Monday, December 27, 2010

5 a.m on Saturn

Sunrise, stunned eyes
in the dawn
Its 5 am and Im atop a hill on Saturn drive
Not yet blinded by the sunshine, but peering through the cloaked blinds
Awake from thin lines - alas, reality lies on the other side
Open the door, or be rewarded with a consolation prize
Riddle me this: which door leads to the rest of my life?
Surronded by options but sometimes, I still dont know
Truth is, success and acceptance may actually beget
What I could come to inevitably regret
Question being, should I risk it and go! or retreat, never actually having lept...
I dont know yet
The signs all point to change but thats the part Im anxious to accept.
Opportunity curiously ajar, taunting; truly unopened unless pressed.
Push
Push
Im pushing - it seems heavier than originally guessed.

So Im here, eyes wide open but hiding in my daze
Thin lines making me think past today
How will I acheive what I pray will go my way?
Convince strangers Im all that I say...and more
A student of life and craving to know whats in store.
Teach me please, Im ready to explore
So much to ask, so much to say. I really just need a moment to figure out a way...
Im bored with wishing, dreaming and such
Im ready to rest my hopes, roll up my sleeves and get ready to push
Push
Push for what i want
Im pushing but that may not be enough.
One chance to write my way in...bic in my right hand, ready to pen
Cant change the future without knowing where you've been.
Heres an 'X' to emboss where id like the rest of my life to begin
A new chapter in a book thats yet to be fully written

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Lil Miss Brown Sugar

A curious ascertation, seeding from temptation.

He says 'I bet you taste like godiva and caramel'...

I smile and laugh.

If he only knew my innate cocoa spell

Brown suga babe making your sweet tooth swell

diabetes sweetie,



feigning that your not fiending but you know that thirst all too well.


My mama always called me Lil Miss Brown Suga cuz

I come from the land where the cocoa beans hail

where the rainbow ranges from tan to butter pecan to rich

chocolate mahogany and...

the sun never sets on our melting glow.

You've
seen me, so that much you should know. Ah, but to taste:

Imagine cinnamon and chestnut, add some hazelnut if thats not enough,

to your
morning coffee
when the day starts off rough and surely you can

taste me under your tongue. I can make you come...

hither with a savory sip of my caffeinated skin.

Or maybe youd rather drip your milk right in

to a latte caressed with ice and sweetness in a perfect blend,



melting away and giving sway back to your exhausted lips.


Delish.

Or bite me. Bonbon confection of a bootylicious deity.




Scrumdiddlyumptious like a Wonka fantasy...


the best things in life are free and Im the candy shop - so pour some sugar on me.


Peel back a golden wrapper and be my guest to enter in


a factory full of chocolate delights to fulfill your every whim.


If godiva and caramel is as far as your imagination will propel


Please, let me infuse you with this aphrodisiac bombshell...


La Dolce Vita branded, that should be a tell-tell


If he only knew my innate cocoa spell.







Monday, October 25, 2010

Paradise?

Gates closed, eyes open - hands hidden. Ashen streets are lined with dust and despair, bottles and binkys, hustlers and the new they hustle. A weekend, yet there is no rest for the impoverished. Its life on the grind and they, them, these streets are always grinding. No gracias. Blanketed with a quilt sewn from the last strings of hope, no light can get through, though the people and this place ache for some rebirthing glow. Its been so, so long since any light has graced this place, its hard to imagine it so. But even as an import, I can see hardship cycling before me, even in the daytimes darkness. Barren people, young and old, wrapped in ponchos and weathered zapatos, blowing with the wind in which ever way the tourist flows. Hasting just to catch up to a lifetime of less than or not enough; food, chance, beauty...life can be a living chore, selling chiclets to the naivete boarding the last bus to los estados unidos. No gracias they attempt to politely mumble. while shooing off the young dealers. And while the language is not the same, countless thoughts echo in unison, There goes another one who cant stand to be here. Yes, here, but not 'here'. No gracias. Where babies cling to the backs of mothers, held on for life and limb by nothing more than a cinched blanket, breaking their spirt to cut you a break. Nimble hands crafted what will be inevitably be translated as a simple trinket vaguely obtained while on 'some vacation somewhere' instead of the lively hood and bread and butter it actually represents.
Not 'here' where bargaining is conversing and your nothing more than time wasting time if your hands dont come from hiding, revealing green el presidentes, of course.
No, never 'here', this place they call the 'cove of all saints' where unsaintly things occur and no one can spare bottled-only water to cleanse their hands...unless your willing to pay for it.
This place reeks of a forgotten beauty, shunned after her peak years and left to wrinkle and gray alone and in the dark.
Closing my eyes cant cover my ears and certainly cant bite my tongue - I see too much and am humbled once again from my veins of vanity and californication of reality. To be grateful and blessed; keen on what i have, in this moment and accepting of what may never be mine. Happiness cant be bought or sold on the side of the street - I know this.
As I board this bus to go back to my seemingly greener grass, one last glimpse breaks me. I lean in, heart and soul giving in, handing out a piece of what Ive been given.
Suddenly, unprompted?, I see some light peaking through the seams.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Waited Too Long

After all this time, all our time leaves me seething
Your fumbling drunken thumbs texting
No courtship or lingering love beaming
No sunsets, intimacy or fireworks seeing
You see
Just my body; no soul, all that's withstanding.
Regretting this and ever other time feigning understanding
Whatever the fuck that means...instead we settle on pretending
Hot sex, littered with regrets and showers of self-loathing
Physically attempting to rewind a stubborn clock
stuck on our pastimes 'great' thing
A clock pacing between the beginning and never quite reaching the realistic ending
A clock never quite waking me up to what you are as a lackluster and inconsiderate being
Taking my lust for that 'us' and turning it into a resentful memory
Wishing I never opened my heart to a man so neglecting
When i was your girlfriend I bet you never imagined me leaving...
I'm glad we were there but let it rest in the grave its mummifying
Forget my smiles, forget my name
Forget me if you cant remember me
C in my entirety, not a sexual prowess or whatever your fantasies conjour me being
Love me for my brain and my heart, my body, soul; and
mind; dont stiffle it. I'd rather suffocate, but in the meantime...
Let me be if you cant come at me complete.
Im looking for someone to love Christine
I told you before...
Im never settling.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Column: A Cyber Savvy Singles Do[n't] Guide to Online Dating: Part 1

In my on-going quest for the right 'he' to occupy my right now , I have ventured into the world of online dating. Like real dating , one needs to have confidence, open-mindedness and traditionally a bit of a flirt game. Typically my pick-up line goes something like "Hi, my name is Christine, and I just randomly came across your page. You seem really interesting and I would like to learn more about you...". Yes, I have a pick-up line. Its not sexy, not overly flirtatious but it has an air of intrigue and spontaneity, like 'you seem so great I simply had to write you', while still mellow and not too anxious. And above all, its genuine...I find people through a search engine so saying I 'randomly came across your page' is pretty damn accurate. Yes, you can read into all of that from a 2-line byline... But moving past those revelations, I usually go on to cite and highlight what we may have in common from their description of themselves and end with inviting them to read about me. In my virtual travels of what equates a tipsy free-fall singles bar on any night of the week, I have come across the most bizarre, forward and out of control introductory messages never to be uttered aloud, yet somehow end up in my inbox. After the initial shock and sometimes, blushes, I end up doing one of two things: hitting delete, or hitting delete and then block (the latter, of course, depends on the afore mentioned blushing factor). Here's how to not end up in your computer love's out bin.
DO: Start with your name
I cant tell you how many times I have read an entire online propagandist auto-bio, read the trite message and left my computer like, 'what was his name?'. This especially sucks if I read or find something about the person that I like and really do want to start a conversation - I'm held back by a speed bump of not even knowing how to address you. Think of your message as an actual in-person introduction...give me details and fundamentals.
DO: Mention or address something you two may have in common
As my own profile states, flattering me and yourself with 'were both hot' sentiments will get you no where and I might even toss in an eye-roll just to set the mood. Something genuine is appreciated, like you have similar interests in music, movies or travel. People who are truly looking for 'someone' want to know off the bat how much effort they may have to put into this 'relationship' or if serendipity has brought you to each others attention.
DONT: Make a profile that lacks substance, information and insight into your life
Im not suggesting you write your memoir, but too often people create online profiles that dont have any information at all. The standard site questions, such as age, gender, and location do not count toward your profile details. Keep in mind that this is the only way people will get to know about you until further contact. And if you are the pursuer, then you want a bio that sells all your qualities, not stumbles on your faults and negativities. Be honest, maybe even witty and interesting. Remember you want them to like you not loathe they ever came onto your profile.
DO: Approach a potential dating situation as if you were actually in person
Though online dating is a great venue for the overly shy and reserved, it is also a prime opportunity for the perverse and explicit. You wouldn't approach someone and remark, "Cant wait to meet up and kiss those lips..." would you? So
dont do it here. Find the balance between flirty and respectful - be intriguing, alluring, yet leave your reader curious to find out more about you. And just like you would in person, be aware of personal space. DON'T inundate someone's inbox. One message is enough before you start IMing them, poking their profile or even searching out their name on other social networks. It's weird, it's uninvited and I can almost guarantee a "hell no" is your future. State your case, let your interest be known, and leave the cheesy douche bag lines and awkward behavior for the actual bar, where the alcohol content can drown out your lameness.
DO: Publish a realistic and accurate picture of yourself now...
and not who you were 5 years ago, or who you want to be in 10 years. A full face and body picture is always preferred. '
Nuf said.
DONT: Be personally offended or hurt by someone's digital denial
Yes, they may be cute and their profile reads that you two have so many things in common that you've lost track AND they too have a cat named
Mandu, but sometimes, they just arent that into you. They dont feel the same vibe your putting out over the web, their schedule isnt open to meeting right now or they simple arent interested - dont let that discourage you from continuing to date online and in person. And though they are rejecting your interest, they arent rejecting you per se...remember they dont really even know you. Ironic since if they got to know you the sparks may fly, but be that as it may, in actual life and behind a key board sometimes people just arent feeling each other and thats totally ok. Rejection is apart of the dating game - Acceptance is the goal so keep looking!
DO: Treat the first meeting as just that...a first meeting
In the online dating world, the substantial difference between actual dating and digital dating is, of course, the lack of physical contact. Whereas in a bar or club you can feel the chemistry sizzle (or fizzle) you cant online. So if and when you meet a perspective date, the first time around should be like an in-person introduction. Maybe even a repeat of a few things you two discussed in your emails and mid-day
IM's to reiterate the connection that you think is there or to see if is was a just a match.com mirage. Either way, pick a place central to both of you; good lighting and an agreeable atmosphere (as far as music, clubs, lounges or dinner) and come simply ready to mingle, talk and maybe finally that special someone.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Portifino Train of Thought

I want to be the dream I see everyone else living
but Im too scared to get in it
Too afraid of a raid on my emotions limits
too afraid of rejection and its ugly hindrance
on my soul
too blind by a future with uninhibited ambitions
I cant control
Yes, Im self aware and though it isnt a bad beginning
it may be the beginning to a never ending self inflicted gimick
'Whats behind door #1?' - I dont know so I dont want to enter it
Im laughing at me and everyone else is so sure of my possibilities?
But they just dont get it
How can I delve into a sea of unsure realities?
'Live your dream' but whos to catch me if I dont land on my feet?
'Life's a bitch' in the same breath they speak - shit...your tellin me! Preach!
Of uncertain concerns and meandering earns - of a place and a space where no one tells me where to turn
How am I to know? There are so many roads to paradise, supposedly, but which way did you go
How did you make your happiness and what made you stop on this road
Trust, I see you
You take life by the wheel and with or without gas your goin all around the world
To places and faces and unfamiliar spaces where people dont know your name and could care less about you fame, supposedly, but to you its all the same
Your cool with this game
Life
And your winning in this level
Here
And your living it to the fullest
Now
My friend- I'd say your living the dream.
But right now...Im just trying to get in it...
Im on a portifino train and next stop is tomorrow
I'll see if I like it when I get there - who knows
I suppose I can keep going until I ride my way through to the otherside
where rainbows glow and my dreams vs realities collide
where happiness is what I make it not just what it seems
where I really am what everyone makes me out to be
C to the utmost and nothing less than supreme
These are just some thoughts I conceive
Wanderlust yearning from my core being
...I should probably stop pretending
Hazed vision of a future stop I think Im seeing
Could it be...maybe...
Always wanderlust yearning from my core being
I want to be the dream I see everyone living
Really, though, I should stop pretending.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

And God Created Woman

On the 6th day
He thought he was through
Created the light sun stars and the heavens too
Created the earth and the sea's, creatures to live and breath
All the in between that crawl walk and flew
And on the 6th day He Created you
In his image he bore you, you grew
Called you Man and told all living things to honor you
He saw you roam- a king with a crown yet lone to carry his soul through
And God created woman in a slumber he succumbed you to.

From the bones that protect your heart, he knew
this is your equal,  your other half to pledge your love unto
From the breath you drew, he knew
she would help you breathe life and happiness into all that you do
From the skin your in, he knew
She would shield you from the cold and comfort you too
And God created woman.

From perfection into motion 
With life nestled in her burrows and embrace within her grasp
She is the end and He is her all, at last
Apples and sin; through Eden thick and forbidden whims
They were always made to reign...over land, life and love
And that love they both devised intensified
through timeless ages and boundless divides
Until there was you and I, here and now, side by side
Thank God He created woman.



Sunday, August 8, 2010

Column: Why the American Mindset of Design should make room for Asian Innovation

Classic American design is often proudly unmistakable; though cleverly composed and sometimes, reminiscent. We have collected, revolutionized, and surely Americanized worldly ideas and stamped them with our ingenuity and innovative seal of approval. Though we don't always get it right we strive for the best in everything from automobiles to architecture. Our usual M.O to design: big, bigger and biggest.
Escalades, mansions, 50" LCD televisions...even your venti morning coffee - all enormously huge and quintessentially American. Excess. Its a cultural thing, not only limited to design, but ever so encompassing of our ideology and sense of self; it speaks to our inherent mindset that happiness can and is measured...literally. So it's natural to think that, during a recession and a theme of less is more and 'cutting back' echoed internationally, that this blueprint to success would, well, perhaps not be so successful. Insert Asian innovation.
Whether it be from Japan, China or anything in between, Asian engineering and imagination of designs endless possibilities and overlooked abilities have naturally flourished in times such as these. Their ideas are conceived outside the box and instead of vying only for substantial, they instead aim sustainable as well, and more so it seems, size. In a polar culture and point of view from our own, Asian ideology often, if not always, veers for small, rather than seismic. To fit within conformity while still out thinking it. To make space and structure where others would swear there is none.
Modern times have rendered this highly necessary: China, for example, is the worlds most populated county with a million people and then some. The daily realization for a need for space has afforded the Chinese to not only recreate a modern and highly effective new China, but to branch out and reach others....all the way to the West in countless cases. While cities like Los Angeles struggles with daunting traffic and time-wrenching freeways, China has come to the aid of their people, in cities where the traffic of a half-a-million drivers can surely seem paralysing. Introducing the 3D Fast Bus, from the Chinese Shenzhen Hashi Future Parking Company. It has all the components of a triumphant invention suited for the masses, equipped to be effective and slated for a nod to an ingenious imagination. Perhaps its only qualm may lie, not with the bus itself, but with drivers unsuited to glide along with a high-speed Disneyland-esque tram above them. And really, bad drivers seem to be an issue none of us have yet to solve.
If driving seems like too much of a hassle, paddle over to Japan, where anyone can live the high life under a modest roof. With less and less space available for living, Japanese architects have come to commercialize the concept of ultra small homes, or entire homes equivalent to a 2 bed apartment or smaller. Though off the cuff, this seems unbearable, and certainly anything but luxurious, these undersized abodes encompass glamour, functionality and most importantly, living ability. Yasuhiro Yamashita, a lead architect from Tokyo, is among the many who make these houses, homes...while subsequently reimagining the status quo of design, and all the while creating art of minuscule, yet unimaginable proportions.
Perhaps we could take a subtle cue...I mean, were all in a recession, right?

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Column: Ring My Bell - The Scientific Synopsis of the Real World Phenomenon knows as the Booty Call

I ran across an article today, during my hourly news updates at work, which caught me by surprise and titillated my interest. And memory. An article that I can proudly say was on a reputable news site, msnbc.com, but that could have easily been posted on theonion.com as a faux find or even mixed in with tmz's sultry nonsense. Yet, it is based on actual scientific research, from experts in the subject: college students, who else?! The nature vs. nurture ideas about the infamous 'booty call' were up for debate at the University of West Florida, in which psychologist Peter Jonason (clever name in such a study) led a team in researching the late-night invites. Were they strictly sexual in nature, or was there some sort of intimacy inherently involved? And where on the spectrum of human relationships do booty calls lie, with monogamy at one end absolute sexual prowling on the other. I would agree with most of the initial findings of this less-than-diligent online surveys of merely 289 relationship-pendulum students: requests are made by calling or text, it is a convenient hybrid of long-term and one-night stand relationships yet is purely on the side seeking sexual pleasure. As well, it is brief, to the point and steers away from lingering emotion. Sounds about right - but any Hollywood movie could have told you that. In fact, Netflix Booty Call and report back your findings asap. And in particular, one wouldn't need to limit their consulting to college students: booty calls and random acts of sexual satisfaction maintain a scared place within most sexually active people, either currently or from their past. Take a moment and recall Psychology 101: Freud details the animalistic tendencies innate to human existence and relationships. However, I would be interested to know, instead, how the nature of booty calls has changed over time; hopefully evolving, but nonetheless steadfast in getting the craving quenched. Have men and women grown seedier and more desperate? Or have we past a long ago era where men would at least pretend to get to know you, out of respect and decency, before the forthcoming wham-bam? I would venture to say that the only thing that surprised me about the supposed research into this complex, yet sex-savvy field, would be it's position in relation to the other extremes: monogamy and one-night stands. According to Jonason, while all aspects incorporate sex, one-night stands typically have the least amount of sex acts as opposed to booty calls - the idea being that booty calls have consistency and trial-&-error on their side, much like a relationship. On the other hand, one-night stands tend to be more emotional; holding hands, kissing and cuddling, probably because the expectation of impending intimacy allows for a heightened acceptance of outward affection. Lets face it - your only going to be together for a few hours anyway, so the speed of getting to know each other and feeling comfortable makes sense. Then again, repeatedly seeing someone for the utmost of intimate acts, sex, should always abide by that same logic, right? Perhaps, but in reality and science, the fact is that what breaks up most consensual booty calls is the expectation for more; more emotion, time, and heart. In the meantime and between time, before tonight's possible tripe onto the nearest bed, couch or kitchen floor, scientists have decided to invest more "longitudinal work" for the horizontal mambo, and I personally, couldn't be more thrilled with the idea. The only question remains: do they need any extra research done?

Stuck on Solo

So many months and some change, here I remain stuck on solo. Not always alone though, it sometimes feels that way. I must say I've been in neutral gear for some time, not rushing mines just avoiding grime, thinking through my boxed wine, it was just time for me to unwind. Reassess myself and my love life's grind... into the ground. I look around and all I see is..me. Hustle, hustle, rarely pause to breath, let alone allow another emotion to tie down my ease. Doing me in all facades and degrees, albeit soulfully fulfilling, my left hand still lingers free and I think I may finally want someone whos willing... to hold it. With his hands join my future and help me mold it. Be my everything when nothing is enough. Never coddling me too much - see, he knows I like it rough. Console my soul with his relentless heart- he is and always will be a great man, with me right by his side as his number 1 fan. Believe in me when Im my biggest hater -push me toward 'greatness' and I'll escort you to 'greater'.  Collect my tears when the grind is too much, dust off my shoulders, tell me to fuck the small stuff and all the while hold my heart in his cuff. He is solely meant for me and no one else; Lord knows I've never been one to share. Still, he cares like I care. Giving of himself when there is little left to spare; he is epic and boundless in all that he desires and as exhausting as this may be when I need anything, he is my supplier. Kisses and hugs, embraces and love...Im waiting for him with my breath held, bottled up. He is sure to leave me breathless. He who is him is unknown at this minute, but being stuck on solo, perhaps I should make room in my present for him it it.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Column: Another Dream Deferred...& A Mili-an Just like It

A 10-month marriage has come to an end with the somewhat predicted demise between 32-year old mega-producer/singer/song writer The Dream (a.k.a Terius Nash) and singer/actress Christina Milian.
Famous for her younger days as a Disney star and her pop career dippin it low from a.m to p.m, Christina and The Dream, Mr. Yeah if you will, met and quickly fell in 'love', eloping in Las Vegas on September 4th 2009. The two were already expecting their 1st child by then. Shocker. In Violet, who is almost 6 months old and is beautiful "with a definite personality" according to Dream; though she is the 1st for Christina, it is The Dreams 4th child. Yes, 4th - hes has 3 little-dreams from his previous marriage with R&B crooner Nivea (from Dont Mess With My Man fame).
While Im not surprised, I am a tad disheartened by the breakup. Whenever discussing her future with Dream, Christina frequently gushed of their loving life and her role in music and as Mrs. Nash: "I enjoy being happy every day, and hopefully yoItalicu can hear my happiness in my music. Life is beautiful". Yet here they are separating, apparently since late 2009, even though it wasn't disclosed to the public then to protect their impending daugther (who was born in Feb 2010). Hmmm.
I suppose the signs toward Dooms-ville were all too obvious; frequent trips away, rare coupled sightings, groupies all around ATL. It is all too apparent from a very recent interview The Dream gave to Essence, in which his caviler attitude toward Christina (still his 'wife' as of this interviews date) and his young newborn resonate the polar opposite of the man we swoon to onstage. One would think a supposed veteran father of 3 children would be quite 'the dream' partner to raise a child with, however, it looks like Christina may have simply been dreaming. When asked about his involvement with his new daugther, Mr. Nash bluntly responded,
I don't [get involved] because my "helping out" turns into expectations. I'll get Violet on a late night maybe one or two times, but after that, no. If Christina's tired, call the nanny, call Violet's granny. We got people.

What? You have people? So, I can only assume Dream assumes that because he is an active musician that excludes him from being an active father? He should probably expect to be sterile after a comment like that. The interview proceeds with questions regarding the then-alleged rumors surrounding he and wife Christina with reports they were (gasp) separating:

Whoever thought that blogs would dictate our conversations, [the writers] must be in their bedroom saying "Look what I can do." It's actually sad to have to entertain it. The rumors are not true and it really boils my blood. Christina and I are cool. People keep asking, "Why haven't we seen you guys out together?" I'm working, that's why you haven't seen us. She's at work too in Los Angeles. The women in the pictures are actually legitimate friends of mine. The photo with me in the car with another woman, she's a good friend who's at my house all the time. It's sad, because [the blogs] have humiliated her. She feels bad, I feel bad and you don't know what that [judgement] does to that person. Who takes responsibility for that? I understand freedom of speech but if I made my living spreading rumors about people, my family wouldnt claim me.

Ok so, let me make sure I have this straight: just 2 weeks ago, you and Christina were cool, yet there are pictures of you and your assistant hamming it up in the Caribbean, doin who-knows-what while the cameras flash to capture the infidelious event.Coincidental timing? Nah. Spiteful. Yep. Typical cheater? Yep. Ah, what a nightmare.
I have to ask though, depite how balse he seems about the situation and his public statement of his marriage simply being "unsuccessful", has it occured to Dream that maybe, just maybe, if he didnt flaunt around with other women he might be a successful somewhere other than the music charts? Somewhere like with his family; wife, kids...the whole deal. Talking about family not claiming you! And you lie! Ugh.

In the meantime, we all know how the story goes: she may or may not leave him, he most certainly will sleep his way past her, theres an innocent child he can now add to his payroll rooster to support, another ex-wife to maintain and another statistic to add, multiply and divide by.

When will people learn...

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Column: Lions & Tigers & Big Checks, oh my!

You may not remember what you did last month, last week, or even yesterday.I'm the same way so it’s understandable. But I think its safe to say most of us can selectively remember this past November of 2009: Thanksgiving, Black Friday, the stock markets slight optimistic recovery and, oh yeah, Tiger Woods epic infidelity buffet sprawled out before our eyes. While it was an familiar sight to see, a celebrity marriage dissolving over a matter of days, it was also unbearably salacious and better than any penned reality garbage. Here's a man, a Nike, Gatorade, Tag Huger, Schick man, at yet anther fantastic pinnacle in his career, seemingly unstoppable as the best and dearest golf player ever to grace the game. He's on Wheaties, he's given speeches encouraging the youth and due to his amazing skills and inherent diversity, subsequently changed the color and face of golf forever. There will never be another Tiger Woods. Still his greatness has yet to keep him from being an average typical cheater. Or has it? Admittedly, most don't cheat with upwards of 17 partners during the course of a 5-year marriage. That's impressive Tiger. And most don't diversify their conquests like Tiger; waitress, porn star, overseas and domestically here at home. Though most do get caught (yep, that includes you Mr.Woods), most do not face the consequences and financial heist like Tiger Woods. In 2010, cheating like Tiger will cost you around $100 million and monthly child support in the tens of thousands.
Though the two had a prenup, which destined Ellen Nordegren to at least $20 million if they remain married for a decade, news of the golf greats adultery prompted a slight renegotiation to the initial contract. Still, nothing in the new prenup settles her with an amount like the one she will now be receiving. While it is in exchange for her undying silence on the marriage and his cheating, truly, it is so obvious Tiger is the one getting screwed by his own selfishness. And his wallet will be taking the brunt of the pain.
It's no coincidence that Tiger Woods has quite possibly discovered some the most expensive mistresses ever. Even Heidi Fleiss would be amazed at the tab 17 separate yet countless transgressions can rack up. But like the #1 champion he is, Tiger managed one of the most expensive divorce settlement. Ever. Yes, he's up their with Michael Jordans $157M.
Yet I think, beyond the money and the affairs, is the out come for their two children. When there is a cheater in any relationship (especially one involving children) you cant help but question: While they were away cheating, what did they miss here at home? Maybe a recital, or a science fair display. Maybe a day at the beach, or dinner at home. Maybe even some tears that needed wiping. Who knows? Certainly they don't; its hard to think of the ones you love when your doing things that would break their heart. And for his indiscretions, he will have still less time with his young 1-and-3 year old children: Ellen will have complete custody, with Tiger inserting some input. While I don't blame this custody aspect on Ellen (he did cheat with 17 women for goodness sake) it does sadden me that she had to even do this at all. Kids who need and want their father can't be around him because he is incapable right now of making selfless decisions, in particular, involving his family. In particular, not hurting them or their trust anymore.
Who's to say what Ellen, or any other mistreated, beguiled and heartbroken woman should receive monetarily. For pain and suffering.For embarrassment and exposure. For lost trust and wasted time. With the adultery rate the way it is, it seems a lot of people should be receiving $20M payouts for failed relationships. Yet in reality that doesn't happen. And in reality cheaters still cheat, leaving spouses without their other half. And children are left with monthly paychecks, yet no papa. And in reality, not even $20M can fill that emotional bankruptcy.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Ah, A Great Pretender

Few people know, but I'm all too aware. So few know, but your secret wont be spared. Little do they know what we all had to live out; Ah, your a great pretender. A cowardly white-lie inventor, changing lives in your weak surrender to the greener grass and forbidden Apples, though you just cant take the blame so you hinder. Blending seamlessly, I'll confess; all the while spreading embers you transgress through lies, deceit and selfish obsesses. Ah, the regrets...but no one knew.
You seemed so...fresh and new. Full of virtues to wholesome to be untrue; family devoted, motive cleverly unbeholden, though lost in a supposed future never meant for you. Silly fool, don't you know your a pretender? A grown diminutive charlatan cloaked like a poor mans emperor with your 'New' clothes; yet everyone knows you cant teach an old dog new tricks. Continue to think you have fooled the masses - the man in the mirror is only fooling you.
Perk up, you are a great pretender, right? So little does anyone know who you really are. I must say, you look so normal but alas your so sub-par...A parental of three never hands-on, always afar, and you shudder to think your mini-me's want nothing to do with you? Cry me a river and drown in it too. Ah, great pretender I see right through you. Your naked without your lies and all anyone can do is pity you. The shell of a being you have become, your even less than a man you were bore from; its so late in this game you may never measure up.
Great pretender, I call your bluff. Your orphaned heart and rogue ways - you've won and finally gotten your way. Solo you are in a city so cold - a metro mecca with out a soul who really knows. But your a great pretender, right? Right. Now pretend your really not alone.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Column: The Lesbian Effect

Yo, Drizzy sayin' get her Imma get her
I get the kind of money that make a broke bitch bitter

Gon' ahead and deep-throat.
4-chick Foursomes,
Skin colors mocha.
Sally and Sonia put the pussies on my Totem.
Pole.

Cause I'm bout go have a ménage
With this lady and some freaks at the bar
who like fuckin' with a star…
If you fuckin' with me
Really fuckin' with me
Let her put her hands in your pants
Be my little freak

Excuse me little mama
But you could say I'm on duty
I'm lookin' for a cutie
A real big o' ghetto booty
I really like your kitty kat
And if you let me touch her
I know you're not a bluffer
I'll take you to go see Usher

Make a straight girl out of lezzie…
and this bitch I brought with me she be baggin bitches for me
I got a girl named Kima
and Kima like Christina
baby three dont make a crowd it make a sex scene meaner
I just wanna get between her
turn it over scream her
than its one, two, Im through, see ya

3 is the new 2
Baby, bring about your girlfriend when you come through?
A whole lot of freaky little things we gonna do
If that's your fantasy
Then girl im feeling you


If Pink is the new black, then gay is the new straight. Well, lezzie chic at least, and I don’t mean your bi-curious kiss after a kegger during your senior year of undergrad. Sex sells, and in both underground and mainstream music, the fascination with and sexual conquests of female-on-female possibilities has found a highly profitable male niche in a most un-female friendly genre: hip hop. While its true, hip hop circumvents the blase norm and instead delves into the more glamorous, rough, or intoxicated aspects of life, as of late it has taken an increasingly feminine twist, and caught onto a wave of trendy sexual orientation seeping into conventional pop culture. We shall call it, the Lesbian Effect. It has made its way into movies, magazines, award shows, sitcoms, and yes, now music. With the steady flow of introductions of aspiring female rappers; Diamond, Hedonis Da Amazon, Nola Darling and Tiye Phoenix ( to name a few), the game has formally welcomed outspoken lesbian Nicki Minaj to lead the forefront of a ‘Black Barbie’ revolution. And why not? Nicki is exactly what any mass producing hip hop generator would want: she’s unpredictable, confident, sassy, quick witted and sexually appealing to both men and women. Ok, probably mostly men. Unlike her contemporaries, relaying solely on their actual talent, Nicki and her team of Young Money are quick to point our her bark and her bite for both sides of the fence: “I'm lookin' for a cutie, A real big o' ghetto booty…And if you let me touch her I'll take you to go see Usher”. Her lyrics, whether self-professed or cleverly doctored, hint toward her sexuality yet never cross actually confirming it. Is she gay, bisexual, or simply smart for having us talk about it? Only she knows, yet her persona and appeal was created to dramatize a male-centered imagination come-to-life: a bodacious pit bull in a mini-skirt who spits game as well as a guy. But is into girls. Or maybe both? Listening to her lyrics I'm pressed to wonder, are these her own desires or those of a misogynistic society dictating her increasingly sexualized aura to obtain success? Nicki Minaj – 'Minaj' being a reference to “eating” females a la menage a trios – isnt the first or the last female to use her mystic femme fetal to get what they want. And she in particular isn't the source for this sudden Lesbian Effect. Furthermore, her being gay or not really isn't anyone business in the first place. Perhaps, the actual issue lies in the fact that yet again we have stooped creatively – are we actually to the point of commercializing homosexuality to sell rap albums? Its looking that way. We as a hyper sexualized culture have taken something inherently feminine, lesbianism, and turned it out; it has now become a venue for male conquest and profit based on the backbone of female sexuality. Realistically speaking, a large aspect of hip hop and its assumed lifestyle lies in the wealth and abundance of its females. Women are required to look, act and appeal to an ideal – to an ideology. And this appeal extends past the superficial to ones own sexuality. The Lesbian Effect trickling into hip hop, and oozing throughout pop cultural in general, has taken aspects of the increasing female sexual liberation stemming from the 60's and somewhat morphed it into a rather sense of exploitation. Being a lesbian is nothing, seemingly unless it involes a man in some sort; “I got a girl named Kima/ and Kima like Christina/ baby three dont make a crowd/it makes a sex scene meaner”. Or if a man cane profit from it; “My girl's got a girlfriend/ I just found out/but its alright/as long as I can be with her too”. Rarely, I would simplify to say, is the act and preference of being a lesbian solely a female occupation when glorified in today's society. Nicki and her male counterparts are embracing the idea of selling just another fantasy, and we are all to willing to buy it and play along. Hip hop music, it unfortunetly seems, is simply the latest pawn to the oldest game in the book.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Column: AZ, did you forget where you come from?

Nearly two months ago, on April 23 2010, a controversial and relatively redundant idea was re-introduced to Arizonians and the American people alike. While it is formally titled the Support Our Law Enforcement and Safe Neighborhoods Act of Arizona, opponents have dubbed it the Anti- Immigration Act. And though its origin is rooted in such laws as the Federal Patriot Act (instilled post-9/11) and 2004's Arizona Proposition, the latter of which was vetoed under former Democratic Secretary of State Janet Napolitano, the Act has become the staunchest anti-illegal immigration attempt thus far. To reiterate some of the vital details of this Act, it is imposed upon illegal immigrants in the state of Arizona, in which law enforcement agencies are given legal authority to question a persons citizenship, or lack thereof. Questions and concerns over a persons legality are only to be asked if an officer or such enforcement has "probable cause" to pull over, detain or otherwise hinder any person for any reason. Ambiguity, as one can see, is already an obvious problem. A saving grace: one is supposedly "presumed to not be an alien" if he or she has some sort of governmental or tribal identification card. Moreover, someone found of being an illegal immigrant, or 'alien' in AZ terminology, is charged with a misdemeanor crime accompanied by increasing fees, discretionary jail time and general hassle and molestation, possibly culminating in total deportation.
My initial reaction when hearing and learning of this law was mixed feelings - undecided about how I wanted to approach the obvious and ignorant discrimination, racial profiling and bigotry subliminally in between the legal jargon listed in this Act.
I am an American. Born and raised in this great U.S of A and as far back as I can remember, teachers would always refer to America as the "Great Melting Pot". Both literally and figuratively, we are a nation built on the dreams and backs of countless immigrants ho have pledged their life, and sometimes several generations of lives, to the betterment of this country. We are all, native or not, born from a once upon a time heritage of un-American Americans. While the reasons for their arrival vary from foreign need or want, greed or necessity, or even political wars and genocide, people from countries and crevices around the world have washed onto our shores. Ready, willing and hopeful to capitalise on their golden ticket to opportunity. Already these supposed foreigners are sounding pretty 'American' to me; capitalism, opportunity and cashing in on a combination of both are US trademarks. Our forefathers, though Caucasian and 'English', were immigrants. And good 'ole Chris Columbus audaciously 'discovered' this vast land as, yep, an immigrant. Yet this has rarely been a problem. Like most American ideals and principals, immigrants have served a 'purpose'; whether it be labor for the fields or for the mines, immigrants have built, drilled, mined, picked, toiled, plowed, harvested, bore, invested and yet rarely reaped the fruits of the American Dream they have come to collectively create. Still, they come, and for what? Our principals and fundamentals; those vital phrases placed in feather-penned writing that states "all men are created equal...with certain unalienable Rights...[such as] Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness". Dare I ask, when will these "self-evident" truths start to hold up? Especially for the underdog-types of people they were written for.
Modern times have found immigrants under persecution from every angle; they are often oppressed in their homelands, for whatever reason (war, famine, political corruption, you name it) only to escape to a land that has morphed from a home of the free to a land of bullying. The immigrant has become the school yard wimp, and fellow Americans, we are quickly becoming an ugly bully. We re-create (or rename, depending on how you look at it) a Federal law that is already in full effect (thanks terrorists and your nifty little WMD's), only to further pester an already burdened people, illegal aliens. The name tag alone, aliens, is inherently segregated from the masses in every way,shape, and form. Or is it? We all started as such - learn you history, kids.
Now, don't misinterpret my intentions or my understanding of some of this Acts intentions and allegations, and other Acts and Laws like it. Yes, we have an enormous drug problem that has ironically grown since we Regan-ized it and pledged an unrelenting war against its survival. Safe to say were losing. Yes, most of our imported drugs have come from countries like Mexico, Central and South America.This is American damn it, we want our drugs in bulk and for cheap. Yes, these drugs have caused crimes beyond containment in such a way that its severity is devastating. Yes, we have a growing deficit that can partially be blamed on an out of control immigration flow and emigration trickle. Yes, our jobs, health care, and in part, economy have all taken jabs from countess persons falling in love with our purple mountains of majesty and our even better quality of living. We claim to leave No Child Left Behind, we DARE you to just say no, and whats more, we offer education and opportunity as far as your eyes can see. Of course people are flocking by the thousands to cozy under our American quilt, and since 1776 we have steadily been inviting them. Ms. Liberty holds a light guiding lost souls to our shore and we live with the whispered premise that if you work hard, you too can have this Dream and any others you conjure up.
What I am saying, Americans and especially the blind-sighted constituents of Arizona, don't forget your roots. Harassing and bullying immigrants is not the way to deal with your immigration problem. It is not the way to deal with your drug problem. It is not the way to deal with your fleeting state economy. You need to be looking for drug dealers, not simply people who may make an unrelated mistake that is inevitably magnified because they are immigrants. Immigrants have and will always hold a place in the US, like any developed country. We need the labor resource to thrive and we need the cultural influx. Don't get confused: recession or not, under the table work has been occurring with natives as well as illegals, and chances are you have had work done, labor performed or a service rendered by someone who was not fully on the up and up. I believe our momentary economic downfall would be steepened without immigrants; the labor and services they often provide and that we often need are often only obtainable for the average person through the give and take situation provided by them. We need to assist anyone trying to legally assimilate into our country with a cohesive and affordable way to do that, not intimidate them into fleeing for the next state or ship that will have them. We need to mandate state and/or tribal identification cards so that there is no one roaming without proper Id's (asking them to carry 'papers' is a tad to reminiscent of both post-Emancipation days as well as mid-Hitler conquests with the Jews and their Davids). Raising the immigration fees for incoming applicants will only propel illegal immigration instead of stifle it. There is no reason we cant fix this now, as we always have. We are a county of resolve. Resolutions are our thing and we pride ourselves with the ability and ease of manifesting solutions to modern problems of various social, economic and international proportions. Dare I ask when that will start occurring? Because, as one pop-culture phenom once proclaimed, "It does not say RSVP on the Statue of Liberty"...not now, not ever.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Unconditional

He calls her his word but she is only his whisper. Beckoned when needed, never wanted, her soul withered. Loveless she thought, but this is the love that once made her quiver - earth shaking romance and timeless butterfly jitters. Dolled up dates and bright-light adventure. He used to say i love you in epic moments together. Sharing together was her pledge to his offer of forever. Now todays have halted in body and soul conquers.
He says I love you with a fist that swings and sways so loud, she could no longer confuse his actions with his vocal sounds. The bruises, she maintained, were chosen love notes. An i love you here and I need you there, her body tweaked from all his care and at times she thought his love would be the death of her. And he found time to write her daily, over dinner mishaps and misinterpreted sayings; his ego and pride co-authored his behavior. Love notes, she pleaded, so others wouldn't try to save her.
He calls her his word but she is only his whisper. In a dark corner in his mind he replays how he hits her. To ease his conscious over what once made him quiver - childhood screams from a mother jilted by jitters; a man who hit to make her come hither. He all too well remembers that abuse growing up- an emotional cycle he thought had made him tough. Yet he circled that same cycle to cover up the bad stuff. The pain and cries from his fathers 'unconditional' love..what always smothered his mother with scars and yet she never had enough. Love, he knew, was supposed to be rough.
He called her his word but she barely screamed or whispered. When he loved her too much and couldnt contain his temper. He flalled with his heart and struck with his furor. She whimpered to get away but he insisted on he wanted to love her. And teach her for good that his way was for better; the better of she, he and their warped forever.Yet his best was simply a burst of too much versus her enough. Not the eternity her little girl dreams were made of. And with that he sufficated the life of their together. She was unable to make it through his past, his hurt, his cycle of its never...enough. Love, he knew, was supposed to be too much.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Another Maybe

Maybe theres another way. Another chance. Maybe time has confused the present and the past,let them overlap and grasp at another hope. Another point of view into what was may blend and reshape itself into what may be. Maybe. Can you see what I see? A once upon a one time thing morphed into a full time swing and then crumbled into never-again-will-that-be-happening. Or will it? Maybe its different this time. The cosmos predict a greater incline and if ever, nows not that the time to resign on what may be. Maybe? Or...maybe Im readig my aquarial assessment all wrong. Conveniently placing you in my maybe future when you have been 'gone' all along. Off on your own may be and yet without me tagging along. Maybe you have forgotten our sentimental secrets...our memorable keepsakes...our unspoken ethos. Our effortless bliss. Maybe where greatness once stood lies a greater good in our solo stints. You vs. I in less of a competition but more of a cry for what was, but never realized and now we are back to synthesize the original errors made by both sides. Maybe? Though our mindsets and situations are worlds away, Im wondering maybe,just maybe, your closer now than ever before to being more than an eternal maybe...

Sandman

♥'s flirting with sleep so much - he's amazing. All day he teases me with hints of whats to come and I often yawn heavy and breathless in anticipation; every night we cuddle inbetween the covers while I lay blissfully in his seduction. Hours pass and moments lapse and I fall for his warmth while he eases my soul from the daily grind and I love him all the more for it; as if there were a love more necessary and sincere than this one. I need him, maybe more now than ever, and he needs me to need him. Thing is, how do you committ to a man who cant committ? Like clockwork, hes gone by sunrise to lull someone else all the way around the world,coddle their dreams and count their sheep, and Im left, drowsy through my day and wishing on shooting stars for his return. I guess its just beautiful as it is now - hes mine for a few hours and I'll take it. We whisper zzz's and smile sleepily and simply are..fleeting as it may be. I already know I wont last long with a man that cant last long...
Sandman, babe... I'll see you again soon

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Mixed Media Girls.

Mixed Media Girls.

At the moment

The scene is set to once again exit this chaotic labyrinth I'm in
Beautiful concrete whispers that hypnotize my skin, I tingle
Lights. Laugther. Love. Life
and deeper I'm lured.
Again I attempt to defend my sanity waning against the whimsical whims of this hasty sour apple to pleasure my senses and my curiosity beyond belief
but,
I fail and I flee for the nearest bridge to hurl to some sort of sanctuary...yet with all that is surrounding me, I'm still deep in my solitude from this city. Surrounded by water, an exit can be tricky. Millions of beings but I'm everlastingly empty. Hungry for someplace or something that fits me. A boroughed re-entry into my dreamed fantasy...
Until then, lost in my mental mystery of this mecca on an island, where all roads lead to crayon paths of confusion, I'll retreat to keep wanderin. Searching, searching for the nearest exit back to reality.

A Free Negress of Remarkable Talent

Im a free negress of remarkable talent. At least thats what they tell me. They say Im boundless. I may just have to consent to agree. I am boundless. Eclipsing even myself to surround success and pounce without a moment to hesitate...yet I digress. They tell me Im free to be whoever I please... me, myself and I simply want to be FREE. Unattached to orthodox and uninhibited by regularity. Without race, gender or reverting to simply appeasing thee. You dont like it? Take a hint and recede to the masses of 'us' - where conformists and naysayers find their way among the judgmental musk. Rank and reclusive with your swaying finger in my face, yet never face me in the same space. You speak of what you must - but I say Im free. Not held within some box or quota stagged by others or myself. Partially belonging to a society with its sovereignty, all the while my soul and intentions go rogue; I physically rest in between... a consistent tug-of-war. I speak and write deliberately; Dont ask about me if your not ready to receive all my ideas and thoughts; wrong or right they are mine to hold. Secrets and sadness, potential schemes untold all uniquely molded to me. I am boundless. One in a billion and you can count on this. There will never be another I who can make you laugh or make you cry - hold your tears while you learn to fly, and all the while you miss me. Miss the talent I possess or the sass thats clever and jest or the independence that I carry within every breath. This is me. Good or bad, with varying degrees for indecisiveness and subliminal uncertainty. I think I am, I think I am has surely transformed to YES!, I is she and she is boundless. A free negress of remarkable talent, that is.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Call me a revolutionary

Call me a revolutionary, call me a dreamer; but really, Im just waiting for the world to change. Waiting for the masses mindset to rearrange - for the bottom to be the top and for the top to be untamed. Endless,boundless and blissfully reclaimed by the better thoughts and ideas that float around us, subtly dubbed insane. Great madness and whimsy from rational minds to persuade the big and the restless to do what's humane. To do for others as you would do for yourself - no more more no less and anything selfless would be success. Longing for the hearts to do what they can and take the stress of cruelty off of man; I is not we and truly we is the apart of a bigger plan. People stare in recluse, thinking this impossibility is surely the thoughts of a madman. The novice words of a free-man, sans reality, in a world where the average is caged in. And thats fine. Maybe they arent meant to be, at this time and place in our current and history. But I'll tell you what - you can always find me, waiting for the world to change...

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Yesterday I had a test...

Yesterday I had a test.
A test of faith, resilliance, and struggle;a test of will,if you will, to keep going. To keep believeing in myself against the doubt of others and my own deepest fears. He gave me a lesson in not succeding, a swift pop quiz in life's aches when your not acheiving. Dissapointment so raw and so real, I have to keep maintaining and breathing. And keep steady - 'this is a test Christine, are you ready?'. To hear 'no' when it sounds like a million doors closing over and over and over again. No (slam) we simply can't let you in. No (slam) we cant let you in. Slam,slam...no matter what I cant win.
But that was yesterday, so felt is more appropriate I should say. The lesson I learned spoke of the past and the difference between tomorrow. Let those past feelings die and not shape tomorrow's unknown. Trying hard to remember today is a blessed struggle, one that I should welcome with open arms and an open mind. But I cant accept today while always looking behind. Cant accept my future if these tests I do not pass; if I truly dont learn from them and make that lesson last. For life. God gives me these tests to help guide my way and guide my star...he means no harm. I would be the same 'ole same 'ole if my everyday went unchanged. He knows best that I cant wait to be better and his tests help to stregthen my endevor. And prepare me for a future so bright I will need him to lead my way - by the light and his Might I will never falter in my days. Lord knows, I need Him to help me always.

Yesterday I had a test. And today is another. But I will make it. Amen.

Thank You For Reminding Me Why

You remind me of the mistake I keep repeating. The cycle of has been's that would have been had we kept meeting. The sly lines and deep voice that left me heavily breathing. The suspect grin and spontaneous sins that at once made things interesting. Who know you were so much of my love deja vu that I should have known the ending before we ever had a beginning.
This is cause for a redo. Rewind the clock, set me back in my spot and let life continue...sans meeting you.Minus meeting the him and the him before too. And you can keep the like that are bound to ensue - those simply passing the time by passing through. My soul is long overdue for something real and renewed, and I realize now I would rather be empty than lifelessly filled with all of your untruths. Anyone who reincarnates my past mishaps I want nothing to do.
But I suppose Im not empty after all. My dignity and self-worth stand mountains tall. Above you and our make belief infatuation...love is was not, thats not mistaking. I am more than the labels you put before my name. I should always be first and foremost me. And I'm full of myself so please, let me be. Let me feast on this experience and gain some relief that I am once again smarter than the last mofo who met me. I simply continue to live and thrive and most of all survive...thank you for reminding me of why.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

They may hear us

Shh, they may hear us. Whispering, though its so loud in this supreme quiet it is deafening. Speaking of things that are, but shouldn't be; reality as it is, as we see. A revolution in its infancy - a war of words against the tyranny of silence. This is slow coming. Never mind us, yet, we are simply conversing - getting the word out about the obvious but unnoticed things.
The serial killer aimlessly roaming, cloaked in a falice and vaginal clothing. Walking with legs of ignorance and steadily growing; killing and killing with all of us knowing. An acronym of an assumed death sentence with letters otherwise...A.I.D.S might as well spell lies. Not taking heed or taking aim is unjustly wasting time. but,
Shhh, they may hear we. Speaking in a back alley to a desperate mother of three. She wants to abort her growth, but do so dangerously. Little does she know of the education to prevent such seeds, under negligent governments neglecting, to protect herself and future offspring. She listens intently to the hope we are hissing...no one has ever given her the facts about this Pill we speak. She is beyond intrigued. A sheath for his weapon before entering? She admits shes never seen such a thing; men with knowledge never share anything worth sharing.
Shhh,they may hear me. Speaking boldly about chance and opportunity. Giving light to the dark and hopeless beings...the grass is greener when you believe in actually seeing. Books, knowledge and power are there if you are given the drive to begin seeking. The world is in the palm of your hand little one, don't be shy to take it. And run. Because others are out there who want to keep you from ever taking action. Want to keep you tied to the ground; better yet, bury you beneath it. Want your body and soul to wither having forever been barren.
This is a verbal revolution for the people. Those who are undereducated, unknowing and separate and unequal. Theres no need to stand in the outfields. Silence is the best promoter of silence...so speak. Let your voice be heard; never shun at the sound of your own audacity to ask, seek, find the means to become a better being. Never settle for less than inhumanity ceasing; whats mines is yours and yours for the keeping. Let them hear you preaching that you have the right to touch any light you are reaching. Stars are closer than they seem, especially when the sky begins so dark.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Just a little thought...

Irony is a paradox in which we all play. We mind fuck ourselves to keep a little sane. To at least try to maintain...to at least decipher the thoughts going on in our brain. Least I have to truly explain, this world is crazy. You think your a player one minute and the next your on the wrong team not even playing. Getting tossed an evolving situation with no words to say anything. With no breath to keep defending. With no heart left to keep mending.
How ironic - weren't we all at one point winning? When did the referee of life come in to confuse the game; to make matters more insane; to drown any drain we have left to filter the good from the bad? How can I tell what I should and should not have? What to keep persuing and what to finally leave in the past? I for one hope this irony doesnt last. Ironically enough, I know it always will. I'll never have all the answers, I suppose thats part of lifes thrill. I'll always be Alice with my bottle and my pill; take a sip here, pop a tab there. Too big, too small; Irony, Im to the point where I dont care. Your Wonderland of 'what if's' and 'maybe I can' have me spinning - unraveling my sanity down a hole never ending. Ironically enough, I know this is just the beginning; Im too young to simply have this as my ending. I'll faithfully follow this mysterious white rabbit hoping my future is bright enough to light the dark tunnel Im entering, because I may be here awhile. Wondering and wandering, walking miles and miles. Solo on this trip down lifes nile. And unaided by a map or a crazy mofo hatter. Still without help, I'll make it - I suppose how doesn't matter. I couldnt begin to figure it out if i wanted to. And I do but I dont. Im simply the driver and passenger, along for the ride, in the ride of my life. And truly, isn't that ironic; don't ya think?

Let me stop laughing long enough to write this...

Thank you; thank you; thank you - your far to kind. Givin me a shout out in the mirror *bust out a Halle Berry*- dont press stop, nah nigga lets rewind. The last thing I would post is my insecurity? The first step in confidence starts with C, so where exactly is your point E? You lost me...seriously. Apparently when you were lying and being civil with she, u never truly saw me...cuz I dont play games, I play for keeps. Well, when its worth keeping - I peeped your game, turns out afterall you werent worth peeping. I never come second, in anything I do...first born, first place, first to cum, first to spot your shit a mile away. And land hoe captin - your shit is LAME. I told you what you were gonna do before you even had the thought to do it; your a puppet in this life, I thought you knew this? Surprise, and here you are thinking you outgrew it. What else you got to throw with? Ive been 3000 miles away, on the coast where the sun forever plays, whats new in this situation that I didnt already say? oh that you love me and want me to play wife one day. Ha ha, no way. Like I said, I am ALL about mine. 24/7 365...theres no room for you and your trival ny redevous. Running into ex's in LITERALLY the biggest city in the world...please, houdini, how do you magically manage that? She knows your puppet strings as well as I; hustle, hustle, hustle, barely get by, write a word here write a word there, sigh. REPEAT. Something told me you werent a man about yours, but silly me, did I listen. That body for days had me distracted from this west coast distance. Your lulleyby's cuddled me at night when I really should have just had someone complete by my side. But lovey your right, I did wake up. That sun and shine hit my face so abrupt...and wow I see the light. Your not worth the fight. I look in the mirror, worried your maddness may have caused me to loose sight. Nah, dont fret my pet, Im still bomb as ever. Dont love me, save that for heather...or sarah, or whoever the fuck comes next. Maybe they wont will hear your game and wont see you lame, and so wont object. I hope for your sake that happens. Until then, go about your life and I will mos def go about mine. Keep hatin from where the sun dont shine. I have worlds to conquer. You may keep gaming, cuz well, lovely you have the time.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Touche and Ta Ta

In the blink of an eye forever was decapitated. It’s head on the floor, its loveline too heavily jaded. Stumbling into the street, confused by dreams constintly evaded. Wooda coulda shoulda’s nicknamed from consistantly being complacent. Dealing with ‘this’ and your femme obession has me exasperated. She win? That can be highly debated; I gave you up. A drug habit, I got my fix, and now my high is up. Ink and lines do me so much better you and tired lies. A month and some change but any longer would have been wasted time. You couldnt wait to get played – looks like you just made it. I realeased you, didnt I? Shes already on your page; Im sure glanced across your mind. Thats fine. I gave you up. Theres little room in my life for a manic dreamer. Come back down friend and get your shit together. Ive already seen you falter…lil boy dont think I dont know you called her. You miss her. And are there any leftovers? That must be you. Your the creme de la creme of the bottom barrel busters too; desperate, needy and wanting more than whats due to you. Thats why I gave you up. Thanks for my out by the way,that part was sort of tough. This is hard and This is tough… Commence with your life and slumming with whats rough; whats weathered and tethered and used up, ya know, from way too much ‘love’. Gem my ass; more more like a diamond in the dump. Coincidence you live so close? Nope, I think not. Knowing you, your gonna come back with lines and aquareal attacks – I know you. And thats koo. But know this…I’ll always be the one who played you at your game boo

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Something ...and its about time.

I feel creatively frustrated. Mentally stagnated, verbally constipated, lyrically unmotivated. My senses are jaded and for far too long now I cant seem to shake it. Unstimulated by the happenings in the world, the madness being debated, Im lacking the passion to get words copulating; forming sentences and ideas, stanzas laced with pronouns and adjectives conjugating. Instead Im listless, adhering to academic and employment obligations – cant they see I just want to write?! Day and night I struggle with the internal fight to leave everything alone and do as I like – but instantly my bohemian fantasies take flight, and Im back to being blanker than the paper before me. This poetically challenged haze Im in has me feeling inebriated - only Im not drunk off ink or high on lines. Im pacing back and forth with cranial thoughts unsigned. I wait patiently for them to come out, a rockstar groupie of my own mind, but true to form they decline. Fleeting anxieties whisper to me that I need to work for mine...somehow this is new news to me. My poetic ecstasy used to come so easily, do it’s thing, then exit the scene gracefully – a beck and call greatness with no signs of vacating. Yet here I am, pen in hand, breathless and waiting. Like a true junkie, I need more from me to take thee to the depths and heights I now have to squint to see. To take me to the top like I plan to be; to make me truly great like the writers now I read. I have to plant that seed. There’s no room to sow a future of immobility. I gotta keep it pushin. Always, always – gotta keep it pushin.

I look down, and I see theres ink dancing on the page. Even when I loose my way, my pen never roams astray...always,always gotta keep it pushin.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

It's ok; I'm just a slave to words

I live among workers and mass producers. Chronic caffeine abusers and nicotine doers...Glass ceiling movers and pencil eraser chewers. Those who clock in and out of work to live but are never really living at all. How can you even breathe when your running so fast to catch your breath?
I live among workers and mass producers. "Yes sir and ma'am" procurers, and paper shoving mules. Less human and more clone, always doing what they are told; walk now vs. don't go, stay in line and don't mess up the flow. How do you claim to think when others tell you what you should know?
I live among workers and mass producers. Taxi cab whores and underdog lords...no time off because they can't afford; no real life because they cant endure. Reality is limited to their clipboards, a 9-5 hustle to seek monetary rewards...How can anyone pay you for missing what your future may have had in store?
I'm no ones worker, employee or user. No ones bi-monthly paycheck pursuers, no ones overtime doer. I live for me. Im my best and worst boss - I give it my all and the rewards outweigh the costs. I have no paycheck; the world pays me in always reading and appreciating, hanging on my last work and breathlessly waiting...greatness comes on no ones clock. Theres no 401k, no pension plan, as if those worked; How do you retire from the reason you were born? You don't, you can't, so I wont. I'm no ones worker, employee or user. Shit, this writing thing is my lifetime job. And it's ok; I'm just a slave to words.

Lovestoned

We hardly sleep, but he keeps me dreaming
Eyes wide shut, lovestoned thoughts keep my lids from fleeting
He and I in the city where Angels keep conceiving
The best of the best - no wonder this is where were meeting.

Bicoastal fantasies grow into reality by the minute
You make us more complete with every doubter you've threatened
Successful ambition you carry is definitely your deadliest weapon
Keep my heart in your hands, our feelings now will stay golden 

Your ink caught me - hook, line and sinker
It writes the rest to make my whole, yet still my feelings go deeper
A web full of the unknown but I run to hurry and enter
A never ending story with you and 'us' is all I can picture

He lets me believe in the impossible
Love actually found in a world where no one else is able
Hearts stretched across the states so my wishes stay hopeful
Of the two morphing to one - God forever I'll be grateful


Wednesday, February 24, 2010

I before she

I before she, especailly after we - this X factor is a game and I play for keeps. Do you a favor, dont try to compete. Mama putting X's to shame is my speciality. Im the best of the best, capital C...have you even noticed your name comes after me? Don't trouble your weave, dont think too deep, it's really not that hard to see - once upon a time there was you, until he got bored and got through, and along came me; stepping on your tracks, onto the exit you proceed. Boo's off to manifest his destiny, right minded star-blinded fun in the sun sexy, dreams grow beastly, moi on his side beaming. Its a We thing - of which you know nothing. Yes you cry and you plead, beg for a 2nd, all while on your knees...but the truth of the matter is lames like you need to take heed- I dont play with little girls, nah , grown chicks play for keeps. Im not tryin to be nice so dont look for a please. This aint no junior high shit, theres no box marked with no or maybe. Your antics slay me; you only ask him that I look better than you? Trick have you seen me?? Oh, of course you have - I'm all over your screen; when you stalk his page its me you see smiling keen. You call incessently while its me hes keeping. I know your seething. Real chicks know your bitchy ass tricks and for sure your hating. It's ok, i dont blame you, but remember what I keep saying: I play for keeps so give up the gaming.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

A Daily Truth

Im sitting next to the Truth and its not pretty.
Right next to me on the 2, high-speed railing into the City.
This Truth is cold and gritty, defeated and shitty, hustlin to make it like some borough gypsy
A Truth, soulless and empty, degrading its essence for mere dimes and pennies, pride willing, always hoping the next stop is humanity and empathy...but this train doesn't stop for pity.
The Truth is awakening me; poetry and song from all cornors of reality, from all degrees of 'needing', from a world so far from the one Im adept to seeing.
But Im sitting next to the Truth and its shamefully enticing; I cant look away, but its painful what Im seeing. I look into the eyes of a life trying to do the right thing, stuck in the dirt, grinding, on this train publicly seeking a better truth but never finding. The sight is paralyzing and I feel tears crying, heartfelt aches for this raw Truth staring back at me. I want to get off and flee this intense scene but nah, theres no escaping. The Truth sees through me, through the mayballine, and sees my soul shaking; my lips want to say theres hope, but whats the use in faking. We both know this world is cold and truth is, theres no help waiting.
We jerk to a halt and part, the Truth and I, the silence saying an unspoken goodbye. The Truth to find another hustle, another way, and me to continue to get by. But now i know the truth, I cant ever deny, and the grim of the City never lies...its cold in this concrete jungle, the Truth can testify.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

I'll always be the first and last one listening

Say something. Say something to me. Say something to distract me from reality...anything worth me listening. I want to be lost in your whimsical oratory; verbs and adjectives spoken with glory. Please recite your story directly to me. Word for word, turn history into poetry.
Speak. But speak off key, off the record, say something dirty to me. Feel free to let your voice run its words all over and roam free..find anyplace interesting? Tell all, everything, exactly what your thinking. No hesitation, no braking.
Tell me. But tell me earnestly. Tell me something I can see. Let your words build the promises you seek; Mountain high challenges you conquer with a mic and a sheath. Let your lips illustrate for me your goals and dreams. I can't wait to hear what you already see.
Whisper. Whisper something secret to me. Treasured secrets you thought you'd never repeat. Memories you keep only between the heaven and seas, share them with me. It's ok - I'm trustworthy.
And when there are no more words, no more praise to preach, write to me. Invent words and ways to tell me whatever it is you dare not even speak. Capture your love and pain with black and blue ink. Let every trouble you've reached die off at the tip of the pen where ink meets the lined brink.
And now, don't say anything at all. The paper can take it from here. If others want to hear, let them wait, let them read. Save your words, your voice, your lips and your breath for me. Don't give the last of it away - save it for we. And when the day is over and done, while the suns last rays are sinking, know that Im here. I'll always be the first and last one listening. As long as you say something to me.