Musyc's Lyrics

Random Acts of Poetry: The Chains

2012-03-24T13:39:00.000-07:00

I watched you walk in
and the face you showed me was the face of a child
not like the face of an animal
which is what they seemed to want to call you
and you looked ashamed
ashamed that you had brought us here
but you also looked relieved
relieved that we had come
and had not left you to face this alone
and I was holding it all together
Being strong as it always seems I must
That was, until I heard the sound of the chains
You see,
I could remit you to this juvenile jungle they call a center for change
a place for correction
but I could not bear to see the chains
wrapped around your hands and feet
as if you would fight them
as if your fear of them wasnt already apparent
as if you werent a small, skinny, scared little boy
who just so happened to commit a grown mans crime
who just so happened to act on a impulse
that his unbalanced brain made seem like a good idea at the time
and his newly balanced brain told him was a very very
very
bad idea
but the chains
the tinkle of them when you walked or adjusted your stance
or when you raised your hand to say hi
in a discreet way
i wanted to run to you and rip those chains off
those chains are not for my children, they are for other mother's children
they are for the bad children
the lost children
not for a child I walked with in the middle of the night when his teeth were cutting through
not for a child I bathed and sang to (badly, I must admit, but you loved it just the same) and hugged and cherished
there should be no chains on MY child
yet there were
and that's when I knew what I must do:
free you from those chains any way that I could
because no child of mine should be in chains
and no chains on my child should haunt me the way your chains haunt me
it was the chains, my son, that made me see that this is not the life I will allow you to accept.
no chains on my child.

Random so random

2012-03-10T19:01:00.001-08:00

When I want to say no to you
My mouth stops working
My tongue goes dry
My teeth glue shut
I cant speak
When I try to walk away
Something strange happens:
My heart stops beating
Like a child that holds her breath until she gets her way
My heart tries to kill me
Until I find my way back to your arms
And my body cant say no to you
Every inch of my skin screams for your touch
I melt under your fingers
You dominate me with every kiss, every stroke every lick
I am utterly yours
And you belong to me and anyone else who takes a fancy to you
I have to share even though I dont want to
*when your partner cheats, the hurt is enough to make you stay, just so that you dont have to be alone*

Random Acts of Poetry: My Heart Song, No Song (so random)

2012-02-18T17:14:00.000-08:00

I used to be able to pull into myself
I could retreat deep within myself
Shut the world out
and bathe in my hurt
When the hurtwater got cool, I would emerge with new skin
and fresh eyes and attack the world anew
I no longer posess that ability
I tried to pull into myself
To take my pain bath
and I couldn't
It's like someone was blocking the path
I could see the bath:
steaming and waiting for me
But I couldn't get there
I couldn't reach it
I am stuck here in this world
with no heart song
with hardly any heart at all
and I feel something in my chest
that I thought should be pain
but it doesn't quite feel like pain
I am hurt
I am so hurt
But I can't quite cry, I can't release it
and I can't get to my bath
So I sit here, with my heart trying to break
but it can't
with my heart trying to sing
but it has no song
Oh, you were my heartsong
my heart knew you better than it knew me
it embraced you and sung your praises and loved you
loved you without end and more than anyone else
and with me trying to turn my back on you,
with me trying to pull away from you
my heart is confused and it cannot sing and it has no song
I am here and I am empty and I am lost and I am lonely
And I don't quite know what to do or where to turn
and I can't unblock that road
I've always taken painbaths
That's how I deal with my pain
Now I'm hurt and I have no bath and I have no direction
I Don't Know What To Do
My heart whispers
No Song.
No Song.
It screams your name
It longs to sing
But I have taken your name out of my heart
and stolen the song
No heart song
No song
No heart
My chest beats empty

Random Acts of Poetry: I Give Up (so random)

2012-01-29T20:37:00.000-08:00

There will never be a day or time
Where I tell you I don't need you
Where I tell you I don't bleed you
and I dont love you
You are far from perfect
You are more like a stab wound in my heart
That won't heal, that can't heal because you keep stabbing it
My pillow stays wet from tears
and I have never felt more alone in my life
But I love you
and I see the potential in you
And I know the love you have for me
that exists in your heart
and I know that beneath that rough exterior
You love you
You love me
So I won't give up
I am holding on to you
I will never let go
I will never say
I give up
You belong to me and I belong to no one but you

Random Acts of Poetry: Untitled

2012-01-28T18:33:00.000-08:00

I'm tired
Deep in my bones I feel a weariness that I cannot explain
It's hard to even drag myself through my days
Every minute is an eternity
and it feels like time will never end
I have given you
everything
everything that I could possibly give one ungrateful person
and now
I'm simply tired
You have drained everything from me
I am empty
and lonely
and I have nothing left
Nothing for you
Nothing for my children
Nothing for myself
I'm tired
I'm tired of fighting a battle that I am destined to lose
I'm tired of giving everything and receiving less than nothing in return
I'm simply tired
I'm ready for sleep

Random Acts of Poetry: Come and See

2012-01-24T18:34:00.000-08:00

Come and see
I have something to show you
It is very unlike me to share
but I can't hold this anymore
I cant keep this anymore
I have to unload
I have to unload
I have to give this to someone else
Someone stronger than me
Cant you see my back breaking?
Please come see my curve
The curve of my spine that bends under the weight of this thing that rests on my back
that wont let me rest
that gnaws at me when I close my eyes
Come
Take
My
Load
Come and see
The pain
Oh, the pain
that I cant describe, but I feel all day long
can you hear the song that plays in my head
Come and see my lyrics
See the lyrics of my soul
Shhh, listen:
My soul wants you to hear her
Come and see
and Rest a spell
The dark is closing in on me
It hurts
It hurts
It hurts
and I am afraid
from every corner, from every place
its coming for me
The dark is coming for me
Its coming for me
and I cant get away from it with this load on my back
take my burden please
Take it from me
Just for a while
Let me get away before the darkness takes my load
Before the darkness takes control
Before the darkness takes me
Before it takes me
Before I'm gone
Come and see
Come
and
see
Save me

Random Acts of Poetry: Standing

2012-01-20T17:06:00.000-08:00

From my spot on the floor
All I could do was kiss your feet
From my spot of worship
Every part of you filled my life with unspeakable joy
Down here
In the dirt, with the filth
You gave me something to look forward to
Even though you walked over me
Kicked me
Spat on me
I basked in the rain of your spittle
You gave me a reason
You gave me THE reason
To look up
Beneath the rain of blows
Beneath the torrent of abuse
Your harsh words
I thrived
My broken bones mended themselves with strength
Strength that I didn't know could be had
and now I'm standing
I see your face now
It was once hidden by the clouds way up there
from my perch on the floor
and I dont like what I see
Nothing about you brings light to me
Now that I'm standing
I understand that the floor is not where I belong
you kept me there to control me
to make me utterly yours
and I am yours no more
Because now that I stand,
I can see clearly
There is a world that exists beyond your feet
There is a sun that shines when IT wants to,
not when YOU want it to
I hope you take a good look at me
See my smile?
You've never seen that before because you've never given me a reason to show it to you
Take a good
Long
Look
This is the last time that you'll see me
Because now that I stand
I can walk away

Random Acts of Venting

2012-01-07T12:53:00.000-08:00

Yup, I'm ranting. I have every right to say what's on my mind and there is nothing that you can do to stop me. What you CAN do is close this tab on your browser of choice if you do not want to read something that probably applies to you and will definitely piss you off.
Go ahead.
I'll give you time.
...
Ok, if you're still here, then you're ready to read what I have to say. And boy, have I been waiting a LONG DAMN TIME to say it:
ALL YOU TRIFLING MOTHERS OUT THERE:
Please stop using your children for financial gain. Your child should be someone who enhances your life, encourages you to do better with yourself and is someone that you take the time to mold into an asset to society. You are supposed to train your child up in the way that they should go and what you teach them and show them is what they will carry for the rest of their lives.
First and foremost: stop having "baby daddys" and step your standards up and get yourself a husband. If you already have "baby daddys" stop holding your child hostage until your childs father gives you money. I agree that men should be financially responsible for theiir children, but keeping your child away from them because they are late with a payment or don't have the money is hurting your child. You wouldn't stand there and punch your child in the face because you don't have 10 bucks, would you? (if you answered yes, please call CPS and turn your child over) No, you wouldn't and keeping them from their father is the same. this does not apply if the father is abusive or a pedophile. In that case, punch YOURSELF for having a child with that loser.
And stop haing babies so that your welfare benefits go up. I actually met a woman who pointed to her 2 babies and said "you see these two? them my checks!" It's downright pathetic to me that women have these children and expect the government and everybody else to take care of them. Keep your legs closed and your birth control on standby if you don't want, can't afford to have or don't like kids.
ALL YOU STUPID PARENTS OUT THERE WHO STOOD IN LINE TO GET THE CONCORDS:
If your child is under the age of 15 and asked you for the concords and you went out and bought them, shoot yourself. If your child is 16-22 and they asked you for the concords and you went out and bought them, shoot yourself. If your child is 23 and over and they asked you for the concords and you went out and bought them, shoot yourself. A child under the age of 15 who knows enough about shoes and release dates and things like that to ask for a pair of $200 shoes obviously has their minds on the wrong things. You should've taken that money and bought them new books or educational supplies or put it in a savings account for them when they get to college. A child 16-22 is old enough to work and buy their own shoes. Nuff said. A child that asked you after the age of 23 is a grown damn person and should be working to buy their own stuff. Why would a grown person be asking their parent for shoes anyway? That shows a flaw in your parenting. (the shoot yourself statement still applies)
We as parents must show our children better. I am proud to say if you asked my kids what a concord was, they would say an exotic, nearly extinct bird. (they would be thinking about CONDOR, but they wouldn't say: "the new J's")
TO ALL YOU TRIFLING BABY FATHERS
Why don't you just strap up? No really. Everybody hands out condoms for free and you know you don't wanna wife these rats that you're fucking, so why bring a kid into that mess? Let me tell you one thing:
If she hawked you, talked you up, followed you around, then told you she was on BC and you didnt have to wear a condom, then she's either burning or ovulating. Period.
No self respecting woman will let a man have sex with her without a condom. Diseases run too rampant and we women have sensitive lady parts. We want them clean and disease free.
Do yourself a favor, save yourself a lot of hood drama and save the happiness of a child you didn't want by strapping up. Every time. Until you put a ring on it.
TO ALL YOU LAZY, TRIFLING, STUPID AND SHIFTLESS WELFARE RECIPIENTS:
Get a job. Just get a job. Stop milking the government and talking about "what? it's free money." These programs are designed for people who need them. They are not meant for you to get pregnant and say "this money is gonna pay for my baby since Ray Ray aint give me no money". That's bullshit. I wish I could kick you off the Pit of Death while screaming THIS IS SPARTA!!!
When you decide to have a child, you should make the conscious decision to provide for that child. If you had sex with a loser who disappeared after you told him the good news, you STILL have to provide for that child (but kick yourself for that stupid decision). I am a person who loves to help people so I am glad programs like TANF and food stamps and daycare vouchers exist. I know plenty of single mothers and fathers who would not survive if they didn't have them. But the difference is that there are too many of you NIGGAS (black white peter rican asian purple orange green, man woman anything in between, yall all NIGGAS if you won't take care of your seed) abusing the system, making it hard for people who need it to get it. Stop being trifling and get a job. You don't need experience to flip burgers. You don't need a degree to clean buildings. When you EARN your money, you take pride in your purchases. Buying the concords with your welfare check is detestable.
TO ALL THE WOMEN WHO DON'T KNOW WHO THEIR CHILD'S FATHER IS AND ALLOW ANOTHER MAN TO THINK IT BELONGS TO THEM:
There is a special place in Hell for you. Don't worry. You'll see it soon enough. But for right now, you know you're wrong. I'm sure that by the time you spill the beans (if you ever do) that man will love that child so completely that he will continue to care for them, but he will definitely beat the shit out of you. And he should. That offense is right up there with killing puppies and kicking retarded kids. I'm smh. You should be ashamed of yourself, but I know you aren't.

I'm exhausted. I have more, but I will have to touch on it later. If you're mad, so what. Stay mad. It had to be said. So I said it.

The Man Who Wasn't There Part 2

2011-12-13T19:54:00.000-08:00

I slept
Soundly at first, because you weren't there
I had wonderful dreams
of success and money and glitz and glamour
I was going to a conference
and I was to meet my husband at the airport
and there you were,
holding my suitcase, with fuschia roses
and a huge smile on your face
"Hey sweetie, ready to go?"
My God
your voice
your voice
you spoke and my whole world stopped
the airport melted away
and I was in your arms
in our bed
our bed
and the things that you whispered in my ear
were the things that I've missed for so long
the things that are only said between lovers
in the darkest hours of the night
and you talked to me the whole night long
your voice and your tongue both in my ear
your hands running familiarly over my body
you inside me, rocking me
rolling with me
controlling me
dominating me
letting me know with every stroke that I belong to you
reminding me with your rhythm that we were made for this
the scene that I've longed for so long
so beautiful
filling that empty space with your love
with your voice
I cry out in passion and fulfilled longing
tears leak from my eyes
happiness and joy and a sense of coming home
of being where I belong saturates me
then the sunlight hits my wet eyes
and I awaken, hugging my pillow
so cold
so alone
you're not here
you're not here
I know where to go to see you
I know where to go when I need you to be mine
But what will I do when you're no longer there?

Internal

2011-12-11T15:55:00.000-08:00

I want to take you in me
Inside me
To show you my insides
My blood flow
Show you the things that make me tick
I want to show you how my lungs take in air
then let it out
to show you the electricity of my brain waves
the beating of my eardrum
the wetness of my mouth
the flash of light that my teeth see when I smile
I want you to see my belly
the joy that resides there
how it rumbles from laughter all day long
I must show you my skin, how it's set on fire when you touch it
see the flames in my blood flow?
I want to show you the vibrations of my thigh muscles
the strength in them increased from the frequent squeezing of them to hold you in
I must show you my toes
How they dance and wiggle in laughter
How they curl in ecstasy
How they purr when you're rubbing them
And of course we stop at my waterfall
And even though you've met her quite a few times before
I'm sure the view is more interesting from here
because, see, she melts when you get too close
she floods herself, over and over, the more you touch her
And the shaking vibrations, the squeezing and shuddering are likely to kill her one day
but she loves it
so don't stop
Then I want to show you my heart
Don't be afraid of what you find there, because it is what causes all these wonderful things in my body
Take a look inside my heart
Look in the mirror there
and see what I live for
See what I love for
You are internal...

Random Acts of Poetry: The Man Who Wasn't There

2011-12-03T16:58:00.000-08:00

I can't sleep
I strain to keep my eyes open
and my mind alert
I'm not ready to slumber
To allow my mind to go
where it naturally goes
once I let go of it
So I guess it's not that I can't sleep
I simply don't want to
I don't want to see you there
because I can't control what happens
I wonder if you meet me there on purpose
I wonder if that is where you allow your body to say
what your heart feels
where your eyes tell me all your secrets
All the secrets that I know,
but choose not to acknowledge
because to acknowledge means I must act on them
And "acting" isn't something I do well
When I close my eyes to sleep, I see you
You're waiting for me
Always in the corner, almost out of sight
but not quite
Never saying anything, but saying so much
You're waiting for me
I can't help but go to you
Can't help but long to be near you
The longing between us a tangible thing
Loud, so loud
The sound of our loneliness a melody for this dream
If I can hear you this time, I might lose it
I might lose the edge of sanity that I have been holding on to
Because, when I'm sane, I am happy in my life
I do not want you, nor think of you, nor miss you
but I've never been quite sane
I can't help but show my agony when my mind drifts to you
as it always somehow does
I can turn my mind back to reality when I'm awake
but, oh, when I'm sleep
When I'm sleep, I'm yours
completely
We fit together like we were made together
Your fingertips leave trails of fire everywhere you touch me
I burn with a desire that I haven't known since you left
Flames engulf me
Smoke surrounds us
The lonely love song now one of erotic ecstasy
God, how I've missed your body against mine
Your lips on mine, your arms around me,
you inside me
You know it,
your eyes say it, your fingers acknowledge it
I feel it with every move of your body
I lay my head against your chest
I ask you: what took so long?
why won't you come back to me?
why won't you tell me what your eyes are trying to say?
I feel a rumble in your chest
You are going to tell me
I look into your eyes, they pierce me,
they want me to know
I want to hear anything, anything in your voice
say anything to me in your "i-love-you" voice
Tell me you hate me
Tell me I'm trash
Tell me you love me more now than you ever have
say
anything
Your lips part and sunlight shines on my wet face
Tears leaking, body exhausted
I try to get back to sleep, to hear what you wanted to tell me
But I can't
I'm awake, where sanity reigns supreme
And you're not here
You're never here
But I know where you are
and I know where I can see you again

Random Acts of Poetry: Giving

2011-11-29T17:46:00.000-08:00

I love you
I opened myself to you
and gave you my love
I gave you:
Me
I gave you my smile
Every heart beat that my heart made
I offered up as a gift to you
The song of my soul became yours
I gave you the brown of my eyes:
both the dark brown when I'm angry
and the light brown when the sun kisses them
I gave you the warmth of my skin beneath cold fingers
I gave you hot kisses and smoldering embraces
But that didn't seem to be enough
So I gave you my joy:
I stopped my fingers from writing and I stopped my eyes from reading and I took only joy in giving you my joy
I stopped singing loudly to country music and only opened my mouth to sing your praises
but that didn't seem to be enough
So I gave you my happiness
I stopped spending time in bookstores and libraries and I gave you my time
I stopped seeing my friends and stayed with you
I spent time at home, alone, so that you would know where I was
I gave up my womb to you,
I closed it down because you don't like children
I gave up the laughter of my unborn children for your comfort
but that didn't seem enough
So I gave up my meals
I spent my time hugging my toilet, offering up my insides so that I would look like the women you talk to online when you think I'm not looking
I began to run in circles, running the fat away, running the weight away, so that you can feel my bones when we embrace
You love my bones, you love my fatless frame
But that didn't seem to be enough
So I gave you my sanity
I spend hours upon hours obsessing over who you are talking to
Who are you spending time with
Who is lying beneath you when I am not lying beneath you
Who do you give yourself to
Who are you giving ME to,
because you have me, completely
I no longer have anything, not even myself
I spend my time crying, sobbing, upset, alone,
and lonely
so lonely
so very very lonely
but that doesn't seem to be enough
So I will give you my life.
I sit here with the gun in my mouth.
There is one bullet in the chamber.
I will pull the trigger and give you the only thing I have left.
Maybe my blood, my lifeless form will be enough.
I have nothing left to give.
Why wasn't my love enough?
***What else can you give when you've given your all?***

Might As Well Say It Part 9: The Dire State of Music

2011-11-29T16:18:00.000-08:00

Listening to the radio pisses me off:
You hear the same beats (slight variations) and the same rappers (all 4 of them) and the same singers (all 3 of them) and the same things being repeated over and over again (I have so much money! I buy so many cars/jewelry/houses/hoes! Girls like me! Guys hate me! I hate my boyfriend! I love my life! I smoke weed! I have haters! etc)...
What happened to good music? What happened to hearing a song that moves you? Makes you nod your head or even say: "damn! that motherfucker knows just how I feel!"
What happened to music that makes you want to download it immediately (legally) or run out and **gasp!** BUY THE CD?
The answer is: that music doesn't exist mainstream anymore. Every once in a while, somebody breaks out with something awesome that touches you (think: Lady Antebellum, Melanie Fiona, 1 song off od Beyonce's album), but mostly, you get the same recycled crap over and over again. Yes, the beat is catchy and yes, the singer usually sounds acceptable, but what happened to feeling the MESSAGE, not just the beat?
I'm not putting all musicians and artists in the same bucket, because that would be unfair, but its hard for music lovers like myself to want to support some of these artists who have gone after "marketable" instead of "real".
To get real music, you have to buy a mixtape or go underground and find the artists who have yet to be discovered who are holding true to their art form. When you hear Justin Bieber's youtube videos or Lady Antebellum's early youtube stuff, you close your eyes and enjoy every part of it: voices, music, the raw talent they display. Then you go out and buy an album and you get something different: something commercialized. But if you go back and see some Erykah Badu (who almost never changes) and Meshell Ndegeocello, whose music still moves your heart, stimulates your mind and pulls at your pockets, you have hope.
But underground is where it is now. When you hear Raheem Devaughn's albums, you like him, when you cop his mixtapes, you love him. The same for Wale and Eminem and a host of others who "commercialize" for their labels but express themselves in their mixtapes for their fans.
Then you hear some of the new artists, like Legend and Kool Robb out of DMV and you have hope for the future:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VF4a0bjkUDE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKuIee1S7SA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wmR42BZGDI

It will give my heart (and ears) great joy to hear some GOOD music on the radio...Most of what you hear now (MOST, not ALL) SUCKS.
It had to be said. The truth, the whole and nuttin but...
Stay tuned.

Random Acts of Poetry: The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants

2011-11-18T20:02:00.000-08:00

To stop loving you is like telling my lungs to stop breathing

I can hold my breath for 20 secs

30 secs

60 secs

Or more

But at some point,

My lungs will stop listening to my brain

And do what they were made to do

And inhale and exhale again

I’ve tried

Its not possible

Everytime I pull my mind away from you

It goes right back

I talk to you there

In my mind

We have the most interesting conversations

Your arms hold me tight

And you kiss that spot on my neck that I like so much

And I sigh

And indulge myself in that love

I want to stop loving you

But my heart won't let me

My heart wants what it wants

Too bad it wants what it can't have

Might As Well Say It Part 8: The Idiocy Called Hood Loyalty

2011-11-13T10:20:00.000-08:00

While scrolling through my timeline and on my news feed, I see so many things that irritate me. One thing that tends to spill off of my online life and infiltrates my everyday existence is "hood loyalty". In my workplace, I see and hear so many things that deeply disturb me and tend to make me try to "get to the bottom of it".
Every single day, I see/hear people expressing the belief: "We all we got." "Ima rep my hood to the fullest." and similar stupid phrases that lets everyone else around them know that they believe that their hood is the greatest, strongest, most fearsome place on earth. They also seem to believe that the sun rises and sets on their "hood" and that the people in said "hood" share their same beliefs. Also, they tend to see people that leave the "hood" and do not return as traitors who have committed the unspeakable act of being "fake" or not "real".
Someone out there can explain this craziness to me, I'm sure, but it wouldn't make sense. So here is my public service announcement to all these hood fools:
1. Your hood is about 6-10 blocks of houses, apartments, schools, streets, etc. It is NOT the most important place on earth. It actually makes up so small of an area that it could be eviscerated and no one would notice or care. There is an entire world outside of your hood that continues to move, expand, and progress, even though you choose to stay the same (i.e. stay REAL)
2. Your hood probably consists of a mixture of welfare recipients who live in public housing and old people who bought their homes before it was overrun by fools like you. What this means is that there are a population of indigent people who live in your area and the older, retired people would leave if they had the means to. No one of importance will move to your area because you live there and they don't want the mentality that has poisoned you and your friends to poison their families and children. And because you live there and no people of importance (people with real jobs and money) will move there, your hood will always live in poverty as there are not enough citizens with the means to raise the bar of the neighborhood.
3. Your hood is an area that will always attract unsavory characters because they know that you will welcome them. While it may seem "cool" to brag about how rough your neighborhood is and how "hard" you and your friends "go", when it comes time to raise your children there, they will be subjected to the drug dealers, child molesters and gang bangers that you have welcomed to your area by praising their criminal ways. your children will not be able to walk home by themselves without the risk of abduction, molestation, robbery or violence. Or if they CAN make it home safely, they will see illegal activities on every corner and believe that this behavior is acceptable. Do you want your child to aspire to be a doctor, lawyer, architect or engineer? Or did you want them to aspire to be a babymama or a drug kingpin?
4. Your hood will always be just that: a hood. It will be a rundown area that everyone else avoids like the plague while you call it "home" and think its cute to brag about how unsafe it is. It will never be the community of people that help each other and uplift each other because people like you deem it acceptable to rob, steal, kill and otherwise keep each other downtrodden. People who take pride in their neighborhoods do not refer to them as "hoods" and they keep watch out for each other. They call the police at the first sign of trouble and they take strides to keep their neighborhoods safe. If they see you coming, they shut their gates and interview you to make sure you deserve to live amongst them. This is not profiling, this is keeping their people, their children and the place they choose to live safe.
5. The people in your hood are not loyal to you. They are not even loyal to themselves. They pretend to be "all about their hood" and they say that you are family, but they do not want what's best for you. Think about it: do people that love you encourage you to do bad things? Do they turn a blind eye while you endanger yourself? Do they allow you to make decisions that will ruin your life? Or do they encourage you to do better? to BE better? Every parent will tell you that they want their children to have a better life than what they had. Why wouldn't your hood family want the same for you?
6. You are loyal to a place that is not yours. Chances are, you don't own your house. You don't own any property. More than likely, you live with your parents or a relative that rents their home or gets a voucher from the government for their housing. Which means that this "hood" you are so loyal to belongs to someone else who would not DARE live there. But they WILL take your money and let you kill each other there. And the people who actually OWN their houses HATE the fact that you live there. I'm sure they would exterminate you like roaches if they could. Your mere presence brings down the value of their house and makes the area unsafe for their families. Wouldn't you get rid of something that was hurting your livelihood? your child? your family?
We as a people tend to latch on to what everyone else does and thinks, without taking time to have a mind of our own. We blindly follow whoever talks the loudest, no matter what they say. You hear on the radio that this gangbanging lifestyle is awesome and that hood loyalty trumps all. And you hear this from a rapper who gets paid to tell you these things while they live in their mansions in their gated communities as far from the "hood" as they can get. Matter of fact, they probably call security when they see you coming. They feed you an image and you break your neck to uphold that image. you hurt yourselves, your families and your children to uphold it. I bet you never ask yourself why.
Do better people. If you don't know how, ask somebody who DOESN'T live in those 10 blocks with you.
It had to be said.
The truth, the whole and nuttin but.

Random Acts of Poetry: Not Forgiven

2011-11-12T17:34:00.000-08:00

There is not a day that goes by

That I do not think of the pain

That I cannot see her face

I can’t make it go away

It’s on my mind when I first open my eyes

And it’s there all day long

Just like my favorite song

But the lyrics are all wrong

I try to rewrite them

trying to do anything that will mean that

you did not do

what i know you did

I know I told u I forgive u,

I just can’t seem to forget

even though I tried to move past it

The pain isn’t done with me yet

It follows me

prodding me

constantly with me

not letting me breathe

without blood in my lungs

my heart bleeds

I keep on crying until I think I’ve run out of tears

But I get no relief,

I can’t even sleep

I guess you’re not forgiven

It’s to the point that

I can’t even look at you

cuz when your arms are around me

I smell her perfume

and the kiss that I thought

belonged to only me

has me wondering

if it made her weak

Did her knees shake like mine do

when your lips touched her skin?

I don’t know what I was thinking by allowing you to stay

Cuz if u could do that to me, then there’s nothing to throw away

How can I move on,

when all I can see,

is your hands on her skin?

How can we ever start again?

where could we begin?

with your arms around her?

with your tongue in her mouth?

with your hips between her legs?

How can I erase that image from my memory?

I can’t erase my memories, so ur not forgiven

Random Acts of Poetry: The Darkness

2011-11-06T16:20:00.001-08:00

Into the darkness I go

Sometimes the light is too bright for me

It doesn’t match my demeanor

It doesn’t match what I feel inside

My blood runs black

My heart beats without moving

My eyes cry without tears

I am a never-ending fountain of pain

I retreat to my corner

I pull my knees to my chest

My head on my lap

My arms to encircle me

And I embrace my darkness

The blackness that surrounds me warms me

It comforts me

Let’s me know that it’s ok that I need it

That it’s ok for me to stay a while

I stay still and quiet

I don’t move

I don’t breathe

I don’t think

I just am

Nothing permeates my shell

I am at home in the dark

At some point

The darkness lifts and the sunlight touches my face

And I welcome it

This one was a bad one, and I welcome the light

I get to live here

In the light

For a while

Until I feel the heaviness again

Until I see the shadows creeping at the corner of my eyes

Then back into the darkness I go

Maybe the next time it will take me

And keep me

Random Acts of Poetry: Pretty Please (Don't Make Me Beg)

2011-10-30T18:12:00.000-07:00

You know I'm watching you,

And I know you see me looking

Can't help but notice you

Can’t tear my eyes away

I know you see me looking,

But my eyes aren't on your face

They have travelled to other places

Spaces where my hands tingle to touch

And I know you see me looking

So why are you torturing me?

Why won't you give me what I long for?

Bless me with what I need

You got me stuck in limbo

Tell me what to do,

To get past the formalities, to skip all the small talk

To get right to the meat of it

To get right in the heat of it

Right to the part where you break me off

A little somethin’ somethin’

To keep me satisfied until the next time I can get away

I don't have all day

I know you see me looking

I know you can feel the heat in my eyes

You see I can't uncross my legs

For fear of the dam breaking

And the waterfall that I am holding for you

Will be unleashed down the smoothness of my thighs

You see my foot is twitching

I know

Just like you know

What I came for

So why do we have to play this game?

Don't make me beg you

Pretty please

My pretty tease

Give me kisses till my back arches

Run your fingertips on every inch of my skin

Make my waters fall down my thighs

Make me beg to take you in

Pretty please

My pretty tease

I been waiting far too long

I've been an awful good girl

Naughty as can be

Come bring me your power stroke

It's time to punish me

Don't make me beg you

Pretty please?

My pretty tease?

I’m begging you…

Random Acts of Poetry: Call Me My Name

2011-10-26T16:34:00.000-07:00

This is for all those who have defeated, been defeated, and who have yet to begin the fight. I am in awe of you. This is for you.

My name is not breast cancer

That is not the name my mother chose for me when she laid eyes on me

She smiled at me, and kissed my forehead

And called me precious

And called me beautiful

The words “breast” and “cancer”

Never left her lips

So why is that what they say to me now?

Why do they call me “breast cancer”

Like that is my name

I look in the mirror and I see what cancer has done to me

Where my flowing locks of dark brown hair used to live

Is a barren desert

And round dome, a little lumpy in the back

Brown and sunkissed and oddly beautiful

the golden brown skin of my face is the same

my eyes a little more sunken, but still dark brown

they still lighten when the sun transfers its kiss from my head to my eyes

my lips are still full, still soft to the touch

my neck still strong, but more lines there

more defined lines

and when I look at the place where my breasts used to be

I see the lightening marks where they cut me

To remove the foreigner that was a tumor

To remove the very thing they have bestowed upon me as my name

Breast Cancer

I trace those lines and I feel strong

Stronger than I did months ago

When I clung to my toilet for dear life

As my belly forcefully surrendered everything that lay within me

Where I retched, and retched, until there was blood in the toilet

Mixed with the bile

Until my belly just heaved

Trying to vomit the cancer out with each retch

Trying to offer something else to the toilet, because I had nothing left to give

I feel stronger now, tracing my lines

Than I felt months ago when I watched my hair leave my head

When I was first introduced to this pale round thing

That covered my brain

That was alien, and huge and reminded me constantly of the battle

That was taking place within me

Reminding me that the battle against my breasts

Demanded the death of my hair

Because it could not have me

And tracing the lightening, I feel stronger now

Stronger than I did as I watched the curves I loved so much

Shrink to nothingness

As I watched the mainframe of my body peep through

Ribs that I’d forgotten I’d had peep through under

What was left of my breast

My hip bones screaming and grinding

My toes blue with cold

I couldn’t get warm no matter what I did

And I longed to shut my weakened brown eyes

And surrender to my new name

And now, as I trace my lightening bolts,

I feel stronger

I defeated the foreigners and sent away from my lands

I lost some things along the way

Lost some friends and some family, some hair and some fat

But I survived

I am still here to trace my lines,

To remember the battle

To remember the day I sat in that chair

And the woman in the white coat

Hugged me and gave me a new name

Remission

My name is not breast cancer

My name is Strength

My name is Fight

My name is Awesome

My name is Powerful

I faced Death and told him

NOT YET

My name is NOT breast cancer

No matter how many times you whisper it when I walk into the room

No matter how many papers you write it on

No matter how much you want pin it on me

I am the woman who defeated breast cancer

Now call me my name

Pulled Over

2011-10-24T19:54:00.000-07:00

“What the heck did I do?”

I look left and right for no other reason than to humor myself. It’s 3am and there’s no one else out here but me. Me and the cop with his lights flashing behind me.

I slowly pull over to the side of the road and turn the car off. I look in the rearview mirror and the cop is looking at something on his computer screen.

Well, take your time then, Officer Dipshit, I’ve got all night.

Thud-thud-thud-thud. Thud-thud-thud-thud.

I absentmindedly look around for the source of the thudding and I see my fingers tapping the steering wheel in an irritated manner. With some effort, I am able to stop them, but my foot starts tapping. I am not sure why I am so agitated, but no one likes to get pulled over. No one likes to have a smug cop at your window in the middle of the night asking you “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Because then you have to respond like a kid “Because I was speeding” or “Because I ran the stop sign” and it just irritates you more because your gonna have to pay the ticket or risk showing up in court with him waiting for you with his gotdamn speedometer-devil-doohickey that proves you were going 90 in a 65 zone then you have to pay a BIGGER fine when you know that you weren’t really in that much of a hurry in the first place. But you always know why he pulled you over and you are always irritated at getting caught in the act. Everyone except me.

I blacked out again today and I am not quite sure where I am or what I was doing that caused him to pull me over. I guess I should be grateful, because at least now I can turn around and head home. Do that sign really say Baltimore 20 miles? Wow, I must’ve been driving a long while. Do I know anyone in Baltimore? Who has the kids?

“License and registration, ma’am.”

I jumped visibly and I fumbled with my purse. “I’m sorry officer, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry for that, ma’am. Do you know why I pulled you over?”

The dreaded question. I have no answer.

“No, I’m not sure. I was kind of driving on autopilot for a while, it being so late and all. Was I speeding?”

My hands searching through the wasteland I call my purse for my wallet, so I can find my license. My hands touch a wet spot, and I glide over it, still trying to locate my wallet. I must remember to clean up that lotion later.

“Aha!” I exclaim in triumph when I find the wallet and hand my license over to the officer. He takes a look at it and says “Your license says you’re from South Carolina. You’re a long way from home. Where are you headed?”

“I know. I was making the overnight drive to see my sister in Baltimore. She’s having a baby and I’m going there to help out for the first few days.” Replace that sister for a brother and replace Baltimore with Detroit and replace the baby with a German shepherd and we would be a little bit closer to the truth. But I couldn’t very well tell him I didn’t know where I was nor where I was going, could I? Where the heck was I going?

“Ms. Jordan? I need your registration.”

The sound of his voice breaks my reverie and I jump a little. I’m awfully jumpy tonight. I must’ve had coffee somewhere. Coffee does that to me. I know that I shouldn’t have it after 3pm, but sometimes I can’t help myself. Lattes are my weakness and the barista down at…

“Ms. Jordan? Have you been drinking?”

I jump visibly and let out a yelp. Jumpy. Very.

“I’m sorry, Officer. I guess I’m just tired. It’s been quite a drive. The registration is in my glove compartment. I’ll get it for you.”

I reach over and grab the latch for the glove box and give it a pull. Nothing happens. I tug it a little harder, and still nothing. I look over at the cop to see if he’s watching me and I see him looking back at his car, not paying attention to me at all, probably thinking about how hard it will be to arrest poor drunk me on my way to help my fake sister with her fake baby in a city I’ve never seen, but heard was pretty rough. One of the highest murder rates in the country. I wonder if it’s because of drugs. It probably is because drug addicts are prone to violence…

Stop it! Get the damn registration before you spend a night in jail!

I tug the latch again, hard as I can, and it pops open. A bowie knife falls out, covered in blood, along with something that looks remarkably like a penis. It, too, is covered in blood. If my breath wasn’t caught in my chest, I would’ve screamed, getting myself arrested for sure.

I grab the knife and I notice for the first time that my fingers have blood on them. And there is blood on my passenger seat and on the outside of the glove box, dripping to the floor.

What the heck did I do?!

The world goes black and I see a few images in the darkness. Driving home from work, my yoga class cancelled because the instructor’s mom had a heart attack, making a mental note as I drove to send some flowers to the hospital, turning into the driveway, making a mental note to hire a new gardener because the flowers along the driveway were wilting with neglect, you just can’t find good help these days, walking up the stairs and hearing a strange grunting noise and thinking that Morris must be watching that stupid wrestling show again and walking into the bedroom and watching Morris’ scrawny ass fucking the spine out of some blonde. He hates blonde hair, or so he told me. I remember screaming and hearing “sorry” over and over then the world went black.

“Ms. Jordan? Did you find the registration?”

I look up in enough time to see him begin to stoop and I snatch it up with my clean hand and give it to him through the open window. It was his turn to jump this time, as I guess I must’ve startled him by thrusting my hand out that fast.

“I’m sorry. Here it is.”

“Okay, Ms. Jordan, wait here. I will be right back.”

He walks back to his patrol car, carefully watching the road, for passing traffic I assume, but that’s stupid because it’s pitch dark out here and there’s no one here but us. The headlights would be a pretty good giveaway if someone was coming.

I look back at the passenger seat with the knife and the penis. The penis. Whose penis? Who else’s? If I have his penis, then that must mean I killed him. But how could I kill him with the kids at the house? Where were the kids?

I look into my purse for my cell phone. Maybe if I just look at my recent calls, I can see where I left the kids. I wouldn’t leave them there with their newly-transgendered father, would I?

My hands touch wetness again and I pull my hand back. More blood. Mine runs cold. I feel around the bottom of my purse and I feel something squishy. Wet. Mushy. I’m afraid to find out what it is. What the hell did I do?

I grab it and pull it out and bite my tongue so I don’t scream. I’m holding a scalp in my hand. Wet. Slimy. Bloody. With long, flowing, bloody blonde hair.

My mouth tastes like I’ve taken a bite of the thing in my hand and I swallow hard. My mouth fills with blood again and my tongue feels like it has been ripped. I look in my rearview window and see the cop at his computer. It is then I realize that I have been holding the scalp in the air and I shove it back into my purse. My hands are dark with blood and bits of things that I don’t quite want to know what they are.

What the fuck did I do?!

I close my eyes and try to remember what happened after the screaming blonde and the sorrys but I can’t remember. And I can’t remember where Dory and Seth are. Where did I take the kids? Are they still over the Carmichaels’ house, playing with Blair and Brooklyn? Did anyone get them from school? Or, even worse, are they with their dad? Were they there when I castrated him? The sonofabitch deserved it, but my kids didn’t deserve to see it! They must be so scared or worried. Do they know where I am? How could they when I don’t even know where I am? Are the police looking for me? Will the cop see something about a murder with my name involved when he runs my name through the system? What if I have to go to jail before I can see my babies again? What the fuck is going on?

A car door slamming woke me up and I look up to see the cop coming back to my window, a serious look on his face. My heart is beating fast and hard in my chest. I wonder if I can outrun him. Not is the ratty old station wagon I couldn’t. But I might get a head start if I give him a good slice with the knife. I grab the knife with my right hand and hold it near the gearshift, out of sight.

“Ms. Jordan, here is your license and registration back. I stopped you because your right rear taillight is out, you should get that repaired as soon as possible. I know that you’ve been driving a long way, so I will let you off with a warning. Please be careful and get straight to your sister’s and get those kids into bed. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, Officer.” I let out my breath and let the knife drop from my hand to the floor. When my heart rate slows enough that it isn’t ringing in my ears, I let out a little laugh. My rear taillight? I’ve been nagging Morris for weeks to change it for me, now he won’t be able to, will he?

I take another look at my hands and I try again to remember what I did, but nothing sticks out in my mind.

Get those kids into bed.

I continue to stare at my hands while I turn this phrase over and over in my head until something clicks. Kids. My kids. I turn around and look into the backseat and Dory and Seth are sitting frozen stiff in their seats, not moving, not turning their heads, staring straight ahead, and taking shallow breaths. They are both pale and their eyes are wide and they are shivering almost imperceptibly.

“My babies!” I shout excited, so glad to see them, reaching my hands toward them, wanting to scoop them up and hug them and love them, and Dory lets out a bloodcurdling scream and scrambles as far as possible from me. Seth yells, “No Dory! No Dory! Mommy said don’t make a peep or she would open the glove box. No noise Dory or mommy will give us what Daddy got! Stop Dory!” He’s crying and hysterical and trying to calm his sister down, but she is inconsolable.

I can see the cop running back to the car.

What have I done?

Random Acts of Poetry: The Epitomy Love Story

2011-10-23T18:54:00.000-07:00

There has to be a moment in time

When I can remove your fingerprints from my skin

Where I can tell where you end

And I begin

Where I can take a breath that doesn’t start with

An exhale from your lips

Where my body doesn’t beg for attention

From your fingertips

Where our love doesn’t exist

Isn’t there?

I’ve loved you so long

Everything I knew before I met you was wrong

And you taught me things anew

Now my heart bursts with a song

That you wrote for me

The first time you laid eyes on me

How our eyes met, yours shy

And mine bold

I knew then that I wanted you

And that I would stop at nothing to make you mine

I walked right up to you, my eyes on yours

And boldly touched you where no one had touched you before

Running my hands along your body,

Marking my territory

Because you were mine, you just didn’t know it yet

Some people don't believe in love at first sight

I don't either

but I know that we loved each other before we ever met

And from the moment we met, our souls hugged

And we just couldn’t be without each other

We couldn't figure out how we survived thus far without each other

We couldn't imagine living another moment without each other

It wasn’t long before I love yous were exchanged

You told me you loved music

I told you I dreamt of you before I even knew your name

That the man of my dreams had your face

Our lives could never be the same

Because I could not think of anything if your face was not in my mind

There in my head, watching my thoughts

Making sure that you were there somehow

You couldn’t sleep until you heard my voice

So young but so sure

We knew that living without each other wasn’t an option

It’s not something that we even considered

The soul tie was so strong

I would think of you and you would show up

Saying you needed me

Our minds ran on the same wavelength

It went beyond finishing each other sentences:

Our spirits held conversations without our mouths uttering one word

We epitomize love

We epitomize soul mates

When God made you, he had me on his mind

He knew I would like broad shoulders, so he gave them to you

He knew I can’t stop talking, so he made you an awesome listener

He knew you like ‘em thick, so I carry my thickness well

He made you strong, but he made me resilient

So when life gets hard, I can hold you up

While you hold me down

And when our bodies get too close

They intermingle

And the love we make is so sweet

So intense

That it shocks us each time

You know exactly what I need, every time I need it

I know exactly what you desire

And I fulfill you as you fulfill me

We are the perfect fit

Our hearts have woven together like they were made together

And broken apart at birth

And searched for each other all their lives

Only to find each other

And vow to never separate again

As we grow older, wiser

So does our love

We learn new ways to deepen our bond

To further take our love, to test it, to strengthen it

To grow it

To let it stretch out and engulf us

To let it build up a shield around us

So that nothing can break it, taint it, make it unclean

You complete me because I was born with half a heart

Once I found you, my other half, I became whole

Loving you is a pleasure that I never will give up

You are my heart’s song

I sometimes hug you and I look above my head

Trying to catch our souls dancing up there

So happy to be together, so joyous at the love we’ve found

You are my love song

If there is a place where our love doesn't exist

I will never

Ever

Go there

Random Acts of Poetry: Go Please Stay

2011-10-22T13:22:00.001-07:00

I told myself that the last time

Would be the last time

And now that this last time has repeated itself

This

The last time

I want you to go

Because if you’re gone,

then you can’t hurt me here

Anymore

I see your tears

And I know they are of regret

Regret that you got caught, not because you hurt me

And now that you’ve got to go,

you’ve got so much to say

And so much love to give

Go, please

Now STAY

You got too close to the door

I need you to stay,

and touch me a little more

My skin tried to crawl off my bones

And follow you out the door

My eyes dried shut, they can’t cry anymore

Every part of me is screaming “I don’t want to be alone”

Please stay…

I’m so scared to be alone

I need you to stay

But I want you to go,

so you can’t hurt me anymore

But stay…

cuz at least if you’re hurting me

I can feel something

Cuz if you’re here,

The wall shadows won’t close in

My heart will continue to beat

Because it has to beat to bleed

You are my shock therapy

My heart hurt reminds me that I am alive

The pain reminds me to breathe

I need you.

At least I think I do

The thought of you gone paralyzes me

Yet tantalizes me

Because if you’re gone,

then maybe I can find somebody

That realizes

That I’m so good inside

And will be

Good to me, so good to me

But how can I share with him what belongs to you?

Can I have my heart back please

I see you begging on your knees and I

Have so much sympathy

For you,

you complete me,

so what happens when you leave?

I don’t wanna find out…

I’m pushing you out with both hands

But inviting you back with my tears

I can’t seem to let go of the years that I spent loving you and you hurting me

And then loving you

And then you hurting me

Then me loving you hurting me

I’m used to it, I’ve been thru it and it seems perfectly natural

That I will let you stay to hurt me some more

Maybe the next time I’ll let you go out the door

But for now,

Stay

***when I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired, I will let you go***

Might As Well Say It Part 7: The Buckethead Mentality

2011-10-18T16:03:00.000-07:00

I've noticed something very disturbing amongst young Black women and it's something I call, sarcastically, the "Buckethead Mentality". Young women tend to go through life with a bucket on their heads with eyeholes, allowing them to see very little else besides things that are 5 inches from their faces.
These women are largely socially inept, ignorant, and hopeless; they embrace things that they feel will make them popular amongst other people in their same predicament. Take for example:
Bucket 1 tells Bucket 2 that her child's father (whom she calls her babyfava) has not been to see her son in over a month. Bucket 2 agrees and concurs that her child's father hasn't been to see her child in a long time either. Let me show how the conversation went (based on a real conversation I heard in a Target bathroom):
Bucket 1: Tray ain't been to see Trashae since August! he ain't gave me none of his check eeva (translate: either).
Bucket 2: Fats ain't seen Marquease eeva. He don't even call. Quease be askin bout him and I jus tell em to call his daddy. He won't pick up the phone. he know its Quease callin.
Bucket 1: Tray like that too. He be tellin me to stop callin him when he at his ova babymuva house. I be like Nigga I need diapers and milk for Trashae, u need to gimme some money. He be sayin he broke, but I seen his ova babymuva at the welfare place and his son got on the new foams. that nigga think im stupid. he got money. he got his unemployment yesterday.
Bucket 2: Yup, Fats triflin like that too. Be acting broke when i know he slangin...that nigga got money, always lookin fresh and he ova babymuvas and they kids be fresh too. he jus stingy. good thing my ova babyfava be giving me money or i would always be broke.
Bucket 1: Mike? he still givin you money?
Bucket 2: yeah girl, he take care of Myjay. Be coming ova and playing with her and buying her stuff. he come get her on the weekends sometimes. He a good daddy.
Bucket 1: I need me a good babyfava like that...
(At this point I run out the bathroom because I can't stand to hear anymore shit.) Do I even need to point out the flaws in this conversation? No? Ok, I will anyway:
Both of these women were younger than me. (I'll just say I'm over mid-twenties) and one of them has more than one child by more than one man. Now, I'm not knocking her for that, because sometimes that stuff happens, but it was her description of a "good babyfava" that disturbed me. According to her, a good father for her child was someone who comes over to play with the child and buys the child things. For me, that begs the question of his other requirements. What about being a good influence on the child? What about instructing the child in the way that they should go and be strong for him/her and providing discipline? Also, she talks about how her other child's father doesn't provide monetary support and doesn't visit the child and that makes him "bad". While I agree with her that he is not being a good parent, her description of a good parent is not even close to what it should be. He has other children by other women and he sells drugs. Why would she choose to procreate with him? Yes, accidents happen, but condoms and birth control tend to be very good at thwarting accidents.
While listening to these two women talk (both of whom spoke in loud voices in a public bathroom with no regard to who might be listening) I couldn't help but think of the children. Where were they and what would happen to them under the care of these two women?
So I have decided to compile a list of things that can help the women remove their buckets and be good parents for their children. Here it is:
The Bucket List: (how to remove your buckethead)
1. When choosing a sexual partner, take into accord his number of children and the choice of mothers he has already made. If he has more than 1, then that lets you know:
he's fertile (condoms should be mandatory until you are sure you want a child with him)
he doesn't use protection (which increases the odds that he may have had or has an STD)
2. It's ok to ask your partner to get tested before you copulate with him. If he cares about his health and yours, he won't find this request odd or offensive, he will do it. And he might ask you to do it too.
If his other children's mothers are unemployed, on welfare, young, live in filth, have been to jail or are in jail, ask yourself: do you want to be tangled with these women for the rest of your life? No? Then run away screaming.
3. Watch Baby Boy all the way through. When it ends, watch it again and pay close attention to how miserable the "baby mothers" are and how lazy, trifling and shiftless Jody is. After the second time watching it, watch it again and repeat the mantra: "Jody is a loser, avoid all men like him" Throughout the whole movie. Watch it for a 4th time and the repeat the mantra "I am so much more than a baby mother" (which brings me to point 4)
4. Decide that being a baby mother is not what you want. Don't you want to raise your child with both parents? Don't you want to be something that your child can be proud of? Do you want to raise them in a constant state of drama? Decide that having sex with someone is ok, but making them the father of your child requires a test. Scores beneath 90 are failing and move on to the next one.
5. You can rise above your circumstances. Because you were raised in the "hood" and had to scrape and survive in that environment does not mean that you have to embrace it: you lived in the "hood", that doesn't make you "hood'.
6. Think about your life beyond 2yrs. Having that 'love child' may seem like a romantic idea at the time, but think of the consequences of those actions: where will you and the child's father be 5 yrs from now? if the answer is "not together", wear condoms, get birth control or simply don't have sex with him.
7. Become the woman you WANT to be. If you desire to wear the expensive labels and party all the time, get a degree, start a business, earn your living. Don't have a baby then spend your welfare check on those knockoff Gucci shoes. Earning the nice things that you have will enstill pride in all you do. Mediocrity will not be acceptable anymore. If you want more for yourself, you won't accept less from others.
You can now remove your bucket. Burn it. Don't ever wear it again.
And please ladies, don't get mad at me if you see yourself in this. I speak it because I see it. I grew up in the hood, I had two of my children out of wedlock, I was on welfare for a period of time and I rose above ALL of it. I married my boyfriend and the father of my children (all 3 of em), I earn all the money I have and I work for myself. I came from the hood, but the hood does not, did not and WILL NOT define me.
The truth, the whole and nuttin but.
Stay tuned.

Random Acts of Poetry: For Our Daughters, When the World Tries to Speak Louder Than We Do

2011-10-08T18:51:00.000-07:00

(I feel the need to add a note to this one. I am the mother of a small daughter and I have had a lot of these phrases come from her mouth and it disturbs me that my precious, gorgeous, perfect daughter should be made to feel inadequate by the world. This is for her and every other precious daughter, from every color of the rainbow, to hug them when no one's around and to strengthen them when they feel weak and to yell out loud when the world's voice becomes too insistent. Please share it if you feel it.)

Little girls are like precious flowers blooming

All the while there are dangers looming

Someone’s trying to throw salt in their roots

To cause a wound that no amount of mommy’s kisses can heal

When I was a little girl, I was unaware of the dangers

The strange hands of strangers that always seemed to

Come too close to closed quarters

No matter how close I watch her

I have to let her go away from me

And when I was her age my worries were limited

To how quick I could climb that tree

Or how can I ditch this skirt so my mom won’t see

But my daughter cries out to me “mommy, do u think I’m skinny”

Mommy, I think there’s too much fat on me

Mommy my hair is too nappy,

I think it’s time for a perm”

And I just want her to learn how gorgeous she is

How perfect God made her

That she should embrace herself now, before the world lets her go

There’s so much to know and not enough time to teach it

I wish I could instill confidence if I just speak it

But there are voices that are trying to be louder than mine

So I hold her close and whisper to her

How her beauty is skin deep and deep within her heart

That she is a perfect creation of the one true God

That what others say don’t matter, that she must be good always

And to not put much clout into what those mean girls say

That mommy’s arms will always be a fortress for her

And that power is at hand through prayer

And that I’ll be strong for her even in weak times

That no one can destroy a strong mind

That men may come to weaken her resolve

That you can get rid of a bad man with a swift kick to the balls

That saying no is always better than saying yes

And that life matters more about what’s in your mind than the way you dress

That having a baby before you’re legally old enough to drink is not such a good idea

But that doesn’t mean kill it before it’s all the way here

That my love for her is endless, so that boys love don’t mean shit

And together, no matter the problem, we can take care of it

That crying is sometimes a necessary thing,

But crying alone is never an option as long as I’m breathing

That broken hearts heal, but broken minds don’t

That boys may like you if you open your legs, but they will respect you if you don’t

That sometimes, as women we cry more than we ought to

That we love harder than we think we should

And we don’t laugh hardly enough

And that sometimes the going gets tough

And sometimes the path beneath our feet feels rough

But when we get tired, just lean on the Father

And He will carry you a while

That it takes more muscles to frown than to smile

That there are some things that can be felt, but the words won’t fit

That love is more action than words, and it will fill you with joy if you let it

I’m running along here, but I have so much to say

Because, inevitably, I won’t be around one day

So let me hold you a little longer, before you’re too old to hold

One last thing: God is always in control

I love you, just the way you are

Might As Well Say It Part 6: Facebook Thuggin'

2011-10-04T16:05:00.000-07:00

Reading my news feed, I see a lot of people "blasting" people on their news feeds via status updates and pictures...For some reason, groups of people take time out of their days to attack people online, usually using the most profane language they can think of to demean the other person and calling them names and revealing their personal business to all their fb friends.
Now, while this behavior is wrong for many different reasons, the most appalling part of this is that these people are all adults, usually over 25 yrs of age. And these people are spending hours of their time cussing at people, revealing secrets, calling names and threatening them via fb.
I don't necessarily see what there is to gain by doing this. I guess that maybe your "friends" will see how "hard" you are and how "real" you keep it and give you "props" on fb. But, that begs the question: How important are fb props, anyway?
I mean, do people pay you according to how many "likes" you get on your status? No? Well, maybe you get a raise based on how mean you are to that "skank" that slept with your man? No? Well maybe you just enjoy being an asswipe? yes? That's it?
Maybe some of you "grown" people don't realize that what you put online can be viewed by millions of people. Including your employers and prospective employers. How many jobs can you get by calling someone a "rolling ass ho" or "dirty dick nigga"? None? I didnt think so.
And also, since most of the repeat offenders are adults with small, reading age children, do any of you consider how your children will view you once they read this? Or do you even care? Maybe you figure that your children won't read this, so it doesn't matter, but what about the children of your "victim"?
Why do we as females (and I am saying "females" because we tend to be the offenders) demean ourselves online for the sake of our reputations? I mean, think about it: if you are confronting a woman online and bashing her all over fb because she slept with or is sleeping with your boyfriend, husband, baby father, etc, then have you ever taken the time to consider how stupid you look? I mean, he DID cheat on you and this woman legitimately had sexual access to your "man" and he lied to you and did this behind your back, but the woman is to blame? You defend his actions by saying she didn't mean anything to him but call her the stupid slut.
THIS JUST IN:
You don't mean anything to him either. Or else, he wouldn't have to gone to such great lengths to carry on the affair.
And all the crap you are talking on facebook ultimately does nothing but needlessly harrass the person you are attacking and making yourself look like the biggest moron ever.
It had to be said.
Stop fb thugging and handle your business (whatever that may be) in person, as adults.
And if he cheated on you, please don't waste your energy being mad at the mistress, be mad at him for disrespecting you like that.
The truth, the whole and nuttin but.
Stay Tuned