If you listen closely, you can hear them. Trying. Seeping through my walls, under my door, in between my window panes...crawling into my world from right beyond the next.
Them - these - infinite cravings entice me, moaning in the night well into day; well into a deep and desperate unrest. The yearns lull me at times - a habitual lullaby - its rhythmic beating, persistent against so many morals and ethics; despite so many attempts to extinguish its whispers. It cries louder and louder, hungered by the tasty tidbits of the city:
Lights, camera, action....enter, addiction. Onto stage left. Creeping to center stage. Cue the junkies. Them - they - want to be my new friend.
Keep on. Cant you tell its from a place so near...
glamorous ideas of grandeur: pop me, snort me, smoke me, invite me via vein if it means I'm yours. The taunting is never lost and all too readily found, invading my space and calling my name. It knows me by name, by face and try as I may, my head leans toward the the lures at times.
Here, here, I can supply your curiosity's whims if you'd only let me in...
The nights are lonely and any company is sometimes welcome. Even if it may become a monkey on my back.
Nights darkness can cover the illicit affairs. Secret procedures and hazed recoveries. Enjoy and repeat Im told. Sounds like so many played out movies. Like so many played out stars. But its night and any and every star can shine brightly if exposed to the right concoctions. Including me. What once swallowed me into sleep with its breathy temptations now keeps me awake thinking and hints at the endless bounty awaiting me - should I just let them in. Crawling from the world right beyond the next, should I just let them in.
Only hours before the sun kissed dawn and Im alone left to wonder. How bright do I want to shine... Should I just let them in?
Friday, January 14, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Column: The Black Burden
While watching my nightly indulgence of lighthearted sitcoms on a well-known black network, I was shocked to find myself bombarded with numerous airings of a ridiculous and racist commercial that I couldn’t believe was actually airing; on this station, countless times. It began with your typical surge of public opinion after the narrator asks, “ What is the #1 cause of death of African Americans?” People naturally stated the obvious leaders - HIV/AIDS, gang relations, murder, cancer, and others causes sharing the similar fatal outcome. I, along with those featured, were curious to find out this mystery answer, thinking 'Im black, the people on the ad are black, this is a black network – how educational and opportune of them to inform their viewers of this assumed ‘killer’ on the loose and how I can now be aware and possibly avoid it', right? If only it were that simple.
This “cause of death” – as inaccurately phrased in my opinion – was revealed to be abortions. In fact, they state that black abortions, or abortions performed on black women, make up 35% of all abortions and because of such, has reduced the black population by over 25% since 1973. Bluntly put, “a black baby” – ‘baby’ being an emotional word since no abortion is ever performed on an existing baby – “is three times more likely to be aborted than a white baby”. I will be the first to say that this news is overwhelming. It saddens me, as the double-minority black female they are targeting to hear such facts. It is truly a problematic situation of despair and an extreme lack of preparation or planning that even allows for disheartening statistics like these. And while I have all the sympathy in the world for women, of any color, who have come to this life-altering decision and feel the need to go through with an abortion, I in no way excuse or appreciate this propagandized commercial.
Fueled by blackdignity.com, the ad directly reflects abortion within the black community as not having pride or dignity for our race, and irresponsibly ‘causing’ a sort of genocide within ourselves. The commercial proceeds to show the stunned faces of young black people, like myself and the rest of their targeted fertile and youthful audience watching, hearing the reality that because of abortions, the black community is diminishing, all while loosing our distinction and character. Translation? Having an abortion is wrong. Why? Not wrong because God says so, or because it’s a huge decision that no one should really have to make, not even because of the possible health and emotional trauma one may have. No, its wrong because it’s causing black deaths of a collection of cells that scientifically and biologically, have yet to form anything, let alone an actual child. Moreover, a black child. But I digress…
I feel the strongest point this commercial - fear tactic - lacks in its entire thirty-two seconds of airtime is that truly, in reality, a lack of education to young people, especially women, along with a culture built around glamourous and unsafe sex is the root in this swell of terminations. Often people illustrate the term abortion with literally killing a child and that is far from the case. Abortion, by definition, is a procedure to end pregnancy, yes, but at a safe and humane stage of cell mutation when a fertilized egg is still an embryo. As well, people don’t end pregnancies for no reason, regardless of race and ethnicity; 100% of the time the situation, whatever it may be, is not conducive to bringing a child into the world. Supporting it, loving it and nourishing a soul both financially and emotionally, as society demands are not within capacity for so many people. Reluctantly, one cant hash over the state of abortions now, without reeling where abortions have been. Whether you are pro-life or pro-choice, it is hard to deny the menacing history self-imposed misbirths have been for women, let alone black women, and the humane progress that has been made. We have come from literally poisoning ourselves in hopes of ridding an unwanted fetus, to physically using rusted wire coat hangers to end a shameful pregnancy. Yet in 2011, there is still the humiliation and an unspoken social shun of terminating a pregnancy and because of such, women turn to disastrous methods- including back- alley abortions. All of this is reality, but you didn't see any of this the half-minute guilt trip. Instead, the commercial continued the cycle of disgrace that comes along with abortions and the decision to have one, instead of providing a resource for real dignity, real pride, real self-respect: education. Education is the key to ‘save’ the black culture from its supposed genocide due to abortions. Informing young people about the risks and reprocutions of sex - even if some think its a dead horse issue. With a 3:1 ratio of black abortion, the topic is far from over-discussed. Still no one is doing so – condoms are seen as accessories not necessities, birth control is expensive and not readily available. Ironically, the culture trying to be saved is the same culture that praises rims over responsibility, hood rich instead of soundly wealthy; dough boys instead of doctorates and diplomas. Our deficit in education is the true culprit for the 35% of women who feel they have no choice, know no better, and are forced to stand in the statistical line of women who are branded as being guilty of not only aborted 'babies', but hopes and dreams. That, Im sorry to say, is the true black indignity.
This “cause of death” – as inaccurately phrased in my opinion – was revealed to be abortions. In fact, they state that black abortions, or abortions performed on black women, make up 35% of all abortions and because of such, has reduced the black population by over 25% since 1973. Bluntly put, “a black baby” – ‘baby’ being an emotional word since no abortion is ever performed on an existing baby – “is three times more likely to be aborted than a white baby”. I will be the first to say that this news is overwhelming. It saddens me, as the double-minority black female they are targeting to hear such facts. It is truly a problematic situation of despair and an extreme lack of preparation or planning that even allows for disheartening statistics like these. And while I have all the sympathy in the world for women, of any color, who have come to this life-altering decision and feel the need to go through with an abortion, I in no way excuse or appreciate this propagandized commercial.
Fueled by blackdignity.com, the ad directly reflects abortion within the black community as not having pride or dignity for our race, and irresponsibly ‘causing’ a sort of genocide within ourselves. The commercial proceeds to show the stunned faces of young black people, like myself and the rest of their targeted fertile and youthful audience watching, hearing the reality that because of abortions, the black community is diminishing, all while loosing our distinction and character. Translation? Having an abortion is wrong. Why? Not wrong because God says so, or because it’s a huge decision that no one should really have to make, not even because of the possible health and emotional trauma one may have. No, its wrong because it’s causing black deaths of a collection of cells that scientifically and biologically, have yet to form anything, let alone an actual child. Moreover, a black child. But I digress…
I feel the strongest point this commercial - fear tactic - lacks in its entire thirty-two seconds of airtime is that truly, in reality, a lack of education to young people, especially women, along with a culture built around glamourous and unsafe sex is the root in this swell of terminations. Often people illustrate the term abortion with literally killing a child and that is far from the case. Abortion, by definition, is a procedure to end pregnancy, yes, but at a safe and humane stage of cell mutation when a fertilized egg is still an embryo. As well, people don’t end pregnancies for no reason, regardless of race and ethnicity; 100% of the time the situation, whatever it may be, is not conducive to bringing a child into the world. Supporting it, loving it and nourishing a soul both financially and emotionally, as society demands are not within capacity for so many people. Reluctantly, one cant hash over the state of abortions now, without reeling where abortions have been. Whether you are pro-life or pro-choice, it is hard to deny the menacing history self-imposed misbirths have been for women, let alone black women, and the humane progress that has been made. We have come from literally poisoning ourselves in hopes of ridding an unwanted fetus, to physically using rusted wire coat hangers to end a shameful pregnancy. Yet in 2011, there is still the humiliation and an unspoken social shun of terminating a pregnancy and because of such, women turn to disastrous methods- including back- alley abortions. All of this is reality, but you didn't see any of this the half-minute guilt trip. Instead, the commercial continued the cycle of disgrace that comes along with abortions and the decision to have one, instead of providing a resource for real dignity, real pride, real self-respect: education. Education is the key to ‘save’ the black culture from its supposed genocide due to abortions. Informing young people about the risks and reprocutions of sex - even if some think its a dead horse issue. With a 3:1 ratio of black abortion, the topic is far from over-discussed. Still no one is doing so – condoms are seen as accessories not necessities, birth control is expensive and not readily available. Ironically, the culture trying to be saved is the same culture that praises rims over responsibility, hood rich instead of soundly wealthy; dough boys instead of doctorates and diplomas. Our deficit in education is the true culprit for the 35% of women who feel they have no choice, know no better, and are forced to stand in the statistical line of women who are branded as being guilty of not only aborted 'babies', but hopes and dreams. That, Im sorry to say, is the true black indignity.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
A memorable meet
Arrogance is self inflicted ignorance, not confidence as always referenced. You wear it so well, its weird that you actually got caught up in its spell; its confusion, its desire, its facade. 15 minutes of fame because your submerged in lifes game...until they forget your name when the play doesnt go the winning way. What can I say...you walk the walk and talk the talk but your pride doesnt feed on this scene like it used to...Has no one told you, your better that that? ...I would have assured you.
I must admitt, you do this thing with your cheeks and your grin that might have made me lead to sin had I not remembered what they say and certainly where you've been. Your all too legendary with the female kin. I almost gave in... you almost came down. The high horse you sit atop floating on clouds. The praises they throw that loft you up. I cant lift you that high so here we are stuck. A middle ground unmet and Im disheartened and your stuck up. Dont look now, but I thought the real you was trying to come out. Its sweet and longing, sincere with a drip of earnest. Boy are you sexy when you peek through the spotlight and stand on your own. Cuz I dont believe in shooting stars - fade away dreams or fly by night boys. Empty promises and little kid toys. Then again, you love the flashing lights and how can 1 girl compete with that?
I must admitt, you do this thing with your cheeks and your grin that might have made me lead to sin had I not remembered what they say and certainly where you've been. Your all too legendary with the female kin. I almost gave in... you almost came down. The high horse you sit atop floating on clouds. The praises they throw that loft you up. I cant lift you that high so here we are stuck. A middle ground unmet and Im disheartened and your stuck up. Dont look now, but I thought the real you was trying to come out. Its sweet and longing, sincere with a drip of earnest. Boy are you sexy when you peek through the spotlight and stand on your own. Cuz I dont believe in shooting stars - fade away dreams or fly by night boys. Empty promises and little kid toys. Then again, you love the flashing lights and how can 1 girl compete with that?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)