The Call

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My past has always been my Past and Present (combined). I’ve never been released from it.  I always thought that I dealt with my pain and abuse in a way that kept me comfortable and sane.  I wrote about it.  To me, it was my way of remembering, confronting, and fighting. With disgust and angst I bashed and battered all the wrong doing to a pulp. Apparently, I thought that I could beat the trauma away, even though it never occurred to me that (IT) kept coming back.  My writing seemed to get more and more distressed.  So much so, that I recently was forced to stop. First, I thought it was just “Writers Block” or me just being too busy.  Then, as the days turned to weeks I began to realize that something else was stopping me from writing.

For the past couple of months, something has called out to me. Something has brought my (past) outright and in my face. Lost letters suddenly appearing in-between the pages of a forgotten journal.  The review of an old manuscript that brought up “old” questions. Strange dreams and even stranger phone calls. New meetings, new people, new advice and viewpoints, and new lessons.

Whatever it was that was beckoning me, demanded my attention. For days, I began reading me.  I read through over 10 complete journals. I read my scribble on loose paper tucked away in drawers. I went through my websites, posts and drafts. My one liners, poetry, and short stories. My rambles, photographs, and even artwork.

What I saw was painfully heart-breaking and tearful. There was a constant, resounding, wailing cry in my writing. I found out was that (I) was sad, angry,  hurt, and bitter. Yet, convincingly content with my feelings. I realized that I  had protected hate within me. Hate became my friend and confidant. Hate was my defender yet my baby.  I even gave it a name (The Jackal) which will be premiering in short-story form hopefully in a couple of days. I became so crafty with my defensive techniques that I honestly believed that I had to nurture my hate to be a complete and whole person.

I’ve always spoke openly about my duality, my personalities (not clinical), my day and night. It has never been a secret about how my life transitions and slips in-between the good and the bad. Actually, I’ve somewhat embraced the differences because I believed that it made me more of an interesting person. But, most importantly this beloved hate of mine, does something simply intriguing to my writing. My hate has given to what I love the most (my work) an undeniable twist.  Therefore, believe me when I say that I have more than a bit of fear now. I’m petrified about what this fast approaching (change) may do to me and my ability to write. Which could be why I’ve ignored (it) for so long.

But, the CALL. This Call wouldn’t wait any longer. In a sense, the Mirror that I had eyed myself in (my Bipolar Mirror/Bipolar Mirror Skits) suddenly crashed and a new one appeared.  This other mirror had been hidden behind the first mirror.  Imagine me.  Imagine this. I freaked out!  WTH! Here, I thought my dress was already hiked and panties proudly displayed. Only to find out that there are ruffles, and layers upon ruffles, slips and petticoats, garters and stockings, layers upon layers before you/I can get to the goodies.

I’ve come face to face with the fact that I have been a hypocrite. Pointing fingers at others and their mess or lack of, just to make “My Mess” more acceptable. Holding on to a dreadful past and saying I’m moving forward because I’m confronting it and knowing with all my soul that I’m lying to myself and everyone else who loves me. I haven’t confronted anything. Because if I truly had, there would be no need nor want to hold on to it. It doesn’t make sense and hasn’t for years.  I’ve written about it often and shamelessly.

The Box  “I know that I am fragile, a bit damaged, cunningly beastly…. but you don’t…You can’t see it. You won’t be able to recognize it, even if you did… by chance… have one unspeakable moment to peer into me…It’s too ghastly and lurid for you to comprehend.

You are too perfect, so perfect to ever know evil; even when your holding it in your hands.

So, put me back… in the box….quick.

Continuum  …”Itching.. I scratch holes in my skin..
twisting and restless..I pick through my flesh
Anxiously, I scrape; (to get the bad out)
but the drips they suckle

Instead, of watching them go hungry..I feed them
Lest, they thirst..how will I survive.”

I’ve held on to Hate but claimed I wanted Love.  Hate monopolized so much of me that Love would never be able to fit. My life has been a big contradiction and it’s no wonder why I’ve been so confused.

I talk about the Love Movement so much, and how it is fundamental in anything and everything. Yet, I casually brush it away every time it lands on my shoulder.

“The Call” is LOVE.  Love called out to me..and I listened. Not just physically. My soul listened. I heard and felt the sound, clear. Love for me. Love just for me. Not given to me because it’s meant for me to share. I’ve done that. I’ve always given all the love I could hustle up to everyone else. On the surface, that’s what kept me going for all this time. Constantly passing. Passing it on, from hand to hand, project to project, charity to charity. Passing along and making others happy, kept me happy. Only because I felt that it would be selfish and futile to keep some for myself.  My hate and mess could never be conquered; so why bother. I convinced myself that if I ever kept love for myself that it would be “Thievery”. It’s stealing if you take something that you were never meant to have. Giving it all up was the right thing to do.

This time, The Universe,  called out to me. For me to hold on to, for me to keep, for me to heal away the hate; the hate that I thought kept me safe.  LOVE gently and tenderly shooed hate away.  Now, I understand that Love is all I need.  Love without acceptance. I don’t have to welcome the bad as apart of me, because it was bad that was inflicted on to me. I have never been forced to commit. I chose to commit to my hate out of fear. Now, I release it out of love. True love. Love for what brought me here (at this place) and in this state of mind.  Love for the Woman that I am TODAY. But, also love for my past and the girl who was left behind.  Love will tell my story and only with the hopes of retrieving more love…will be my motivation to write it.

Besides, I’ve tried Hate for so long, wouldn’t it be just as sensible to try Love?

My personal affirmations:

Love is my eyes and ears to ward against Hate.. if Hate should ever try to claim another mirror.

I can see myself clearly and without blemish only through the love-filled eyes of the Universe…(I see me just as I am seen)

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My Mommy’s Birthday Song

moms song

It seems almost ridiculous for me to buy a birthday card for you.  Two main; pertinent reasons why.   First, I’m a writer.  Second; and the most important, there is no card, or letter, or monument  created by anyone other than myself, that would say or express half of what I want and need to say…to you.

As long as I can remember, I have watched you.  I have admired you.  I have questioned you and some of the decisions that you made.  I have loved and even disliked you (at times).

But, the one resounding and consistent truths..is that YOU have always been Free.  You have never hid your ups and downs.  You have been open about your confusion and uncertainty about direction.  You have loved and disliked me; and told me in very clear voice when you did.

You have been FREE.  Free to prance in your own way.  Free to belt out in uneven pitch YOUR OWN SONG.

Free to dance to whatever music you hear for the day.  Free to choose.  Free to build or destroy.

Free to make your own path and dare anyone tread it without your permission.

Despite the past truths…of those or them…or (him).  He who tried to take all from you.  He who wanted to silent and muffle your song.  Who wanted to pluck your feathers..You never yielded.  YOU always fought.  You always stayed and lingered on your own ground. You always claimed what was rightfully yours.  Never giving up!

Never allowing your soul to be taken.

Never to be defined.  Never to be broken.

Undeniably, Unmistakable, Irrefutable..You.

Your day..is and will always be YOUR DAY.  There is no one like you.  No one that can compare or come close.

However, if by chance or opportunity your attributes could be split..they would be divided between your three daughters:

The Crazy.. The Cool..and The Sexy (what you affectionately call us).

You taught me  that I am a woman.  Not, a mere Woman.  Not a meek Woman.  But a Glorious Reflective woman… who is Free!  Free to do whatever she chooses.  Free to float… and laugh when she sinks.

I’ve always been able to take my hands and press them tightly to my ears..spin in circles and hum..hum..”I don’t care…I don’t care…I don’t care”. At times mimicking your screech..”I don’t care..I don’t care..I don’t care”.

Not listening to what anyone else said I should. Maintaining my own voice and sound.

I SING YOUR SONG  TOO, MOMMY!   “I love YOU!  I love YOU!  I love YOU! and I don’t care..I don’t care..I don’t care.”

 

Happy Birthday Mommy.

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Single Life

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Sometimes, I think about my life and imagine how wonderful it would be to have that “special” someone.  I think about how awesome it would be to have a best-friend that I can tell all my secrets too.  I imagine how cool it would be to have an Awesome Human Being, that could see straight through my BS.. and instead of criticize me, think it humorous and laugh with me while we figure it out.

Sometimes the idea of being able to call someone “My baby, My love, My partner” seems so warm and inviting.

Sometimes the “Visionary” in me..dreams of how fantastic it would be; to be no longer be single…to live Happily Ever After…To Marry..To Rise and Fall with someone..To have no more lonely nights or cold beds.

But…

when I think about the consequences of giving up my “Single Life”..

when I think about the possible drama that may ensue..

when I think about the time and space that could be lost..

when I think about submitting, sharing, and relinquishing control over some aspects in my life..

or even more embarrassing to admit..when I think about my past relationships and some of  my friends current afflictions..

I start to think that maybe..(just maybe)..”Single Life” is not so bad.

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He does

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He does..

 

I screamed from the kitchen in my loudest, sweetest voice…”I love you as long as the Sun SHINES…and the Water FLOWS!” with a smile so bright and an inside giggle.

(Footsteps)

Behind me appears…and whispers in my ear “I love you even if the Sun never shined and all I could do was feel you” (while gripping my waist and tugging me close)   “I love you even if there was no water. Your wet kisses are more than enough to keep me hydrated”..

“Funny” I smirk and turn to face him..”Let’s see just how wet my kisses are..”

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Taking off the limits…

Image Credit: Erykah Badu
Stand Before Me and Tell Me I'm Not the Reinca...
Image by Liam Key via Flickr

Bare.

Stripped of lack, disappointment, judgment, fear, hurt, or hypocrisy.

Naked of anger, pretense, and melancholy.

Taking off illness, dis-ease, and pain.

Taking off.. “I can’t”, “I shouldn’t”, “I’m not good enough”.

Taking off worry and stress

No limits. No holding back…(not today).

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(Your IT) 20 Questions for the Social Dating Website

Showing some love

Has anybody thought about some of the social networking/dating sites protocol or is it just me? I confess that I have messed around in more than a few social hook-up sites.. Shoot, I’m single and I spend most of my free-time on the computer, so why not?

But, there’s one in particular that is quite amusing to me..and I admit maybe it’s due to my gullibility or naivety or maybe me just wanting the world to be better than what it is it, that initially I thought I was just joining a dating site or a place where I can meet, greet, hang out and possibly find my “soul-mate”. ..Imagine my surprise when I realized that my expectations were as unrealistic as me winning the $300 million lottery and moving to Fiji.

So, first I signed up created a cute simple pic profile then I was free to browse.. immediately I was getting hit with friend request after friend request..”Hell, yeah! This is cool!” but then I clicked on the profiles and saw the prospects…

“Ummm…. I got some questions..”

1. Why are people posing in the bathroom with their camera’s; for their profile pics? ?

2. Why do the guys have their shirts off in the pics?  or raised up (showing their imaginary abs?)

3. Why in the hell are there floating roses on your profile page, and your a guy?  Better yet, Why in the “F” do you have a fake plastic rose in-between your teeth, while laying in bed?

4. Why does your status say “It’s complicated”?  What’s complicated? Is that why your taking pictures of yourself in the bathroom?

5. Why the hell do you keep poking me? If I poke you back then what?

6. “T’Chakka Omega Psi Squid 4 Duck, winked at you”..WTH! and what is “Squid 4 DUCK?  Is this a trade off of side dishes or pet squids or pet ducks?

7.  Oh..yeah why we talking about “Pets”  Why ya’ll buying people and calling them pets?  and Why do you wanna be the “Top Priced Pet?”  and WHY are there PET WARS? What do you get if you win?

8. Why is there only 1 profile pic of you? and Why does it look like a copy of one of them posters at Fu Lee’s Chinese Restaurant? Are you trying to get  a Visa?

9. Why do you keep sending me messages asking if I have yahoo messenger? and telling me to put you on my instant messenger list? For what?!  You see my green light on, so you know I’m talking to you now. So why do we have to just talk on messenger?

10. Why are you sending me cartoon flowers and Teddy Bears?  Ain’t I worth real Teddy Bears and some Real Flowers?

11.  Why you gotta high-top fade on your picture? Well, let me say Polaroid? You don’t have a camera phone? Do you have any friends that will be willing to take any recent pics of you? Where you in an accident?

12. Why you don’t have no full length pics?  Why can I just see you from the neck up? and why you got a Philly cap covering your face but you say you in Dallas?

13. Why does it say that your age is 101? Is that a code or something?

14. Why you keep sending me this lame ass line, “Roses are red , and violets are blue, we go good together like 2 + 2 , i would never cheat ,or beat , id always stay true , so do text me sumtimes and lets see what it do?”  (every damn day at about 3 p.m.) Is it programed or something?

15. Why you all hugged up with someone in your pic, but you say you single?  Is that your cousin?

16. Why you keep sending me a friend request, how many rejections does it take for you to automatically become my friend?

17. Why you and your wife sending me friend requests?  Don’t ya’ll know that if I accept you both, you’ll both know about each other?  What, ya’ll like drama?

18. (You have a new message from Tickle ME)  “ Hello:) Do u like to tickle? i would love for u to make a video of you tickling someone for five min and send it to ******@yahoo.com” Why?!  Is this a fetish or something?  and who am I tickling? Is it anybody? What if it’s my grandmother? and do I get paid?

19.  Blond Girl, from Flat Rock, AL, Why is your profile name “Strictly Dick-ly? and  Why do you keep contacting me about hooking up?  DO you have a ding-y? or do you think I have one? My profile clearly states that I am female.

20.  Girls..women..I would love to call you ladies but (Nope)..Why are you posing in a 2 piece, “itty bitty string bikini“? When you need to be in a one piece with a sarong on? and why is it that you always pose with the messed up thigh showing that got a big burned mark, or some kind of scar or is that a birthmark, or is that a rites-of-passage tribal marking?

Damn..I should’ve known this was gon’ be booty…I never liked the game “tag” as a kid, I thought it was stupid..plus I don’t like the idea of somebody chasing me down and hitting me…I guess that’s the point..hunh?

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Broken Promises

Image Credit: Herr Fous

Image Credit: Tenth Amendment Center

I never asked you to love me. But, you insisted..

You promised that you would be different. That you would love me unconditionally and not want anything in return. That your love would be so powerful that I wouldn’t be able to refuse..

For a moment, I actually thought you had me. Gradually, I heated and accepted you slightly. I allowed you to stay longer hours, I saw you more frequently..at times I even missed you.

Your love.. so beautiful but too unrecognizable for me..

I owe you no apologies, honesty never left me.. I have always been truthful with you. I warned you that I would vanish when love grew too complicated. I told you that I couldn’t be trusted to love you back.

I fought your fight too, but evil always prevails in my life.

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Karma

love hate

Rumble?! Just what is that? It’s my jargon’s, my mess, my silly thoughts, my humanness (if that’s a word). And today-it’s my face reality, grow up, move on, deal with it, pep talk (for me).

It’s seems almost insane that I wouldn’t go “insane” after this last break up. I don’t want to blast, but why should I not? Are not these MY rumbles?!

Everything in my being, tells me that what happened was meant to happen. Everything in my being soothes me and tells me that “everything” is going to be alright. I will move on. I will love again. I will trust and want someone again. There is something that has been whispering in my ear..”Karma..honey. Karma.. will deal with “it” .

But, then there is this FORCE! This force inside of me that say’s “F” Karma unless it’s “your” name. Something inside of me is so enraged and pissed. There is something like a drifting thread; spinning within my veins, that SCREAMS “F” Karma. “He” wasn’t thinking about Karma when he did what he did. “She” wasn’t thinking about Karma when she-did what she did. So. I am left to ponder. AM I KARMA? Can I be KARMA? Am I the one that can “Get” them back? Should I turn the tables? Should I seek revenge? Is it possible that I could hurt him, the way that he has hurt me? Is it possible that evil could linger in my body just as it churns in him?

AM I THE MIGHTY, POWERFUL WIND CALLED KARMA?

As I write this, and my fingers anxiously pace back and forth. I realize that NO, I could not hurt him the way he has hurt me. NO. I could not do evil because I couldn’t recognize it within him, because I had none in me. Even though my heart races and my pulse burns, at the thought of the pain he has caused me, even though, I have felt such intense anger that I thought I was losing my mind and would be subjected to medication if my thoughts were ever made public, I have felt anger like I never knew that “I” could be possible of. Even through all of it, I know that The evil that “HE” carries is distinctively his. He owns it and it’s most likely best that I stay as far away from “It” as possible so that it won’t.. bleed on me.

Yes! I believe in KARMA and right now she is telling me to “Run, Run, as fast as you can; into the LIGHT”.

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BLACK BEAUTYS SONG

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I sing on top of mountaintops

I sing at births and weddings

I sing at jazz clubs

in Hip-hop clubs

Reggae fests and

Auditoriums

plays and musicals

parks and supermarkets

bathrooms and bedrooms

I sing of into the night talks and 5 a.m. runs and walks,

Of holding hands while walking through the mall

Of tender back of the neck kisses and gentle ear caresses that mimic it all

I sing of black on black love that stood through thrashes and rapes

A love that stood through hound chases and over the broom disappointments

A love that floated to the top of the sea, above tarnished ancestral bones

A love that passes through prison cells and ghetto walls

A love that crawls over mountains and dances through high

grass

I sing in your ears babies

On my knees baby

I sing of good mornings and restful nights

Red roses and bottled wine

Lingerie delicacies

Secret fantasies

Loud love and hushed moans

I sing of hope and resurrection

I sing of peace and friendship

I sing of warmth and comfort

I sing of kisses and tears

From blue-black to the lightest of the beige

From nappy to the nappiest

From the tallest to the shortest

From the thickest to the bony

I sing black-beauty’s song

Loud and soft

Hard and tuff

Black-beautiful-black

I sing, I sing, I sing

Because of my Mama and my daddy

Because of my grandmother and grandfather

I sing because of my daughters and sons

I sing because I got too

I sing because God told me too and because

Oshun blessed me to

I sing

I sing through tears of remembering and heartache from understanding

the pain of yesterday that creeps into today

but, I sing of rebuilding, mending, and feeding black bellies

of planting and watering fields of black hearts and souls and making them

healthy and whole

I sing black beauty’s song and it sounds so sweet

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