A Queen (pt 2)

she can’t live without her other/because his strength gives her power/and his breath gives her life/so she was apart of him just as he was apart of her/he was her/and every morning she’d arise/hair combed, make-up applied/and headed into a world/not ready for her/broad shoulders and thin moustache/that was only seen because the way her lips curled at the corners/when she laughed/she was born different/born to be something she never felt she was/she never felt the thrusts of the secret between her legs/because in her head… she believed it was not real/a feeling she never, ever desired to feel… because she was never a man/at least not in her own eyes/but when she stepped into the streets/mean looks and evil smirks she would greet/stars and whispers she’d receive/from people who chose to perceive/her as an imposter/a fraud/a hypocrite/a worshipper of NO God/but this was not who she was/nor was it who he became/he was a woman in a man’s frame/a different character with a false name/because he always felt beautiful/she always felt best in a dress/yet no one chose to know her/because her was really a he/and he was not who he wanted to be/because in his eyes he was always a queen.

Let me preface this blog… by saying… that it is two parts (pumping it out as i type) and the second part will be # 9.

# 8 – A QUEEN (pt 1)

She was always really beautiful/and his words made her smile/but while he was inside her/the pain lasted only for a little while/because she was young/and he was old/she was naive/and he broke his oath/when he married her mother/she became his slave/the old man wanted her/youth is what he craved/and night after night/when her mother left for work/he would creep into her room/and tug at her bedskirt/she’d pretend she was asleep/and ignore his advances/mommy would be at work a while/so he’d definitely take his chances/to slide into her twin sized bed/and gently run his fingers across her head/whisper tales of punishments in her ear/and she’d give in to what she’d hear/because she knew her mother never would believe/the things she’d say about he behavior she’d received/from the man supposed to protect her/keep her hidden from evils like himself… but he didn’t/and she didnt believe/that her stepfather could be/the same man who stole her virginity/but he was/and this night is just like every other night/when he eased his hands lower/and touched her undercovers/in ways he touched her mother… so she’d close her eyes/as he killed her pride/every time he climbed on top of her and slowly slid inside/she was not yet a woman/but he pleasured himself like she was/and she withdrew herself from the world and became another empty soul/her life was just time wasted/she never gained control/never knew she was born a princess/who had a destiny to embrace/so she never took her rightful place/in the great big scheme of things/because he stole her crown when she was young/and she never became a queen.

# 4 – TOILET

Tired of talking about love and how he broke me down, knocked me out, whored around/So I decided to talk about… being love’s toilet/yes i said toilet, so just listen – dont spoil it/ Love used me like a toilet and pissed all over me/left stains around the rim he never intended to clean/and the stench still lingers of the piss he deposited for free/love used me like a toilet and did the nastiest thing to me/he stood over me and regurgitated/words he couldn’t comprehend and over-complicated/disgusting remnants of verbs, nouns,and conjunctions he stated/love used me like a toilet and shit all over me/filled my soul with the foulest odor/emptying his emotional intake into me left me over/flowing full of pains constant floaters/and for the longest time love would come adn go as love pleased/giving me the time I needed to finally get the chance to breathe/since love cant seem to grasp the reason why the soap dispenser’s next to my sink of constantly running water/… this toilet’s finally out of order.

From Stillpoetic: “So I decided to talk about… being love’s toilet/yes i said toilet, so just listen – dont spoil it” Unexpected very unexpected man oh man. WOW this is vile…. but dam good writing. I mean I can feel it. very descriptive. You held it down right here. Dam this is just plain wow. it was unexpected because o the flow of the poem, and I mant unexpected in a good way. I like its the surprise. sometmes poems can be predictable and the man oh man = No words I can say. I understand the different and I am like wow she is killin the game

From Arrive__Arcane:  now this is exploration!!!! you’ve taken the pain and got mad creative with it. brill. this is your direction and topic of interest and look what you’ve done with it. you wrote with craft and skill, substance and flair. i like this new but old feel to you. isly, i can dig this

# 5 – NOT

i am mystified/every time you come around i get misty-eyed/playin that game of he loves me/he loves me not/got/repetitive like so many petals i dropped/not/ because i was looking for a dream, that perfect partner for this two-man team/not/because i was looking for an answer but what i thought i had really didn’t matter/but/because in my reverie you were a king/treated me like a queen/and gave all of yourself to me/but that was just a dream/not/reality.

From Stillpoetic:  can i say one word????? DAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!  :-O

From Arrive__Arcane:  um um um…b-r-i-l-l

# 6 – TWO WORDS

Let me preface this blog… by saying… this is something that I handwrote while I cried. It’s not for you, it’s not for your judgement, it’s not for your comments. *However, you are welcome to comment if you would like.* It’s personal. It is for me. I merged two blogs into this one…

I cried today. I cried for Barack Obama. I cried for grandmothers and grandfathers. I cried for myself. I cried for Black people or African Americans. I cried for history. Today I sat on the couch and I cried. And I didn’t fully understand why the tears began or where they came from… but as they shed, it was revealed to me.

I cried for Barack Obama because I understand the loss of a grandmother.  My grandmother passed away in 2004 and to this day, I miss her very much. As he stood at the podium and paid homage to his own grandmother… “She was the cornerstone of our family and a woman of extraordinary accomplishment, strength, and humility… a quiet hero”… I couldn’t contain the tears that flowed at the memory of my own. My grandmother was a servant of many, a homemaker, a seamstress, a nurse to her children and her children’s children, a friend, an advice-giver, a soul-food cooking chef, a lender (*and my grandmother was not WEALTHY, but she always had a stash… so maybe she was wealthy in her own right). My grandmother was someone I aspired to be and still do. She was a loving wife, a master mother, and a strong sister. She cared for her family, friends, and even her enemies (though few). My grandmother. I cried as he cried today for his grandmother. Because I understood the love he felt for her, that love that moved him to tears even while he spoke to the adoring crowd. Those tears that trickled his face… trickled down mine as well. So I cried for him. Because I have the luxury to cry in private. I have no crowd waiting for me to speak. I have no flights scheduled for me as I journey across the states to scrounge up the last voters I can. I have no eyes upon me. I have no audience waiting for me to make a mistake. But he does. And he’s still going. He’s resilient. He’s brave. He’s educated. He’s hopeful. He’s proud. And he should be. He is apart of history. (Imagine that. History.)

I cried for myself because I did my part. I voted. I picked a side. I believed in the choice I made. I believe in my candidate. I’m not Republican, I’m not a Democrat. I pick who moves me, which candidate’s policies I believe in… I picked. Can you say the same? I pick who I want to win and who I believe will lead America in the direction I believe America should be going. I voted. I waited my turn and was happy to wait in line. For my turn to stand at the ballot and choose for myself. I didn’t want anyone choosing for me. I chose. Did you? Because I don’t want to hear comments/gripes/statements of any sort from someone who disagrees with the Presidential nominee who wins and you didn’t even vote. Don’t attempt to vote. Don’t try to get there. DO IT. Period. DO IT. I cried because I did it. And I’m so wonderfully happy that I did.

I cried for grandmothers and grandfathers who are no longer here to see this day. As powerful a time this is. I don’t see how anyone cannot vote. Imagine the countries where people don’t even have the option to vote. Imagine the time when WOMEN couldn’t dare vote. Imagine the day… when black people gave their lives for the OPTION. Now look at today. Women and black people are voting. They are planning to vote. They are excited to wait in line for hours… all day in places… just to get the chance to vote. My grandmothers and grandfathers are not here to see this day. They have all passed and went to a better place. But imagine the look on their faces to see this day. Imagine how proud they would be to see so many people wanting to vote and waiting to vote and VOTING?!?! I cried for them because I am here and I did my part. I cried for them because I simply miss them. And I would love to be able to come home and say “I voted Granny/Mu’deah/Grandpas.” But I can’t so I cried because I couldn’t. I cried for grandmothers and grandfathers all over the world who are no longer here. Simply because they are still loved.

I cried for Black people… because so many of us aren’t even acknowledging the history of this Election. “1. The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude. February 26, 1869.” Think about the people who were injured or lost their lives just to add that line to the constitution (and even when it was added, there was always intimidating ways to keep black people from doing so). I cried for those of us that won’t even vote… simply because “they don’t want to… their vote won’t matter”.  The single act of being able to vote is taken for granted by so many. There are people on probation wishing they could vote… and some of us don’t vote still. How many celebrities will it take to say something to us? How many family members have to drag us out to get registered and pick us up to make sure our vote counts? How easy it must be to be so careless. How hard it must be to realize you mattered… too late. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to be apart of this. Why you wouldn’t want to even have a say. No matter how you voted. Why wouldn’t you want to vote… SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU COULD!? Because history was built on moments like this. Because history will continue to be built on moments like this.  And I don’t want to be a ranting woman… but… Don’t you want to be apart of what could be history? Don’t you want to have a say in what happens to your life for the next 4 years? Don’t you want to be apart of the continuance of history that people died for? What’s wrong with people like this.

Today I cried.

OBAMA WON THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION!!!

“I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor’s lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.I have a dream today.”

“And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. ” - MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.

We’re on our way Martin. On our way. No we are not there completely… but we are on our way. And I thank you for seeing the dream. I thank you for letting it be known that the dream would come true. I have seen it for you. I have seen it with your children. I have seen it with my parents and family. I have seen that dream come true in front of my eyes. And as the tears flow… it’s not simply for tonight. My tears are for history. My tears are for dreams. My tears are for the moments that register. And if you cannot look at the history made tonight… and feel something…. then… I feel sorry for you. I wish you could feel what I feel. So much was lost for this dream, for this possibility. And if you feel nothing… I cry for you too.

I look forward to telling my children about this historic event. This event I NEVER IMAGINED WOULD HAPPEN IN MY TIME… and I am 26 yrs old!!!! I’m young. And I never thought it would happen IN MY TIME!?!? Look at the world we live in. Look at it for what it is. And recognize the history. Recognize the future that will come. Recognize… Open your eyes and see history. And be proud that you were apart of it. Be proud that you were here. Be proud that you didn’t have to give up anything to see it come true while you were on this earth.

We’re on our way Malcolm, on our way Rosa, on our way Medgar. We’re on our way… for all who gave their life for moments like this. Our president is a black man. History. And I am utterly happy. I am truly elated. I can’t stop the tears. I can’t stop the emotions. And I know when he speaks… I will tremble. I will feel his words in the pit of my soul. And I am here. I never thought. I never thought. I NEVER thought. And it is here. And I respect McCain for his words, although I don’t respect his audience. I respect McCain for giving a well-written speech. America is beautiful. America is growing. America is learning. America is evolving. And I am apart of it, just like you are. And that means something to me. I cry for you… because even if you don’t feel it. I do. I feel it for you. So let my tears become your own. Let my tears pour for you. Imagine them. Let them be your own. I am simply proud to be an American today. And there were moments when I thought America was beginning to fail me, still failing my people. And this. Is hope. HOPE. One simple man… created such hope… Yes we can.

If you feel nothing… It’s okay. I cried for you too.

So… I was given some prompts to help aid my writing styles. Three pics that were given to me from Mr. Parker that I took and let speak to me. Instead of waiting for that right moment, instead of waiting for that perfect inspiration. I let the pictures speak to me and this is what came to be. Feel free to comment. 

 -THE KEY #1

Let your soul melt into my soul and I will give you the key to unlock my being/Transfuse your spirit with mine and from my pores your core is seeping/Inhale the essence of my aura and yours becomes the reason I breathe/Shadows of your kissprints and ghosts of my lipstick tango across our bodies/As passion rests upon my hue like morning dew/I willingly decoded the mystery of myself for you/Unlocking my womb for our future/With each beat of your heart, my own you skillfully suture/With each gaze from your eyes, the words whisper from your mind to mine/Even when there are no words to be heard you comprehend them just fine/The idea that created equations stemmed from us… yes, WE/Because U + I = infinite love X eternity/My lifeline was created to intertwine with your lifetime/My waters could never nourish the seed without your pipeline/You merged into me and we unocked our being with the very same key/You were created for one purpose… to be apart of me.

               - DISCOVERY #2

This black cloud of uncertainty looms above me/I question why my words connect and reflect what I just dont see/An artist? I’m not she/She’s never been me/We’ve never been we/But as I dug down deep into the cavern of my emotions/I was quickly overwhelmed by the discovery I was approaching/Artistry is not a thing/It’s not a job, not a dream/Not a feeling, fading from my reach/Yet artistry was resurrecting itself within me/I’m finding her/The lonely woman that doesn’t acknowlegde her worth/The optomistic girl that believes there’s still good in this earth/The batter, bruised/The misused, abused, refused, and confused/They all forge the same path/Walk the same dark alley/All hearts beat as one and pass blood through the same arteries/They share sensations, revelations/ tears, fears/ joys, boys/ pains and gains/And it’s true they all share the same name. ARTISTRY. Artistry is inside me because she is me/This was my discovery.    

 - SOME THINGS # 3

So I have been wondering… what’s the big deal with Mr. Right? I mean… is Mr. Right Now so terrible? And maybe that is a weird question to ask, but… is it really that weird? Women live their lives hoping and praying that Mr. Right will come charging through on his great white steed and save the day when sometimes Mr. Right Now can do the same. I haven’t fallen into the “Men are dogs” category… but I am cautious and I move forward with extreme caution when it comes to the male gender. I mean, what’s wrong with simply letting Mr. Right Now be Mr. Right Now?

Women so easily want Mr. Right and will force that title onto any and EVERY man who comes their way. I guess it falls back onto the fairy tales we’re told and believe in when we are young, you know where the girl is always deserving of a Prince and they live happily ever after. And because women are wanting this Prince… we allow ourselves to be easily fooled into believing that the man we are with COULD BE Mr. Right that we settle for any and every kind of treatment from him. We pretend to be dumber than we are so he can always be right…? We pretend to be done with an argument so he can have the last word…? We settle. We subtract the bad things rather than compiling them and seeing why we shouldn’t be with him because we so badly want him to be Mr. Right.

Instead of acknowledging that he is Mr. Right Now. Because hell, no way is a woman supposed to allow a Mr. Right Now into her life, right? That’s morally absurd, eh? You might as well call her a whore! And there can be a lot of Mr. Right Now’s that women cling hold of and make Mr. Right. Because it’s nice to have someone to come home to. Nice to have someone on Valentines. Nice to have in-house… you know. Hell, it’s nice to have someone period, right? But having anyone is just not the same as HAVING someone who truly makes your heart flutter, your knees get weak, you get nervous when you see them so sometimes you stutter… All of that is gone when you just allow anyone into your life and hope you can MOLD them into Mr. Right. If you are accepting of him being just that and not trying to make him Mr. Right… just allowing him to be Mr. Right Now…. what’s wrong with that?

*And no, I don’t have a Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now… Just wondering. Any thots?