The chatter.
The incessant talking.
Judging
deliberating
Hung jury.
Did I ask your opinion?
I do not remember grippin a gavel
or handing you a mic
but somewhere along the way,
I gave into you.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Personification free-write
I'm not supposed to be this rusty...
I'm not supposed to creak at only the thought of my bolts turning,
not supposed to have dust welding my bones shut.
This house used to feel like a home.
Used to let green light show through the windows.
I haven't felt the warmth of light in years.
Nothing, perhaps, to melt the crusted wax between my rib cage.
I need to unhinge,
in a matter of speaking.
Something has got to give
structure to crumbling bricks above my head.
How is it possible that my master still stands firm
when everything else around her is falling.
She stands,
in no heroic manner.
Just stubborn.
Fearful of moving
but unwilling to fight.
I close my mouth more lately,
shake my head less.
She does not respond to my disapproval,
refuses to budge when I try to shake her.
I can't seem to move her.
She's dormant in her pain.
Stoic.
I'm not supposed to creak at only the thought of my bolts turning,
not supposed to have dust welding my bones shut.
This house used to feel like a home.
Used to let green light show through the windows.
I haven't felt the warmth of light in years.
Nothing, perhaps, to melt the crusted wax between my rib cage.
I need to unhinge,
in a matter of speaking.
Something has got to give
structure to crumbling bricks above my head.
How is it possible that my master still stands firm
when everything else around her is falling.
She stands,
in no heroic manner.
Just stubborn.
Fearful of moving
but unwilling to fight.
I close my mouth more lately,
shake my head less.
She does not respond to my disapproval,
refuses to budge when I try to shake her.
I can't seem to move her.
She's dormant in her pain.
Stoic.
Letters
Dear Mommy,
When I was constructed in your womb,
you airbrushed my features,
sand blew my skin,
shaped my eyes into light brown hazards.
You told me of the music,
the books you read me,
and the pickle you ate for which I made you pay dearly.
I have this thing with guilt:
I cling to it like the father I never had.
I never forget the things I've done to wrong you,
even when I was too young to know the difference.
The pickle,
the fact that I was walking long before I'd let you see,
the fact that I was having sex long before I'd let you know about it,
before I even knew what I was doing.
The first time I saw you cry
I thought you were joking.
We're good at joking these days,
you're good at making me feel nothing bad can touch me.
Sitting in the same room causes a force-field impenetrable by any problem
and your smile:
daylight in a desert storm,
a jewel adorning and Egyptian temple.
I see your face in my mirror daily,
dress up in Lane Bryant jewelry
just to look a little more like you.
It makes sense,
you raising me in Denver.
The only place I know where there is sunshine
almost every time it rains.
Teaches you to see beauty through clouds.
You see beauty through clouds mother,
and have taught me to do the same.
My heart has been so cloudy lately.
So clogged with the things I'm afraid of doing,
doors I'm afraid to leave open,
afraid to see who will walk through,
what they'll carrry.
But you, mother,
are such a good reason not to fear.
I know I'll always have a force-field to return home to.
When I was constructed in your womb,
you airbrushed my features,
sand blew my skin,
shaped my eyes into light brown hazards.
You told me of the music,
the books you read me,
and the pickle you ate for which I made you pay dearly.
I have this thing with guilt:
I cling to it like the father I never had.
I never forget the things I've done to wrong you,
even when I was too young to know the difference.
The pickle,
the fact that I was walking long before I'd let you see,
the fact that I was having sex long before I'd let you know about it,
before I even knew what I was doing.
The first time I saw you cry
I thought you were joking.
We're good at joking these days,
you're good at making me feel nothing bad can touch me.
Sitting in the same room causes a force-field impenetrable by any problem
and your smile:
daylight in a desert storm,
a jewel adorning and Egyptian temple.
I see your face in my mirror daily,
dress up in Lane Bryant jewelry
just to look a little more like you.
It makes sense,
you raising me in Denver.
The only place I know where there is sunshine
almost every time it rains.
Teaches you to see beauty through clouds.
You see beauty through clouds mother,
and have taught me to do the same.
My heart has been so cloudy lately.
So clogged with the things I'm afraid of doing,
doors I'm afraid to leave open,
afraid to see who will walk through,
what they'll carrry.
But you, mother,
are such a good reason not to fear.
I know I'll always have a force-field to return home to.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Late Night Epiphany
I have a better understanding of myself now.
I am very much the narrative thinker against which Christ was warning.
I presume to know who in my life plays a leading role,
how there role is meant to unfold,
the character arcs I will have
and though obvious,
the most important epiphany of all is that I expect to be the lead role.
No need to to go out of my way for any rewarding plot lines or character,
I most always be center stage.
It's not as selfish as it sounds,
if you don't believe me reference my favorite paragraphs from Dessa's chapbook, she explains it all.
However, it is an adverse way of thinking for several reasons;
leads me to ignore "extras"
forces me to hold those whom I've decided are supporting roles to higher expectations than they need be held
causes anxiety when plot lines don't unfold by some formula I've invented
I do selfish things such as not go out of my way to be a supporting role in other's life
I binge on spontaneous moment because much of my life feels rigid.
Alors, here is what we must do.
Repeat this mantra every morning for 21 days until I live out the words
(wanna know a crazy omen, it going to end naturally on 11/11/11 :-0)
Today I will live moment to moment,
I will trust my intuition and invest the majority of energy into peaceful moments,
I am always where I am needed and will do my best to use abilities to other's advantage.
I trust that my life has a fluid purpose and that I will not be able to know where it's going.
I know that every person I come in constant contact with is a key player and I will treat them with respect and lend an ear to anything they have to teach me.
I know that people come and go and it is all for the glory of the universe.
I will comply with everything the universe is teaching me.
I am grateful for everyone who has touch my life, everyone in my life and everyone entering.
It's going to be a beautiful a day
I am very much the narrative thinker against which Christ was warning.
I presume to know who in my life plays a leading role,
how there role is meant to unfold,
the character arcs I will have
and though obvious,
the most important epiphany of all is that I expect to be the lead role.
No need to to go out of my way for any rewarding plot lines or character,
I most always be center stage.
It's not as selfish as it sounds,
if you don't believe me reference my favorite paragraphs from Dessa's chapbook, she explains it all.
However, it is an adverse way of thinking for several reasons;
leads me to ignore "extras"
forces me to hold those whom I've decided are supporting roles to higher expectations than they need be held
causes anxiety when plot lines don't unfold by some formula I've invented
I do selfish things such as not go out of my way to be a supporting role in other's life
I binge on spontaneous moment because much of my life feels rigid.
Alors, here is what we must do.
Repeat this mantra every morning for 21 days until I live out the words
(wanna know a crazy omen, it going to end naturally on 11/11/11 :-0)
Today I will live moment to moment,
I will trust my intuition and invest the majority of energy into peaceful moments,
I am always where I am needed and will do my best to use abilities to other's advantage.
I trust that my life has a fluid purpose and that I will not be able to know where it's going.
I know that every person I come in constant contact with is a key player and I will treat them with respect and lend an ear to anything they have to teach me.
I know that people come and go and it is all for the glory of the universe.
I will comply with everything the universe is teaching me.
I am grateful for everyone who has touch my life, everyone in my life and everyone entering.
It's going to be a beautiful a day
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
After Phone Conversation with Franklin II
If it is a typical demonic strategy is to slip thoughts into mind in order to create a diversion,
to hold dominion long enough an opportunity to be missed
or spoiled;
Then you are said strategy in human form.
You are where the devil got creative
and somewhat impressive.
I mean to think,
he would deliver you labeled as something I wanted,
as something that was meant to help me,
something worth having around that would enhance my spirit
instead of inhibiting.
He took his time crafting you.
And NOT in vain,
you are a master of this art.
to hold dominion long enough an opportunity to be missed
or spoiled;
Then you are said strategy in human form.
You are where the devil got creative
and somewhat impressive.
I mean to think,
he would deliver you labeled as something I wanted,
as something that was meant to help me,
something worth having around that would enhance my spirit
instead of inhibiting.
He took his time crafting you.
And NOT in vain,
you are a master of this art.
Impressive masterpiece of actions.
Amazing.
No really I don't know how you do it.
How magnificently orchestrated.
How quick you are to return my call when it's about you,
how your phone dies when it becomes about me.
The deep caring I feel for you,
the apathy you show me.
I'm in awe.
Pure and sanctified awe.
What an incredible craft you have mastered....
Amazing.
No really I don't know how you do it.
How magnificently orchestrated.
How quick you are to return my call when it's about you,
how your phone dies when it becomes about me.
The deep caring I feel for you,
the apathy you show me.
I'm in awe.
Pure and sanctified awe.
What an incredible craft you have mastered....
Friday, October 7, 2011
Letters
Dear Taharka,
It would appear I'm starting us off early. Not a real shocker. Perhaps it's good, perhaps this is the habit the doctor (Richard) called for. I've written letters that afterwards, after sense sunk in, were completely forgotten and life continued. Though when I wrote the letter, the topic consumed me. Maybe this is the habit I'll get into every time my daddy issues start creepin'.
I'm bummed I didn't hear from you today. At first I was in uproar because I was being given a bit of evidence that you may be like all the other guys; flaky or not into me. I really like what Khat said though, "I can't see him having any malintent. He's gonna be around. And even if you're not together in the capacity you'd like to be, he'll always be your friend." That's enough. It's not what I want, but it's enough, so long as nothing more is promised. I can maintain a friendship if that's what you want, just don't lead me to believe there's more. Anyway, I'm excited to be friends with you, to keep your presence in my life. Yeah, that's the minimum I require.
Now that the fear that you may be like every other guy has somewhat subsided for the moment, I'm just bummed cause I was really looking forward to our first phone conversation. I know that's silly but, think about it; I mean, I don't know about you, but I get soo much more out of phone conversations than any other form of communication. And the two of us, well we've never had a real one-on-one. I'm excited to get to know you.
So yeah, I want to get to know you. I know this wasn't our only opportunity for a phone conversation and they'll be many to come. I'll get over the fact that it wasn't today, but can it please be soon?
Sincerely,
Tiqi
It would appear I'm starting us off early. Not a real shocker. Perhaps it's good, perhaps this is the habit the doctor (Richard) called for. I've written letters that afterwards, after sense sunk in, were completely forgotten and life continued. Though when I wrote the letter, the topic consumed me. Maybe this is the habit I'll get into every time my daddy issues start creepin'.
I'm bummed I didn't hear from you today. At first I was in uproar because I was being given a bit of evidence that you may be like all the other guys; flaky or not into me. I really like what Khat said though, "I can't see him having any malintent. He's gonna be around. And even if you're not together in the capacity you'd like to be, he'll always be your friend." That's enough. It's not what I want, but it's enough, so long as nothing more is promised. I can maintain a friendship if that's what you want, just don't lead me to believe there's more. Anyway, I'm excited to be friends with you, to keep your presence in my life. Yeah, that's the minimum I require.
Now that the fear that you may be like every other guy has somewhat subsided for the moment, I'm just bummed cause I was really looking forward to our first phone conversation. I know that's silly but, think about it; I mean, I don't know about you, but I get soo much more out of phone conversations than any other form of communication. And the two of us, well we've never had a real one-on-one. I'm excited to get to know you.
So yeah, I want to get to know you. I know this wasn't our only opportunity for a phone conversation and they'll be many to come. I'll get over the fact that it wasn't today, but can it please be soon?
Sincerely,
Tiqi
Thursday, October 6, 2011
My Religion (Version 1)
For you to find balance,
You must look at something immovable,
some stable,
a constant.
If your eyes shift,
if they view something that sways,
if the mind becomes aware it is responsible for balance,
you will fail.
You have the power to stay balanced however,
whether endowed or inalienable; present.
Yet, you still need to see something infallibly achieving stability
in order to achieve stability
We are children of imitation.
It is the way we develop.
A default setting responsible for the evolution of 7 billion years.
It is inescapable.
The knowledge that you are in charge,
that this world is inherently yours to change
control,
is no substitute for recognizing other entities
whether imagined or real
they are the outlets for each of our individuals power cords.
Our power comes from a grid,
an undeniable connectivity scientifically proven.
So odd,
that while alone,
we are enough:
we are worthless without each other
and while completely capable in one’s self,
you are worthless without others.
So we find our imitation in each other.
The way father shaves
our brother’s throwing arm
Dorothy obsessive use of make-up
mother’s hypocritical tendencies
We copy these things,
Either deliberately or by accident.
And we think it will be enough.
Think that we will soon be fluid in the language of life so long as we know how to write a check,
ride a bike,
change a tire.
We assume we will find peace if we memorize the actions of those around us,
we think them stable who we most admire.
But what the mind understands
the sub-conscious proves false.
It is more in tune to fractional sways
to the gentle fallibility of the hu,ans around us.
So we look up.
Through clouds,
beyond the sun that’s always "just passing through"
and the stars we’ve known to burst into to dust
since the beginning of time
and we look into the deepest darkness we have ever known,
A canvas
vast enough for us to create something.
Perhaps a painting of ourselves,
balancing,
in perfect harmony with the universe.
We don’t tell ourselves it’s us though.
Only a small majority would be so vain.
Some of us balance out the picture with opposites:
If I am a woman,
He must be a man.
If I am black,
he must be white,
blue eyes
long hair
But most importantly,
he must be everything I wish I were;
kind,
full of grace, knowledge,
understanding,
able to love unconditionally.
He will achieve the stability of which I will never feel capable,
So that when I am alone,
hands steepled to chest,
balancing with one foot arched above my knee;
pigeon’s pose,
I will have something
to look at.
You must look at something immovable,
some stable,
a constant.
If your eyes shift,
if they view something that sways,
if the mind becomes aware it is responsible for balance,
you will fail.
You have the power to stay balanced however,
whether endowed or inalienable; present.
Yet, you still need to see something infallibly achieving stability
in order to achieve stability
We are children of imitation.
It is the way we develop.
A default setting responsible for the evolution of 7 billion years.
It is inescapable.
The knowledge that you are in charge,
that this world is inherently yours to change
control,
is no substitute for recognizing other entities
whether imagined or real
they are the outlets for each of our individuals power cords.
Our power comes from a grid,
an undeniable connectivity scientifically proven.
So odd,
that while alone,
we are enough:
we are worthless without each other
and while completely capable in one’s self,
you are worthless without others.
So we find our imitation in each other.
The way father shaves
our brother’s throwing arm
Dorothy obsessive use of make-up
mother’s hypocritical tendencies
We copy these things,
Either deliberately or by accident.
And we think it will be enough.
Think that we will soon be fluid in the language of life so long as we know how to write a check,
ride a bike,
change a tire.
We assume we will find peace if we memorize the actions of those around us,
we think them stable who we most admire.
But what the mind understands
the sub-conscious proves false.
It is more in tune to fractional sways
to the gentle fallibility of the hu,ans around us.
So we look up.
Through clouds,
beyond the sun that’s always "just passing through"
and the stars we’ve known to burst into to dust
since the beginning of time
and we look into the deepest darkness we have ever known,
A canvas
vast enough for us to create something.
Perhaps a painting of ourselves,
balancing,
in perfect harmony with the universe.
We don’t tell ourselves it’s us though.
Only a small majority would be so vain.
Some of us balance out the picture with opposites:
If I am a woman,
He must be a man.
If I am black,
he must be white,
blue eyes
long hair
But most importantly,
he must be everything I wish I were;
kind,
full of grace, knowledge,
understanding,
able to love unconditionally.
He will achieve the stability of which I will never feel capable,
So that when I am alone,
hands steepled to chest,
balancing with one foot arched above my knee;
pigeon’s pose,
I will have something
to look at.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Just can't stop thinkin bout you
He is Egyptian, a Pharoh, from West Berkeley, an optimist. If his compassion for humanity was placed in front of the horizon it would block out the sun but it would never for he is translucent, iridescent, luminous. He IS light. He came to me like the wings of a sunrise with outstretched arms and a curved smile. He is Kemet's finest, heavens hope, he is everything Heather Headley claimed him to be, what Jill Scott only WISH she had and The Truth as described by India Arie... so yeah, I might be crushin' a lil bit....
dark chocolate brown (we would make such beautiful babies), he sings, draws, cooks...oh good Lord, he cooks!
HOW COULD I FORGET: He's a poet!!!!
If it turns out I'm completely wrong about him, if he disappears into a puff of smoke and never returns, those three hours were enough. If he doesn't exist, this Taharka, this Pharaoh, this Nubian God if he is a figment of my most eloquent imagination, he is conceivable which is inspirational because it means there could be one such as him to cradle my heart. He is...if I could...in a word...breathtaking
p.s. he's tall
dark chocolate brown (we would make such beautiful babies), he sings, draws, cooks...oh good Lord, he cooks!
HOW COULD I FORGET: He's a poet!!!!
If it turns out I'm completely wrong about him, if he disappears into a puff of smoke and never returns, those three hours were enough. If he doesn't exist, this Taharka, this Pharaoh, this Nubian God if he is a figment of my most eloquent imagination, he is conceivable which is inspirational because it means there could be one such as him to cradle my heart. He is...if I could...in a word...breathtaking
p.s. he's tall
Thursday, September 1, 2011
365/365 (yay!) Phone notes
You sunk to the bottom of my stomach that immediately felt like I imagine a bubble would while carrying a weight that is not it's own. You've stolen all...
*She fell asleep with the murder weapon in her hand. And still ringing...
*They become sobbing ill-neccesities
*That night was supposed to be closure,
it was supposed to be closure.
It didn't feel like closure.
It felt like open heart surgery with no Novocaine,
It felt like open wound....
It was supposed to feel like rain
like deep rest
like healing.
It felt like tearing....
*
*She fell asleep with the murder weapon in her hand. And still ringing...
*They become sobbing ill-neccesities
*That night was supposed to be closure,
it was supposed to be closure.
It didn't feel like closure.
It felt like open heart surgery with no Novocaine,
It felt like open wound....
It was supposed to feel like rain
like deep rest
like healing.
It felt like tearing....
*
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
364/365 Curious George
Dear Kyle,
I just missed 11:11 on the clock. It is now 11:12 which means I could be dead wrong about everything I'm about to write (I don't know how you interpret 11:11 but I think it means I'm on the right track. Just missing it could be the exact opposite) but it's an epiphany I had this moment and I think it's worth noting.
I'm very much aware that you may never write me the way you've said you would. Especially considering you don't have much time. I leave for San Francisco Tuesday afternoon and no offense but the last thing I want is to get some long, "heart felt" message from you when I get there. I plan to pour all my energy and attention into all thing present when I get there. Focus on my life there and making it rich. I don't want to feel the need to focus any attention on you or have any reason to spend my very precious currency of thought on you. Again, no offense, I just seriously need to move on.
So, you have until Tuesday, if not then, then you failed at writing me back a second time. Who is surprised? But damn, wouldn't that say something about you, or me, or where I fall on your priority list? Something to seriously consider.
Anyway, epiphany; you only hook up with me when you're feeling guilty or lustful. It's like I said in the car after Red Rocks, your hooking up with me is this instant gratification. When I make you feel badly, make you see that you've wronged me, of course your immediate response is to want redemption. The only way you seem to know you've got recieved redemption is if I give in and hook up with you. I am guilty in this matter as well because I want some sort of confirmation that you understood how poorly you've treated me and that you are going to change. Instead of getting this in the form of a polite, adult discussion and action as proof you can change, I settle only for what is given which is you jumping my bones....
The lust thing usually comes when we are away from each other for a long time. Like the week I spent in Telluride. When I got back, we hooked up in Panama's apartment. Almost every time I went to San Francisco and this summer, when you got back from your trip, we pounced.
I cling to you when I want forgiveness as well. I know you don't enjoy the idea of spending time with me. I only like it if your next to me. If I can lay some sort of claim to you. If I reserve the right to sit next to you. But I know you hate that. It hurts me that you hate that.
It just seems to me our relationship has been based solely on cyclical regression. You're not unlike any of my addictions.
"Never drink to feel better, only drink to feel even better."
I just missed 11:11 on the clock. It is now 11:12 which means I could be dead wrong about everything I'm about to write (I don't know how you interpret 11:11 but I think it means I'm on the right track. Just missing it could be the exact opposite) but it's an epiphany I had this moment and I think it's worth noting.
I'm very much aware that you may never write me the way you've said you would. Especially considering you don't have much time. I leave for San Francisco Tuesday afternoon and no offense but the last thing I want is to get some long, "heart felt" message from you when I get there. I plan to pour all my energy and attention into all thing present when I get there. Focus on my life there and making it rich. I don't want to feel the need to focus any attention on you or have any reason to spend my very precious currency of thought on you. Again, no offense, I just seriously need to move on.
So, you have until Tuesday, if not then, then you failed at writing me back a second time. Who is surprised? But damn, wouldn't that say something about you, or me, or where I fall on your priority list? Something to seriously consider.
Anyway, epiphany; you only hook up with me when you're feeling guilty or lustful. It's like I said in the car after Red Rocks, your hooking up with me is this instant gratification. When I make you feel badly, make you see that you've wronged me, of course your immediate response is to want redemption. The only way you seem to know you've got recieved redemption is if I give in and hook up with you. I am guilty in this matter as well because I want some sort of confirmation that you understood how poorly you've treated me and that you are going to change. Instead of getting this in the form of a polite, adult discussion and action as proof you can change, I settle only for what is given which is you jumping my bones....
The lust thing usually comes when we are away from each other for a long time. Like the week I spent in Telluride. When I got back, we hooked up in Panama's apartment. Almost every time I went to San Francisco and this summer, when you got back from your trip, we pounced.
I cling to you when I want forgiveness as well. I know you don't enjoy the idea of spending time with me. I only like it if your next to me. If I can lay some sort of claim to you. If I reserve the right to sit next to you. But I know you hate that. It hurts me that you hate that.
It just seems to me our relationship has been based solely on cyclical regression. You're not unlike any of my addictions.
"Never drink to feel better, only drink to feel even better."
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
363/365 Free-write (8/17/2011)
He could see through the thick skin of the wind
could wrap chimes around his fingers.
I swore he conducted the stars.
We were standing on the porch steps once,
in the middle of New York City.
Listening to the bustle of cars,
the suffocation of smog.
He asked me if I could ever called it home,
asked me if he was enough to make a place feel like home.
I told him you can’t make homes out of human beings,
but his voice made me feel cozier then summer comfort.
And that’s when it hit.
What my elders always warned about.
There will be temptations,
test,
beckoning you to diverge from the path you chosen.
The path you said you always wanted for yourself.
The things you swore you’d always do.
I didn’t look him in the eyes for fear they would
swallow me whole,
and that I would never climb out.
Because I knew I had to go.
When life hands you an opportunity,
there will always be the feeling that you will never get better.
You will always get better,
you will always deserve better than this moment.
Then what is the point of life.
Grind mode I guess.
Self improvement,
too bad there is a biological clock.
I would like to have my own kids but I doubt my life is ever going to slow down long enough for me to have them
while my uterus is still down for the cause.
I could adopt.
French, Italian, African.
So I speak to them in their native tongue.
So I can learn their history and teach them their pride.
It’s not gender specific.
And I have no idea where that thought came from.
afdafdafdarhttb ninbvfcdxdc bvhcgdcsda fthsfhbvadcxa
Dududuuduudududeuu squeeze squeeze
362/365 Scratch that, I'd rather just say what I need (demand)
Chivalrous, (includes door opening, purchases, flowers and all around thoughtfulness)
Respects me and my vow for AS LONG AS IT TAKES. I will not be pressured into anything even marriage!
Love for all the things I deserve to be loved for; my sense of humor, my height, my body, my sense of adventure and spontaneity)
Consistency.
Affectionate.
Enjoys having fun.
NEEDS to be a reader.
Likes to be read to.
Likes to read to me.
Respects me and my vow for AS LONG AS IT TAKES. I will not be pressured into anything even marriage!
Love for all the things I deserve to be loved for; my sense of humor, my height, my body, my sense of adventure and spontaneity)
Consistency.
Affectionate.
Enjoys having fun.
NEEDS to be a reader.
Likes to be read to.
Likes to read to me.
361/365 Free-write in Blood 2
It just that him saying that last night gave me hope, that if that was truly what it was, if how he treats me was because of something I did, then I would do anything to change his mind. Then we could have a friendship but chances are it's not that easy. Chances are that's not the only reason for his rudeness, it's not the only reason we don't connect and it wouldn't change anything. I'm being selfish because I just don't want to walk away feeling like any of this is my fault. I want to clean up my mess. But I would also like it if he did the same. If we both called ourselves out on what we did wrong, I feel like it would peroxide to eachother's wound, so that we don't have to walk away picking at them. This break doesn't feel clean at all and that's what sucks. I feel like he hates and is annoyed by me. Which is also sucky. And if we come back together wanting to be friends and this isn't cleaned up if we don't know the full wrongs we've received
Friday, August 19, 2011
360/365 Free-write in blood
We went through some super natural stuff. For sure, it was beautiful and noteworthy but can't be the focus. If that is what is needed, the universe will speak that. If not, things will go swimmingly either way. But I'm pretty sure the goal now is to move on. and I don't understand why, and I don't have a flipping clue what it all means, but I'll trust God. This is what he is telling me to do and despite the sudden wobbly feeling caused by my conversation with Richard, it's time to move on and I've known it.
But how do I handle it in the future when he wants to talk or has a moment of weakness. Cross that bridge when we get to it. Just stay focus on other stuff. Which you have plenty of. You know what to do.
That talk about physical versus super natural. And while of course we are spirits we are literally trapped in a physical world. I mean just look at what we walk around in. There are ways to temporarily transcends this world but we can't dwell in the spirit realm.
I say this because I think, it the spirit realm, Kyle and I are meant to have a child for some purpose. I believe that intuitively. In the physical realm to which we are bound, that is absurd. So, the stuff really gets messy.
To give you a better example of how out of sync the spiritual and physical realm are, think about this. A women's body in the prime place to have a child from the age of 22-26. How many 22-26 year old get married and live happily ever after. Very few, the divorce rates are insane and the people unhappy with their life are even more alarming. It doesn't add up or line up or grrrr, what is the purpose?!
And it doesn't make sense that I'm hurting after losing Kyle. Well, I guess it does. I love him, we've been involved for so long. It's always felt like it's ending and then hasn't so for all I know this could be no difference. I just...ugh, there are so many things I loved to change about how it all went down. But no more obsessing. #keepitmoving
But how do I handle it in the future when he wants to talk or has a moment of weakness. Cross that bridge when we get to it. Just stay focus on other stuff. Which you have plenty of. You know what to do.
That talk about physical versus super natural. And while of course we are spirits we are literally trapped in a physical world. I mean just look at what we walk around in. There are ways to temporarily transcends this world but we can't dwell in the spirit realm.
I say this because I think, it the spirit realm, Kyle and I are meant to have a child for some purpose. I believe that intuitively. In the physical realm to which we are bound, that is absurd. So, the stuff really gets messy.
To give you a better example of how out of sync the spiritual and physical realm are, think about this. A women's body in the prime place to have a child from the age of 22-26. How many 22-26 year old get married and live happily ever after. Very few, the divorce rates are insane and the people unhappy with their life are even more alarming. It doesn't add up or line up or grrrr, what is the purpose?!
And it doesn't make sense that I'm hurting after losing Kyle. Well, I guess it does. I love him, we've been involved for so long. It's always felt like it's ending and then hasn't so for all I know this could be no difference. I just...ugh, there are so many things I loved to change about how it all went down. But no more obsessing. #keepitmoving
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
359/365 Free-write w/ Workshoper 8/17/2011
He could see through the thick skin of the wind
could wrap chimes around his fingers.
I swore he conducted the stars.
We were standing on the porch steps once,
in the middle of New York City.
Listening to the bustle of cars,
the suffocation of smog.
He asked me if I could ever called it home,
asked me if he was enough to make a place feel like home.
I told him you can’t make homes out of human beings,
but his voice made me feel cozier then summer comfort.
And that’s when it hit.
What my elders always warned about.
There will be temptations,
test,
beckoning you to diverge from the path you chosen.
The path you said you always wanted for yourself.
The things you swore you’d always do.
I didn’t look him in the eyes for fear they would
swallow me whole,
and that I would never climb out.
Because I knew I had to go.
When life hands you an opportunity,
there will always be the feeling that you will never get better.
You will always get better,
you will always deserve better than this moment.
Then what is the point of life.
Grind mode I guess.
Self improvement,
too bad there is a biological clock.
I would like to have my own kids but I doubt my life is ever going to slow down long enough for me to have them
while my uterus is still down for the cause.
I could adopt.
French, Italian, African.
So I speak to them in their native tongue.
So I can learn their history and teach them their pride.
It’s not gender specific.
And I have no idea where that thought came from.
afdafdafdarhttb ninbvfcdxdc bvhcgdcsda fthsfhbvadcxa
Dududuuduudududeuu squeeze squeeze
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
358/365 Free-write 8/16/2011
I know deep down in my heart that you're not the one.
But if that fails,
there is pure common sense.
For instance;
*I want a guy who knows I'm worth waiting for
*Chivalrous
*....
But if that fails,
there is pure common sense.
For instance;
*I want a guy who knows I'm worth waiting for
*Chivalrous
*....
357/365 Nightfall II
The night is usually so clam here,
Rhythmic crickets,
wind hums
and melodic calmness Denver's night's bring this part of town.
But there's an urgency about this night.
I can feel knocking.
I can't tell if it's at the front door or the back.
I've check both,
no one there,
but still...knocking.
That's when I saw you.
Couldn't have been more than three millimeters tall,
knocking at the door of my silver heart without flowers,
without chivalry,
or candles,
or respect for the sleeping.
There was an arrogance about your stance,
...
Rhythmic crickets,
wind hums
and melodic calmness Denver's night's bring this part of town.
But there's an urgency about this night.
I can feel knocking.
I can't tell if it's at the front door or the back.
I've check both,
no one there,
but still...knocking.
That's when I saw you.
Couldn't have been more than three millimeters tall,
knocking at the door of my silver heart without flowers,
without chivalry,
or candles,
or respect for the sleeping.
There was an arrogance about your stance,
...
Monday, August 15, 2011
356/365 Again with Fire...
There are thing a fire learns very early in life;
To blaze,
to sizzle,
dance,
desire,
tempt,
engulf
destroy.
There are things
a fire is rarely taught.
To be desired.
To be tamed.
To play
enjoy
I don't know how you got here.
Where you came from
what path you choose that landed you in the hearth of this fire.
But I've noticed your callous your fingers.
The way they are printless,
raw
and smooth.
The way you grip my body,
unpetrified
and stare at me as though I weren't the sun.
Hasn't anyone ever told you not to stare directly into the sun,
I think I might have mentioned it.
I think I sent you several flare gun warning signs,
I think, I'm not sure, why you're still here.
To blaze,
to sizzle,
dance,
desire,
tempt,
engulf
destroy.
There are things
a fire is rarely taught.
To be desired.
To be tamed.
To play
enjoy
I don't know how you got here.
Where you came from
what path you choose that landed you in the hearth of this fire.
But I've noticed your callous your fingers.
The way they are printless,
raw
and smooth.
The way you grip my body,
unpetrified
and stare at me as though I weren't the sun.
Hasn't anyone ever told you not to stare directly into the sun,
I think I might have mentioned it.
I think I sent you several flare gun warning signs,
I think, I'm not sure, why you're still here.
355/365 Free-write on 8/14/2011
And you'll make a problems just to see if they'll help you solve them when you really should be trusting and avoiding your time with them.
354/365 Free-write on 7/24/2011
I can't keep playing keep it up
with my relationships or pull it down just
to watch them force their way
to the ceiling.
Let them rise and fall on their own.
Either the were given God's helium
breath or they simply were not
meant to be
with my relationships or pull it down just
to watch them force their way
to the ceiling.
Let them rise and fall on their own.
Either the were given God's helium
breath or they simply were not
meant to be
353/365 Letters 104
Dear Kyle,
There are certain people,
you just keep coming back to.
She is right in front of you.
You befin to wonder
could you find a better one
compared to her
Now she's in question.
And all at once,
the crowd begins to sing;
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing, are the same.
Maybe you want her,
Maybe you need her,
Maybe you've started to compare,
to someone not there.
Lookin' for the right one,
you lined up the world to fin.
Where no questions cross your mind.
But she won't keep on waiting,
for you without a doubt,
much longer for you to sort it ou.
Perfection will not come.
Oh, it never comes.
Maybe you want her.
Maybe you need her.
Maybe you had her.
Maybe you lost her,
to another
oh, to another.
There are certain people,
you just keep coming back to.
She is right in front of you.
You befin to wonder
could you find a better one
compared to her
Now she's in question.
And all at once,
the crowd begins to sing;
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing, are the same.
Maybe you want her,
Maybe you need her,
Maybe you've started to compare,
to someone not there.
Lookin' for the right one,
you lined up the world to fin.
Where no questions cross your mind.
But she won't keep on waiting,
for you without a doubt,
much longer for you to sort it ou.
Perfection will not come.
Oh, it never comes.
Maybe you want her.
Maybe you need her.
Maybe you had her.
Maybe you lost her,
to another
oh, to another.
352/365 Free-write on the bus
So we sat there,
both of us begging for something with our eyes.
Her forgiveness for her ancestry,
me for understanding of what my people had become.
...that's all I have to say about that....
both of us begging for something with our eyes.
Her forgiveness for her ancestry,
me for understanding of what my people had become.
...that's all I have to say about that....
351/365 Free-write at Play-ground
Something beautiful about a daughter falling off a slide into her father's welcoming arms.
You mean to tell me there's a scenario in which a girl can fall and a man will be there for her.
Interessant....
You mean to tell me there's a scenario in which a girl can fall and a man will be there for her.
Interessant....
350/365 Letters 103
You know who you are,
Stop talking to me about marriage and kids when you don't even want to be with me.
And I'm not getting married anytime with in the next give years so if that screws up your complete.
Stop talking to me about marriage and kids when you don't even want to be with me.
And I'm not getting married anytime with in the next give years so if that screws up your complete.
348/365 Free-write (7/19/2011)
And this guilt I carry around
like maggots in pocket
like flesh eating vultures.
As if I enjoy feeling my muscles deteriorate
wage wars on myself before
life even gets to attack.
I am making myself an easy swallow
(work with analogy of poisonous snakes who deteriorate their food and is it death or just tests?)
like maggots in pocket
like flesh eating vultures.
As if I enjoy feeling my muscles deteriorate
wage wars on myself before
life even gets to attack.
I am making myself an easy swallow
(work with analogy of poisonous snakes who deteriorate their food and is it death or just tests?)
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
347/365 Floating
I like to dive in knowing I can’t swim,
But I figure,
once I get in the water,
I’ll have no choice but to learn right?
When the water slips above my head
and panic slips into my lungs evicting all the oxygen.
I think it’s over,
but I always come out floating.
Dead. And defeated.
But somehow…
still floating.
346/365 Religion (Draft 1)
In the attic of my mother's heart
there are cobwebs, and crowbars. Old bibles and new religionsIn the center of everything
lies a three-year old version of myself.
My never speaks of any other age.
Every memory of my toddler era starts with
“When Dominique was three…”
What I gather is when I was three I could do no wrong.
I was cutest then,
smartest,
the year before she left me with a male babysitter must have been the last year she wanted to remember
My mother is not religious,
Traded church attendance for a Miles Monroe novels,
tells me,
when she went to church,
some of the things they (preached) didn’t FEEL right.
I am anything but religious.
Traded in bible study for a village of mentors,
I tell them,
when I read my bible,
sometimes things I read didn’t FEEL right.
I grew up in the church my mother was desperate for after I was molested.
It was where I got my first innocent kiss,
and where I learned being tall was beautiful,
especially on me
It was also the place were I voluntarily lost my virginity
towards the age of six.
[and] I’m sorry,
because I have thought of a pretty or poetic way to say that.
But all of this was proof,
that no thing,
no one
and no place
is 100% good or bad.
I was no safer in the church than I felt in my own body.
My mother is stubborn.
And when it comes to this family tree,
the apple didn’t…even…roll…
We both serve the same God,
so we spend time fighting over which doctrines to follow.
Snorting parchment
and choking on scriptures.
She offers proof of her absolutist belief with the fact
that most religious holidays around Jesus’s birth.
I mention winter solstice and astrology
and she flips ship.
Asks me if I think Winter Solstice will protect me.
I hadn’t thought about it,
but now that you mention it…
I don’t really give a damn!
Mother we are serving the same God,
the same guiding light.
Because how many of us still slice open a lamb in sacrifice,
but you boast about reading the bible three times,
and walking in it’s every word.
No, we walk by intuition.
We DO only what feels right,
what aligns us with the Universe,
and power inside of us.
There is power inside of me.
I know you’re scared,
because you don’t want me to experience the things you went through without God
but you’ve changed your beliefs at least 3 times since I turned 4
and we’ve still been cared for,
It is your FAITH that has made you whole.
And I know,
I have no real proof to offer you of my beliefs and we are too much
alike for me not to change them at least a few more times before I hit your age,
I’m not saying I know everything,
or anything at all,
but I am asking you,
to have an open heart.
There is barbed wire on the door-knob of my mother's attic
coiled into thickets
My mother never fully pronounces
the word molest-, lestation, molestation *hard swallow*, some things are better left in the attic
345/365 To My Unborn Son (Draft1)
An effective Heimlich maneuver
will often brake the tip of the sternum. {no pause}
30 percent of successful resuscitations
end in at least one broken rib. {longer pause}
They also end with a survivor walking away from a scene that could have otherwise taken their life.
Most things meant to heal you,
have to break something first.
So to my unborn son,
you will be the heart breaker
everyone warns their daughters about.
Not because you are insensitive,
or incompassionate.
but because you will have a heart the size of an ocean,
but a mind wise enough to know the difference between a chapter
and forever.
When you leave them,
something inside them will BREAK
and they will hate you,
{pause} until they learn to love themselves.
To my unborn son,
You will be a mama’s boy, {get country}
and will hold no shame with that title.
you will treat every woman you meet with the gentle love, respect and honor you give me,
you will respect them
because they deserve it
and if they do not act like they deserve it
you will treat them like they deserve it
until they respect themselves {pause}
My unborn son,
you will be no Jesus
you will fall,
fumble,
say hurtful things,
and will SMACK these habits out of you,
but realize that only break you,
to make you stronger.
They say it is an irresponsible time to have a child.
That this world is so far gone,
but why not give it a reason to correct itself.
YOU
will be a reason for the this world to correct itself.
You will pivotal.
Necessary.
It would be irresponsible NOT to give Gaia you as a gift.
You will be a sunrise without smog,
a breath a fresh air.
You will be a mama’s boy. {soft}
You will treat this earth with the love, respect and honor that you owe it.
You will nourish the desolate soil of the ghetto,
you will break it,
so it’s root can reach the .
You will break hearts so we can learn what makes them beat,
break soil,
so our crops may harvest,
When a throat is lodged,
the sternum must be broken to unclog it,
when lungs fill with liquid,
ribs have to be cracked in order to drain it.
When this world is fills with toxins
and counterproductive behavior.
Some habits need to be broken,
some patterns need to dislodged,
you will the son
that SNAPS the horizon,
the light this world needs,
to see itself,
to love and respect itself
so we can finally rebuild.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
344/365 Desert flower
I don’t know the history of my own skin.
Still I wear it like a favorite garment,
though I have long since forgot where it came from.
I wonder if it’s a insult to my ancestor’s cultures to wear it proudly without knowing it’s history,
I wonder if it is sacrilegious to wear head wraps as fashion statements on the days I don’t feel like combing my hair…
Still I wear it like a favorite garment,
though I have long since forgot where it came from.
I wonder if it’s a insult to my ancestor’s cultures to wear it proudly without knowing it’s history,
I wonder if it is sacrilegious to wear head wraps as fashion statements on the days I don’t feel like combing my hair…
343/365 Agape (Just to prove I'm worthy)
When sand dunes form in my skin,
When the silver lining I’ve spent most of my life pursuing finally makes it’s way home into my scalp
and dresses in an argent halo,
When the color of my skin can no longer be distinguished form beauty marks
and laugh lines.
When my body becomes one long novel of a purposed fulfilled.
Do not remember the girl you fell in love with.
Forget her boundless wind tunes
and butterfly whims,
the way she loved like a breeze,
caressing whomever crossed her path
irregardless of whether they deserved it.
Forget the skin, silk, cascade.
View me as I am,
who I have become,
folds and all,
creases and all.
Hold me morning dew.
Magnify each vein pore and wrinkle
spiral down,
flow with it’s curves,
margins and ripples
cradle the barren riverbanks.
I am God’s first fingerprint
revealed after decades of forensics
The wind of a lifetime has brushed away dust
Revealing the hieroglyphics dating me for you.
I was carved for you,
out of mahogany red tree
a totem pole of stories
just for you to read.
Read here,
where wind tunes composed symphonies,
where butterfly whims stretched eagle’s wings.
And here,
where my love graduates from breeze to typhoon
Twisters and natural disasters have threatened my frame
and we have weathered these storms together.
There have been nights when your anger kept you from our home,
days
when pride kept me from you arms.
We have had moments,
when I’d rather claim I don’t need you
than acknowledge the longing I feel without you
and every smooth place on my skin is a regret.
There should be evidence of life there.
Wrinkles and stretch marks,
proof of us.
Scars and sand dunes,
proof of war and peace.
And scorch marks,
proof of just where my glass blown skin comes from.
I’ve always wanted to be loved just the way you love me,
Down to my very hands
and eyebrow frays,
admiration of the things I was made from.
I turn Savannah sand in your hands.
When you bulldozer,
brown eyes target mine,
I am Jericho,
Berlin,
Roman Empire.
So when my knees crumble,
when my bones creak like summer rocking chairs,
and thirsty screen doors.
When the compilation of desert storm has succeeded to blur my vision,
sing to me,
because your voice is the closest thing to a Denver sunrise.
And I promise,
I will write you love poems in the form of dragging heels,
and folded smiles,
when I am just crumbled,
origami version of my former self
With the slow beauty of a consistent sunset,
fall in love with me
again.
Friday, July 29, 2011
342/365 Water 1
Flipped over,
world spinning the table slit my wrist
like a suicide alert I would never become.
These are the consequences of losing you head in you heart,
look deep within the ventricles and chambers.
I had a sore on my wrist seven weeks,
It opened up everytime my mind wandered through my heart again,
every time ecstasy wrapped itself around my body like water,
making me feel weightless
and invincible
when I was all too close to drowning.
And about drowning...
My love is rough
and unruly
like a cactus shell.
If you hold me,
I will sink into you flesh unwarranted,
cling to you like lungs to air.
and if you can get past my dried to jagged
edges,
their is a wealth of water deep within the cavity of my womb.
Do not grow comfortable when you find this.
if you sink into it's beauty
you will drown.
It was not meant for you
I did not swallow full oceans at birth
just to ease your thirst.
You are selfish,
and I have let you be.
Slit myself open,
placed my well to your desert lips.
You complained of being disatisfied,
threatened to find another canteen.
I can not stop the power of my love once it is unleashed,
You will drown before you reach the door.
This love was not meant for men,
it was made for me...
world spinning the table slit my wrist
like a suicide alert I would never become.
These are the consequences of losing you head in you heart,
look deep within the ventricles and chambers.
I had a sore on my wrist seven weeks,
It opened up everytime my mind wandered through my heart again,
every time ecstasy wrapped itself around my body like water,
making me feel weightless
and invincible
when I was all too close to drowning.
And about drowning...
My love is rough
and unruly
like a cactus shell.
If you hold me,
I will sink into you flesh unwarranted,
cling to you like lungs to air.
and if you can get past my dried to jagged
edges,
their is a wealth of water deep within the cavity of my womb.
Do not grow comfortable when you find this.
if you sink into it's beauty
you will drown.
It was not meant for you
I did not swallow full oceans at birth
just to ease your thirst.
You are selfish,
and I have let you be.
Slit myself open,
placed my well to your desert lips.
You complained of being disatisfied,
threatened to find another canteen.
I can not stop the power of my love once it is unleashed,
You will drown before you reach the door.
This love was not meant for men,
it was made for me...
341/365 Letters 102
Dear Reggie,
Sort of strange isn't it?
The way every relationship you have still manages to grapevine it's way back to me?
#hauntingmeafterdeath
Sort of strange isn't it?
The way every relationship you have still manages to grapevine it's way back to me?
#hauntingmeafterdeath
340/365 Short Poem
I was laying down a personalized path to the insane asylum down the street
when you called.
You asked me if I were busy....
And I told you,
I was barring the cage to my own isolation chamber
When you showed up
I was hand-crafting my coffin
When you knocked
I didn't expect you
I resented your presence.
I am so glad
you are here.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
339/365 Free-write
We're holding on to air hoping it won't slip through our fingers,
gripping so hard
and crying.
Holding on to the smell of what used to be us,
all that's left,
is empty space.
Let go.
gripping so hard
and crying.
Holding on to the smell of what used to be us,
all that's left,
is empty space.
Let go.
338/365 David Blair
David Blair.
I didn't know you,
though I think I might have hugged you once...
I don't know how you died.
All I know is in your the last breath
you swallowed
everything I loved about this city.
Like the miraculous way my mentor's smile transmits through telephone wires,
the way my coaches caring "hello" reverberates against silence,
and the way they call Luz carries such light.
In the days before you died,
you had never inhabited my mind so much,
had a phantom poem playing in my head,
Ken read it to us in his apartment a week before you passed.
I didn't know you,
though I think I might have hugged you once...
I don't know how you died.
All I know is in your the last breath
you swallowed
everything I loved about this city.
Like the miraculous way my mentor's smile transmits through telephone wires,
the way my coaches caring "hello" reverberates against silence,
and the way they call Luz carries such light.
In the days before you died,
you had never inhabited my mind so much,
had a phantom poem playing in my head,
Ken read it to us in his apartment a week before you passed.
337/365 Water Scraps 2
*The Sufi tell stories of timeless proportions,
each one a gem
ready to place value to all
lives willing to cradle
their worth with diligence.
But like many things,
it takes time
and great effort
to have them grow
each one a gem
ready to place value to all
lives willing to cradle
their worth with diligence.
But like many things,
it takes time
and great effort
to have them grow
337/365 Universe's love stuck in my throat
I find that heavy emotions make me feel more important when universe of love gets stuck in my throat
and I form words around the air being constricted I lover the feeling of mass and meaning being anchored in a sea of your own self-doubt.
I like drowning, like the thought of how many people would miss if I were gone.
The idea seems to give my life purpose,
but I'll never live to witness it.
and I form words around the air being constricted I lover the feeling of mass and meaning being anchored in a sea of your own self-doubt.
I like drowning, like the thought of how many people would miss if I were gone.
The idea seems to give my life purpose,
but I'll never live to witness it.
336/365 Pebbles
In the grand scheme, we are so small. We are pebbles thrown at the Sagrada Famillia.
We will never even make a dent to this beautiful structure.
So why do we say end of the world like it wasn't here before us.
Like it won't be here long after.
It just may not be called world,
it will called names far more beautiful.
Like the wind's blessed breath,
the inhale,
exhale,
of the trees.
It will be given better praises
than we could ever from our lips pronounce.
We will never even make a dent to this beautiful structure.
So why do we say end of the world like it wasn't here before us.
Like it won't be here long after.
It just may not be called world,
it will called names far more beautiful.
Like the wind's blessed breath,
the inhale,
exhale,
of the trees.
It will be given better praises
than we could ever from our lips pronounce.
335/365 Religion Scraps 1
*My mother is not religious,
Traded church attendance for a Miles Monroe novels,
tells me,
when she went to church,
so times the things they said (preached) didn’t FEEL right.
I am anything but religious.
Traded in bible study for a village of mentors,
I tell them,
when I read my bible,
some things I read did FEEL right.
I grew up in the church my mother found after I was molested.
It was where I got my first innocent kiss,
and where I learned being tall was beautiful,
especially on me
It was also the place were I voluntarily lost my virginity
towards the age of six.
[and] I’m sorry,
because I have thought of a pretty or poetic way to say that.
But all of this was proof,
that no thing,
no one
and no place
is 100% good or bad.
I was no safer in the church than I felt in my own body.
My mother is stubborn.
And when it comes to this family tree,
the apple didn’t…even…roll…
We both serve the same God,
so we spend time fighting over which doctrines to follow.
Snorting parchment
and choking on scriptures.
She offers proof of her absolutist beliefs in the form….
*Mother we are serving the same God,
the same guiding light.
Because how many of us still slice a lamb in sacrifice,
but you boast about reading the bible three times,
and walking in it’s word.
No, you walk by intuition.
Traded church attendance for a Miles Monroe novels,
tells me,
when she went to church,
so times the things they said (preached) didn’t FEEL right.
I am anything but religious.
Traded in bible study for a village of mentors,
I tell them,
when I read my bible,
some things I read did FEEL right.
I grew up in the church my mother found after I was molested.
It was where I got my first innocent kiss,
and where I learned being tall was beautiful,
especially on me
It was also the place were I voluntarily lost my virginity
towards the age of six.
[and] I’m sorry,
because I have thought of a pretty or poetic way to say that.
But all of this was proof,
that no thing,
no one
and no place
is 100% good or bad.
I was no safer in the church than I felt in my own body.
My mother is stubborn.
And when it comes to this family tree,
the apple didn’t…even…roll…
We both serve the same God,
so we spend time fighting over which doctrines to follow.
Snorting parchment
and choking on scriptures.
She offers proof of her absolutist beliefs in the form….
*Mother we are serving the same God,
the same guiding light.
Because how many of us still slice a lamb in sacrifice,
but you boast about reading the bible three times,
and walking in it’s word.
No, you walk by intuition.
333/365 Molestation
My mother never fully pronounces the word molest-, lestation, molestation *hard swallow*, some things still get smothered in her throat.
332/365 Stuttering
We have so many words for the way we carry weight. Tote, bring, baggage, carry.
So many names for the way our shoulders slump, the way boulder's gather community in our bellies.
Weight, mass, gravity, sinking.
The way our spines curve, self-esteems wein, bones bow.
There is no Native American word for stuttering.
There is no Pre-Colonial case of such a person having this problem.
It makes me wonder, if we didn't have a word, a diagnostic, for every little thing that could go wrong.
Would we spend so much of our time afraid that it would spend so much of energy on what we hope won't happen that they're the only thing been given enough energy to occur
So many names for the way our shoulders slump, the way boulder's gather community in our bellies.
Weight, mass, gravity, sinking.
The way our spines curve, self-esteems wein, bones bow.
There is no Native American word for stuttering.
There is no Pre-Colonial case of such a person having this problem.
It makes me wonder, if we didn't have a word, a diagnostic, for every little thing that could go wrong.
Would we spend so much of our time afraid that it would spend so much of energy on what we hope won't happen that they're the only thing been given enough energy to occur
330/365 Denying Feelings
When does it get to the point where
denying your feelings is necessary?
Where can I find the line between self-pity
and self-honesty.
Is it true when they say this heartache
never completely goes away?
When does ignoring your feelings stop being
denial and start being majority?
Is it a matter of inner resolution or out-ward closure?
denying your feelings is necessary?
Where can I find the line between self-pity
and self-honesty.
Is it true when they say this heartache
never completely goes away?
When does ignoring your feelings stop being
denial and start being majority?
Is it a matter of inner resolution or out-ward closure?
329/365 So many poems I could write on behalf of this delight
There is so much I could say,
So many poems I could write.
Too many stories could be noted
On behalf of this delight.
But pain is imminent now,
I've been through this before.
I tried too many times,
To open this same door.
Falling in love is easy,
Hitting the ground is not.
Especially when you find that love
was what you should have fought.
So for me to write of happiness,
Allow joy to fill my page,
Is to know I'm only hurting myself.
For soon that joy will blaze.
So many poems I could write.
Too many stories could be noted
On behalf of this delight.
But pain is imminent now,
I've been through this before.
I tried too many times,
To open this same door.
Falling in love is easy,
Hitting the ground is not.
Especially when you find that love
was what you should have fought.
So for me to write of happiness,
Allow joy to fill my page,
Is to know I'm only hurting myself.
For soon that joy will blaze.
328/365
Hardest thing about holding on
is realizing there is nothing to hold onto.
Hardest thing about being hurt
is knowinghe'll never feel that pain.
Hardest thing about moving on
is not knowing where you're going.
Hardest thing about seeing the sun after the storm
...I still wanthim to see it with me....
is realizing there is nothing to hold onto.
Hardest thing about being hurt
is knowing
Hardest thing about moving on
is not knowing where you're going.
Hardest thing about seeing the sun after the storm
...I still want
327/365
I do but then again,
I don't.
Or maybe it's that.
I don't then again, I don't at all....
~Yeah. That one's definitely it.~
I don't.
Or maybe it's that.
I don't then again, I don't at all....
~Yeah. That one's definitely it.~
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
15/30 At the beginning of the relationship
At the beginning of the relationship,
I was the sceptic.
You were the sweet talker who liked the way “forever” rolled off your tongue.
It’s amazing how soft and fluffy, [abysmal
appealing... sweet nothings can be.
I curled into the sweet,
until I ended up with the nothing.
You got me.
Or at least I made you think so.
I got tired of you contradicting me when I told you I wasn’t the one,
that we weren’t in love.
that our relationship was fated to be a moment.
[was fated to be]
Reality has a funny way of catching up to people.
In situations like these you really can’t fight it.
Once,
I made you promise never to tell me something you didn't mean.
I should've been more specific,
cause you surely meant to lie to me.
Destiny
has wrapped itself around us like a snake.
Deceit is part of the game
especially with worlds so young.
But is it wrong for this masterpiece to have dark strokes?
Dare we remove the darkness when it's so necessary?
It's okay if you love her,
okay if you love me.
Fine if neither or only one is true.
It doesn't matter.
In this relationship,
the most important three words aren't "I love you"
rather..."Here we are."
It's a declaration of meant to be if only for a moment.
The before,
after,
and all around has fallen away.
I’m stepping back.
Cause we're meant to be,
will to be,
I'll let it be,
let us be
"So be it
No worries"
I'm realizing
since day one
I’ve been fighting to rid my life of you
but i could never coerce my hand into letting you go.
Because I held on
I am my own savior.
At the end of the day it’s me.
I love me,
I need me,
I have me,
this fight is mine.
Relative to my life,
your significance is but a drop in my ocean.
I need every drop.
I need you.
But if and when I lose you,
I’m okay with it.
(9/365) I wanna cause you a miracle when you see the way I kept God's image alive
I've watched you scamper back to girl after girl once you've left them,
Promise to kiss them gently but pinned "insert tongue" signs on various places of their body.
You follow your own command forcefully.
But I've noticed,
you only return to the ones still reaching.
The ones who haven't quite let past pass,
the ones with no trust in the universe to bring them something better.
And you can boast all day long about the beauty of this one
and your feelings for that one,
but I know the truth beneath it all.
You're just a rat lookin' for scrapts.
You'll take whatever you can get,
And go ahead and call yourself selective
but a crumb from a five star restaurant
ain't a bit more special than the trash left over from the McDonald's down the street.
Believe that a well accredited Chef created me in His very image.
I can walk around flashin' my official goddess badge
but if I stoop to the mercy of your rat-like mouth,
I am just another crumb.
326/365 July 17,2011
Bathed my self in water,
let the wind kiss my neck
and the sun made love to me in broad daylight.
It make me wonder if anyone was watching.
But not enough to stop.
let the wind kiss my neck
and the sun made love to me in broad daylight.
It make me wonder if anyone was watching.
But not enough to stop.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
325/365 {cry}
Don't give me attention every time I cry.
For then I will begin crying to get your attention.
Teach me another way.
Teach me that I am enough.
That my mere presence is enough to steal your glance.
For then I will begin crying to get your attention.
Teach me another way.
Teach me that I am enough.
That my mere presence is enough to steal your glance.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
324/365 Free-write
I am a flower five seconds from bloom
hesitating in the jump,
I am a caterpillar forced butterfly
hanging limp from my cocoon,
would rather use it as a noose
than face one day of my potential.
I am playing Kakuro more hours a day
then I sharpen my pen.
Craving rewards for my efforts
Before i make them.
I am generation X,
claiming not to be.
I am wanting instant gratification
10 seconds prior to instantly.
I am making invalid excuses
and invalid reasons why they're valid.
I am very obviously fooling myself
and everyone else.
I am resume embellisher
lavish language layer.
Washed up actor with still a bit of skill.
hesitating in the jump,
I am a caterpillar forced butterfly
hanging limp from my cocoon,
would rather use it as a noose
than face one day of my potential.
I am playing Kakuro more hours a day
then I sharpen my pen.
Craving rewards for my efforts
Before i make them.
I am generation X,
claiming not to be.
I am wanting instant gratification
10 seconds prior to instantly.
I am making invalid excuses
and invalid reasons why they're valid.
I am very obviously fooling myself
and everyone else.
I am resume embellisher
lavish language layer.
Washed up actor with still a bit of skill.
323/365 Thunder
Do you hear me?
I started out as a slow rumble,
but she can't feel me this way.
She left cloud nine.
Started off as threat.
Then touch ground in a flash.
I know you see he flash
and can hear me right behind her.
Closer now,
louder now
I am angrier than I can stand.
Angrier than lower decibels will allow.
I started out as a slow rumble,
but she can't feel me this way.
She left cloud nine.
Started off as threat.
Then touch ground in a flash.
I know you see he flash
and can hear me right behind her.
Closer now,
louder now
I am angrier than I can stand.
Angrier than lower decibels will allow.
12/30-More of a Confession
Not so much a poem as a superbly needed confession and other ranting qualities.
We're talking about the numerous times I've been sexually violated.
I'm unsure how the whole healing process works for most people in these situations. I've heard a ton of talk about not blaming yourself and blah....
Don't think that fully applies for me.
I'm gonna go ahead and call it on this one
I have to own up to it.
I called these men to me.
Granted, I never wanted any of them to go as far as they did
but to pretend I didn't tempt them is foolish.
I've never had the capacity to be a victim.
I've always had a strength with me.
To claim that I was ever truly a victim is playing down my strength and leaving the door open for it to happen again.
Shutting down may sound a lot like trust issues.
Which I have but I also have a man who knows how,
and is worthy of breaking them down.
The universe has me covered.
Meanwhile, the talk of expressionism and symbolism today in Aesthetics and Performance had my mind on a tangent.
I want to create a play that develops and portrays the way it feels to lose your virginity in such a way. It will spare no feelings.
The main symbol will be a Chasity necklace.
All the ways it can be removed; falling off, snapped off, or gracefully floating down as the couple ascends.
voices, darkness, distortion can portray the image.
Sexuality must be portrayed.
yeah, until I feel like I've gotten it all out, I'm not quitting.
And with that poem.
I want it to feel the way "it" felt.
The slow, seemingly harmless seduction,
to the unyielding build.
Unsure of the ending however.
Could make it true to life,
or could make it what the audience wants to hear.
It's all questionable.
Then I have to wonder how it would do on a BNV stage if I want to make it an indi.
these are my thoughts.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
322/365 Free-write about Kyle
I’ve always wanted to be loved just the way you love me,
Down to my very hands and eyebrow frays.
I’ve always wanted to be held just the way you hold me,
with a gentle stroke and admiration of the things I was made from.
I turn to Savannah sand in your hands.
My mind races cheetah speed
I’m heart broken.
Down to my very hands and eyebrow frays.
I’ve always wanted to be held just the way you hold me,
with a gentle stroke and admiration of the things I was made from.
I turn to Savannah sand in your hands.
My mind races cheetah speed
I’m heart broken.
321/365 Morning free-write 7/6/11
The jester takes his time,
plays with the audience until
it is revealed.
Here’s the joke.
I sit outside with a pen and a creek in my hand.
The question is,
which is heavier.
I sit by a pool of my own thought,
the question is, which is light enough to skip across the water.
plays with the audience until
it is revealed.
Here’s the joke.
I sit outside with a pen and a creek in my hand.
The question is,
which is heavier.
I sit by a pool of my own thought,
the question is, which is light enough to skip across the water.
320/365 Letters 100
Dear Franklin
One thing separates you from the other guys I've been able to let go of is your friendship is actually worth keeping.
One thing separates you from the other guys I've been able to let go of is your friendship is actually worth keeping.
320/365 I am from 2
I am from delight lectibles foks,
I am from mother's womb
mother's south
I am from not quite making it West.
I am from mother's womb
mother's south
I am from not quite making it West.
319/365 B's Workshop 3
I am from God's home
I am from minus clouds
plus sunshine.
I am from disagreements,
mother's tears,
mother's attic.
I am from lighthouse,
fire,
blazing until fire burn out
the place you call home.
I am from red, white and blue lights,
from quiet,
from suburban meets sub-urban
from tumbleweed cities
and grassland green.
I am from do too little
say too much
do too little
lost hazel eyes
in thunderous clouds
all the more soft in person.
I am from racing dragonflies
slowing to a butterflies wing
slashing snakes
catching grasshoppers
smashing red bugs,
rolling polleys
and that red light that keeps flashing
in the corner of your eye.
That ticking bomb
turned out to be car alarms
empty space,
turned out to be mother's eye
white sheet
turned out to be blood stained
long legs
turned out to rip me.
There are few things in this world you get used to coming from,
So used to being.
I am pink bike
I am pink shorts
the neighbor realized matched my bike.
I am wind blown button ups
other poets
and their ideals.
I am the result of everything I've seen.
Everything I come form.
I am from minus clouds
plus sunshine.
I am from disagreements,
mother's tears,
mother's attic.
I am from lighthouse,
fire,
blazing until fire burn out
the place you call home.
I am from red, white and blue lights,
from quiet,
from suburban meets sub-urban
from tumbleweed cities
and grassland green.
I am from do too little
say too much
do too little
lost hazel eyes
in thunderous clouds
all the more soft in person.
I am from racing dragonflies
slowing to a butterflies wing
slashing snakes
catching grasshoppers
smashing red bugs,
rolling polleys
and that red light that keeps flashing
in the corner of your eye.
That ticking bomb
turned out to be car alarms
empty space,
turned out to be mother's eye
white sheet
turned out to be blood stained
long legs
turned out to rip me.
There are few things in this world you get used to coming from,
So used to being.
I am pink bike
I am pink shorts
the neighbor realized matched my bike.
I am wind blown button ups
other poets
and their ideals.
I am the result of everything I've seen.
Everything I come form.
318/365 Color 2
Grey.
Silver.
blue.
grey
silver
black red
red
blue
blue?
Light blue?
Translucent blue.
Rippled blue.
bleu?
Gray
silver
black
blue/bleu
HOT PINK
Silver.
blue.
grey
silver
black red
red
blue
blue?
Light blue?
Translucent blue.
Rippled blue.
bleu?
Gray
silver
black
blue/bleu
HOT PINK
317/365 B's Workshop 2
Black fuchsia,
red rose
Red rose
White.
Red rose
Red rose
Black fuchsia.
Lightbrown silkbrown caramel
Light Black
silk fuchsia
violet
purple
violet
violet
violet
white
off-white
peach
violet
Black fuchsia.
dark brown
violet
fuchsia
Black
red rose
Red rose
White.
Red rose
Red rose
Black fuchsia.
Lightbrown silkbrown caramel
Light Black
silk fuchsia
violet
purple
violet
violet
violet
white
off-white
peach
violet
Black fuchsia.
dark brown
violet
fuchsia
Black
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