you have to make me feel dumb on top of it by pretending to know not even KNOW what's wrong. Or that something is wrong at all.

Infuriating. Maddening. Excruciating.

You pretend to be concerned and confused. You want to feign ignorance and I am forced to play along or appear emotional and irrational.

"Are you upset about something? I can't imagine what could be wrong.  I certainly didn't do anything."

I guess that means I’m fine.

Fine.

See Me

Something about the way you look at me
Tells me you see the girl I used to be
Before I gave so much away
The girl that I was yesterday

You see the virtue that once was mine
Long before circumstance and time
Before regret became my muse
And Cynicism skewed my views
I need to be who it is you see
The girl you see when you look at me

Sometimes we need to see ourselves through the eyes of another
One who sees only our good.
Some who sees the beauty inside that we forgot was there
The innocence we thought we lost.

That is all.

Perhaps

I could be kind
I could be cruel
I could be innocent
Make you my fool

I Put A Spell On You

I did it
I did it
With time left to spare

Made love to dear Samson, then cut off his hair

Cruel Tongues

Beat my drum
   Fill my space
      Judgement fails
         Memories erased

Hear my melody
dance while I play

What a lovely bed we now must lay

Peace be still
my heart beats, still
when time stands still
she loves him still

Melodramatic passive aggressive guilt trips
Cruel tongues tear souls like steel tipped whips

The words got caught and made me choke
Cloud of vapor
puff of smoke
It cracked then shattered
busted
then broke
the scream broke the dream and I awoke

I crumbled to pieces on the floor
he called me his love
he made me his whore

It popped It dropped
It Floated then fell
Divorce without marriage
5th circle of hell

Gravity makes no apologies
Reality makes no mistakes

Shit
Goddamn
Mutha
Fucka

Fell flat on my face.

Real Love

Real love is not an emotion.

Real love is a decision.
Real love is an action.
Real love is not found in what we feel, it is found in what we DO.

Real love forgives.
Real love is patient.
Real love is kind.
Real love trusts.
Real love believes the best.

Real love does not expose fault.
Real love does not rejoice when a mistake is made.
Real love does not say, "I told you so."

Real love does not bail when it gets hard.
Real love knows the grass isn't greener on the other side.

Real love has an attitude of service.
Real love does not seek its own pleasure first.
Real love looks to make life easier and more pleasant for others.

Real love does not brag about its own goodness.
Real love does not keep a record of the mistakes of others. 



Roses will wilt, hearts burn with guilt;
Satin sheets will grow cold; young skin will grow old;
Mistakes will be made, and passions will fade;
Angry words will be spoken, and promises broken;
Tears will be shed, insecurities fed.
In the midst of all this, there is one small twist…

Real love does not fail.

Single Mother's Day

I don't have any words of inspiration to single mothers. I don't consider it a badge of honor. It's hard and thankless and hurts like hell. But, that's life. That's just the way it is. You do the best you can with what you are given.

I love my son. He is the most beautiful thing in my life. The one thing I got right, through no doing of my own. God's precious gift to me. Doing this alone was nothing I would have ever wanted, but it happened just the same.

I got pregnant at 18, by a boy that I later realized I really didn't even know. At the time I thought I knew him. Thought I loved him, thought he loved me too. I suppose I did love him at the time - to the extent my young heart understood love. We were just two dumb kids playing with love and sex. It never occurred to me that what we were doing would forever change me. I didn't realize I was making life decisions. I was just having fun. Being young.

Time goes by so quickly. Like a flash of light 11 years pass. My son. He's so funny and smart. He makes me laugh in spite of myself. He reminds me of all the thing I used to love most about myself, before life and experience took the last of my innocence. In him I see all the potential I once saw in his daddy. He's loving and compassionate. He's good kid, you know? He's a good boy. He comes and hugs me just to hug me. He brings me flowers and tells me he loves me.

To be loved. To be truly loved, unconditionally. I am SO BLESSED. He looks at me with such compassion and affection. He trusts me and needs me. I am strong because he needs me to be strong, so I find a reason to keep going. He makes me want to be better. He's watching me. How I carry myself, how I handle my responsibilities. How I allow myself to be treated by men. From me he will learn how to love and accept love. The message he receives from me will color how he sees the world. I have the responsibility of molding and shaping him. That's an awesome and often overwhelming task.

There are days I stress from the moment I wake up, until late at night when the anxiety keeps me from resting. There were times when I would I cry and cry until I forget even why I started crying, and all I could do was wait until exhaustion took over and at last I fell asleep.

So, yeah. I'm a single mother, a “baby's mama” and all that.
I'd like to find the fool that coined that phrase and beat the hell out of him.

That is all.

My Alter Ego

Beauty and the Beast, Jaguar Rose... Damn, she's a handful... You just said a mouthful...You want kisses? She'll give you a mouthful...

She might fight she might bite
unless she gets her way
Try to run with all your might
She makes you want to STAY

Can't lock her in a cage
Can't hold her down with chains...
She's feral - unpredictable
Sometimes calm but never tame

This flower, this beauty
This mysterious minx
She's a fairy she's a pixy
Your good luck charm and your jinx

Her petal are the softest, her natural scent like morning rain
The end to all your suffering the SOURCE of all your pain

Delicate and tender
Hot and soft and moist
Her eyes will draw you close
She leaves you with no choice

A smile that makes you wonder
Is it a trick? Is it a treat?

The black cat in your path
Be careful! She's in HEAT

That ravenhaired vixen, a beast between the sheets
She's a hungry little kitty...
...and you're just a piece of meat.

Why I Don't Date Nice Guys

Most every guy thinks he's a nice guy, just like every person thinks they're a good person no matter how much of a self absorbed jerk they are.

Just because you keep a job, don't lie, cheat or smack your bitch down doesn't qualify you as a nice guy; it merely means you are an average decent human being. Stop looking for gold stars and applause for doing that which is most basic and should be inherent to all civilized members of your gender.

Guys who like to label themselves "nice" are constantly whining and complaining about how "nice" they are and how no one appreciates them. SHUT UP! The reason your ex broke up with you isn't because you were too nice to her, it was because you were a boring wuss. She didn’t really mind you being nice to her, the reason she sent you walking is that you’re a dork, but because you were so nice she felt the need to spare your feelings, and “you’re too nice” sounds a lot better than “you’re boring me to tears.”

Think you're a nice guy, really? Let's explore that further, shall we? Are you volunteering at a local homeless shelter? Reading to the blind? Visiting the elderly or terminally ill? Cleaning up inner city parks or mentoring kids? Nope. You’re probably not doing much of anything for anyone but yourself.

Using that “I’m a nice guy” line tends to be a back door creep in because he’s too insecure to knock on the front door like a man. He’ll start out as a listening ear, an understanding shoulder. He appears really tall standing on the shoulders of the man who just broke her heart. He loves to be the rebound, yet wonders why he always gets tossed aside once he’s helped her heal.

*Not all good girls like bad boys.* What we like is a man with a spine, who knows how to play his role and be the man. Not just a girlfriend with a penis. Why do you think you always end up in the friend zone? Let me say for the record, the good girls who do like "bad boys" in the traditional sense (abusive, unemployed, unfaithful, criminals) are immature and foolish and do not represent real women.

It’s important to be kind and considerate to the lady in your life. You should treat her in a manner that lets her know she is special to you, but that doesn't mean you have to be a doormat. It's like you are so busy trying to please everybody that you don't really please anybody. The guy who hides behind this title seems to have some deep root of insecurity, so he is always trying to pacify and satiate. He lacks the balance to see that he does't have to be tyrant OR a wuss. Balance.

Just because you pay for dinner a couples times or bring flowers doesn't mean you are somehow exceptional. Again, stop waiting for applause. Personally, I don't even like flowers and I prefer to go Dutch at the beginning of a relationship.

90% of the guys I’ve met who label themselves "nice guys" are absolute dorks with no sense of personal style and no idea how to talk to women. He hides behind the guise of being "nice" as protection from the truth that he has no other choice but to be nice. I'd be willing to bet that if that same "nice" guy was to wake up tomorrow with six pack abs, six figures in the bank and the face of an angel he'd turn into a dog before the toaster popped.

Final thought: I have never dated a man who hit me or cursed at me. I would not tolerate a man who was unfaithful or untrustworthy. I don't date drug dealers, drug users or any otherwise shady types. The men I date are not "nice guys" nor are they "bad boys." I date men who know how to handle me, and how to handle their business. Men who have compassion, integrity and a sense of personal responsibility. Now, that's nice.

Untitled

I am laughing hysterically

Yet crying inconsolably

While shaking uncontrollably

All for your amusement



Are you not entertained?

Unfinished

I am a fan of random things and all the mischief that they bring 

I am a fan of all things random; lies and truth exist in tandem

 

I am a fan 

A fan am I 

Of legends, myths and lullabies

Ugly Truths Deceptive Smiles 

The clever serpent’s tongue beguiles

 

The lies that calm The lies that sooth 

The charming kind ~ sanded and smooth

 

Don’t smile at me - don’t touch my face - don’t hold my hand - don’t meet my gaze

 

No let’s get drunk

 Let’s Fool Around

 Let’s build me up 

Let’s tear me down

 

It’s all the same 

There is no shame

There is no blame

It’s all a game

 

It is what it is 

It’s not what it ain’t 

Now a Happy Smile on my face we’ll paint

 

Paint a pretty picture; make life seem like what it’s not 

A story with no ending, all action but no plot

 

I am a fan of random things 

Of lollipops and pinky rings 

I am a fan of all things random…

Still Alive

Still Alive...

The cancer of mediocrity has taken root in my character.

I seek only that which is comfortable.

My goal is that which will require the least effort on my part.

I have become complacent.

My future, as blank as the expression on my face.

No aspirations. No plan. No point.

I just am, with only my existence to validate me. I am certain I have begun to not even care or notice the weeds growing up around my immobile legs.

Wrapped up tight, pressed down, beaten and exhausted from the struggle, I can hear the shallow echo from my broken spirit. Calling from the depths of this void I've created.

Ever so faintly, she calls to me...

"I'm... still... alive!"

Stupid Girl

You don't love me.

And I am a stupid girl.

Your eyes tell me I'm not the one.

But I am a stupid girl.

I offer my passionate kisses; the lust of my flesh. The warmth from my breast.

And I am a stupid, stupid girl.

You take all I give, every bit of me. Spend my love until not a drop is left.

But I am a stupid girl.

Open. Me. Up. To you.

Fill me with your need, satisfy yourself. Find shelter in this dark place filled with erotic sighs like satin. Exotic moans like silk.

There is temporary comfort in our whispers... but none of it is true.

So cover me with soft lies, because... I am a stupid girl.

But I am a stupid, stupid girl.

The Break Up...

What do you do when it all feels so futile?

I have nothing left to offer you.
You have nothing left to offer me.

Sure, thought of life without you is scary. It’s cold out there.
But fear should never be the motivation to stay in a dead relationship.

You’ve been good to me over these last few years, and I’ve tried to be good to you.
I’ve grown so much during our time together.
I’ve learned so much about myself, so much about life.

Something are not meant to last forever. Just a season.

Our season together has come to an end. To deny that, and prolong the inevitable could prove disastrous.

I have to find the life that is meant for me.

Please don’t be angry with me. We both know it’s time to let go.

I cherish everything that we’ve been to each other.

Let me go.

That is all.

Stupid, sappy, sentimental, idealized, romance dramas…

So, I watch Titanic yesterday. Geez. I avoided watching that damn movie for over a year when it first came out. I went to a predominantly white school, so most of my friends were white girls who were in love with Mr. Hottie McHotterson, Leonardo DiCaprio. They each saw the movie at least twice, and bought the soundtrack. When it came out of VHS (yes, I have a few years on me) they bought it and had watching parties.

I, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with it. Like many Black people, I just didn’t get it. We already knew what was going to happen from the door. It was just another Hollywood movie made without a single Black character.

Moving on. One Saturday afternoon toward the end of the last millennium, I was at my mother’s house with a whole lot of nothing to do and found my mother in her living room watching this blasted movie. I looked at her, so disappointed that she was allowing herself to be sucked into the nonsense. I stood, watching from the kitchen shaking my head. My own mother. How could she… possibly… I mean the entire premise is so… hmmm.

So, I lost 3 hours of my life that day and ended up on my mother’s couch crying like a girl. “I’ll never let go Jack, I’ll never let go” UGH! I’m ashamed to admit it, but I really liked the movie. I liked it so much that I watched the damn thing every time it came on cable for the rest of the month. I liked it so much that I bought it –at a discount of course, never pay full price.

I had not watched it in a few years, but my cable is off right now. No, I don’t want to talk about it. I needed something to watch while putting away my laundry and straightening up my bedroom. I don’t have a DVD player upstairs, just my old VCR. Titanic was one of the few tapes I held onto when I joined the rest of the world in the 21st Century and bought a DVD player. So I popped the tape in and got sucked in -again. How many freaking times can you cry over the same scene? The stink of it is, movies like that have you actually believing that kind of passion is possible. It makes you want that feeling for yourself.

My brain knows that they were only teenagers and only knew each other 3 days. In real life, if Jack hadn’t turned into a cute little blue Popsicle in the North Atlantic, they probably would have broken up after a month when the newness wore off.

So, my love life has been pretty pointless over the last, say 4 years or so, and as I watched star-crossed lovers Jack and Rose battle to make a way for their ill-fated love, I found myself experiencing a strange melancholy. Stupid Titanic. Stupid Jack Dawson. Stupid, sappy, sentimental, idealized, romance dramas.

That is all.

Sink or Swim...

How long can you dog paddle before your body gets so tired that you have to go limp?
Or you get a cramp?
You don't want to go under, you don't want to drown, but at some point your body runs out of energy. Hopefully, you are able to float, so you turn onto your back and let the water hold you, to give your limbs a rest for a while. But how long can you float?

I've had nightmare before about drowning. It terrifies me. Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing to cling to, just the cold, uncaring water all around me. Waiting to consume me at the first show of weakness. Creeping and lapping around my face. That desperate feeling.

Help, please someone help me!

But no one is there.

Or perhaps there are others in the deep with me, struggling to stay above, just like I am. They may want to lend assistance, but there predicament is as perilous as mine. Any attempt to help me remain afloat jeopardizes their own battle.

Fighting, thrashing, wanting to cry out as water floods my mouth. My will to survive is finally overcome by the reality of the crushing blue. My body goes limp.

A terrible, long, lonely way to die.

That is all.

For Erik...

Pure, untouched…in the softness of my dream
Only he and I in the world that I deem
Living in my mind as I gently sleep
Loving in a way that only dreams can keep

But now I must join my lover of the day
As my secret place must quickly go away
Within the rising dawn we are truly one
A lifetime together has but just begun

But when comes the night I leave that life behind
To start the search for the other love of mine
Each night he is pure because he has no past
He offers tenderness that can never last

Both of my loves are equal within my heart
But only when one ends can the other start
Pure, untouched…in the softness of my dream
I’ve long since forgotten which one is the dream

Malachi

Disney...

Toward the mark...

So I’m going to be 28 years old in 19 days. I always get reflective around this time of year. My birthday is a big deal to me. I just recently finished reading The Purpose Driven Life. Finishing it was emotional for me on many levels, partially because I originally began reading it with the man I thought I was going to marry. Now I will stop, to sigh and reflect briefly over that fiasco, then pull myself together to finish this post. After all, this is not going to be about him, or what could have been...

This post is about looking forward. Paul wrote that we are to forget those things which are behind and press forward. I’m paraphrasing; if you want the whole verse consult your nearest Bible. Philippians 3:13. Anyway, I find myself hopeful about the future, and when I keep my focus on Jesus rather than my own fears I know it will all be okay. The important thing now is to being living in my purpose. You can’t pray then worry.

For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a teacher. As I matured I became even more certain I would make my career working with kids -teenagers specifically. Those at that awkward, confused age when they are learning to become adults and are making decisions, not always realizing that those choices can have long term and permanent effects.

Teenagers both fascinate and irritate me. Example, the other night I was driving home, I was on my street about to park across from my house. My street is a regular 2 way residential street, though traffic is a little heavier than on other streets in the neighborhood because it connects to a larger main road. It was dark, almost 9pm, and as I approached I see the silhouette of 4 maybe 5 girls walking dead along the middle of the street. I slow, forcing my eyes to focus on them, and out of no where another girl on a bike swerves out even further, directly into my path. She scared the crap out of me!! As I pulled in my space I leaned out of my window and began fussing at them like an old person. Don’t you know these fools actually proceeded to yell back at me?? As if they were anything but wrong!

I remember being so upset inside; questioning myself... could I handle that? That is how teenagers are, after all; rebellious, full of attitude and ready to challenge authority at every turn. Would the struggle beat me? Would these kids get the best of me and send me running for the hills? Do I have what it takes? I think part of the reason I have been reluctant to continue my studies is because of those reservations. Could I really make a difference?

I prayed over it for a while, asking God to give me clarity. I still know where I’m supposed to be. He has given me this passion for a reason; he has given me this purpose. Now I just have to trust that he has also placed in me the tools necessary to fulfill it.

Surprises

This one Christmas I remember I wanted a CD player. It was when they first became a mainstream item. Like early 1990's. I was in middle school, still listening to music on tape. A couple of my friends had portable disc players.
I was opening presents and my mom handed me a package that was flat and square, about 4 inches on each side. I though, YES! She is giving me the CD first as a teaser, then she will give me the CD player. I just KNEW it was a CD. But I didn't want her to know that I had guessed. So I continued, with a sly smile on my face, casually unwrapping the gift...

Life is funny. Life can kind of suck sometimes too. You never know what to expect, and its at those moments when you foolishly allow yourself to believe you've figured it out that the roof falls in on your head. The person you may have believed was out to get you, steps in and saves you in that crucial moment. The person you thought you could count on for anything turns out to be the greatest disappointment ever. I guess the only person in life you can really count on is yourself. I know I will always have my back. 

Childhood friends make vows to be "Best Friends Forever". But people grow up, and childhood things get put away.
The people who got me through college, who became like family, who I thought would always be just a phone call away seem farther and farther. But life takes you to places you may not expect and you have to make adjustments. Some promises just get broken.

Lovers who swore their hearts to me, quickly forgot their sweet pillow talk when times got tough.
Through it all, it's been God and me. From the day I was born to the day I die. He is the only real constant. I'm learning how truly foolish it is to put your trust in anyone but God. Not because people are bad, but because they are people.

...But back to my story. As you may guessed, I did not get a CD player for Christmas that year. When I opened the wrapping I found a box containing a round, metal belt holder to hang from the bar in my closet. I was a typical teenager and my mother had complained many times about me leaving my belts and purses scattered about. So she bought this, closet organizer I guess, to get my things off the floor. It just happened to have almost the exact same dimensions as a compact disc. Ironic, huh?

I still have that belt holder today.

That is all.