Conformed to Love

I feel like you're an island of reality in an ocean of diarrhea...

2010-07-04T23:28:00.000-07:00

everyday gets easier. and then some nights.... it feels like my heart breaks all over again.

thinking out loud.

2010-06-20T22:31:00.000-07:00

So I've been going through a break-up for umm... almost two months now. I finally got through the hardest days... feeling like I wanted to die, not eating, obsessively thinking about what went wrong or what he's doing.

He found his own way of moving on. And I've tried finding mine. I tried exercising, singing, writing, therapy, studying. At least at first. To get over the utter despair. And none of that shit worked... or maybe all of it worked. I'm not sure because I just needed a minute, to let the angst pass. I can see his name or picture without chest pain now... and I can finally stop looking at both just in case I can't.

I tried rushing to date other people.... so I could disrupt the urges I had to call or to combat the loneliness. But what worked for him, moving on to the next thing of interest, didn't work for me. I don't want a relationship based in anything less than a deep emotional connection. If I can't find that, or if I'm not ready... I don't want anything. So while I was worried staying single would send the message that I was waiting for him, or too hurt to move on... I know I will date when I'm ready, and now, I'm just not. I'm not only still not over my past relationship, but in retrospect, I probably wasn't ready to be in one in the first place.

People always say love will find you once you find yourself. Maybe I thought I got lucky cause I found love while I was still tryna figure the self part out. But that's not the case. And I don't care what he thinks. I'm not over what we had because it was that special to me. And it meant something because in the end, I finally figured out that I need to finish building my house before I look for a roommate.

It's not easy. For one, because I'm downright lonely. For two, because I'm terribly busy studying for the bar. For three because it's hard finding yourself when you're not sure where to look.

I miss our conversations. I miss watching you work. I miss falling asleep on the phone. Talking through sunrise. Holding hands in the village. I miss feeling safe. I miss feeling loved... even though I doubted it. I miss feeling understood. and I just... I just knew it was my turn this time...

And it wasn't. I just need to be ok. To work through these feelings of inadequacy. I want to say it's ok that I've never had a boyfriend, and never brought a guy home to meet my parents... or had a guy interested in doing so. But it isn't. It affects me deeply and until I accept it and become truly happy with myself... I'll never attract the love I want. I just don't understand why it's so damn hard to do. Only thing I could think of that's more difficult than that... is getting over him.

FREE.

2010-06-03T22:33:00.000-07:00

Free just may be my favorite word. I found the following on my desk when I was cleaning up. and at the top it read: FREE. All caps. Period. And it is at the root of everything I write. Your freedom and mine. Tell me what you think.

It is said that definitions belong to the definers
but when no one involved knows who they are in the first place,
all the words end up muddled
into a sea of oxymoronic phrases
and the only thing you can't confuse,
is the truth

that to be touched, is to be emotionally affected

that my greatest moment of weakness
and my most profound moment of strength
would collide at full speed
and though my vehicle is damaged
I would appear to emerge unscathed
that another being could rob me of agency
I never knew I had
that an act so motivated by the power of another of another
could empower me
that I will always remember the moment
I paid someone else to help me forget

to be touched, is to have come into contact with

to lay a hand upon.
and who would think,
that bare hands
could reach a heart, a home, a soul, so deeply
and that something so dirty
could be purely- physical
that the only evidence it left behind
is etched in the front of my cerebral cortex
and something I swore would never happen again,
has attached itself to every facet of my life
and what always seemed so black and white
was only grey matter
what seemed so consequential
I had the power to make Not. Matter.
But no matter what I did
I couldn't make it better
because when it couldn't get any worse,
it encouraged my best.

to be touched, is to be moved

I was taken from a place of sanity
diagnosed with a condition
and the cause of my current state,
my conditioner if you will,
was by definition-
supposed to improve the quality of some other material
for everything he broke,
I gained the power to fix
and where he left me bare, I had access
to reach inward to repair...
all without leaving another scar
It appears God only works in the strangest of ways.
for a moment that stopped so much of my life...
it did just that.
stopped.so.much.of.my.life.
but the truth that sets this free
is that for all that it stopped,
it allowed me to go on
just never in the same way
and when things don't remain the same,
but the change is good
we call it progress
we can change the way we battle
but we can't control the test
and how crazy is it that
the most dehumanizing of all tragedies
has strengthened in me,
the most human of all emotions:
LOVE.
and I've never found discomfort in insanity,
because genius, requires it
it is said that definitions belong to the definers
perhaps only until they are taken by the defined
and the only thing left upon which to rely...

is the truth.

(Wrote this sometime in 2009)

who do you want to receive your love?

2010-06-02T21:37:00.000-07:00

I got asked an interesting question. What do I want in a guy? not just a guy... the guy. Or some variation of that. And to be honest, I have a habit of picking victims who lack emotional maturity... they are never in a place that they are ready to love me. Not until I let them go. I'm tired of that. I know I do not want that.

But what do I want? After so much pain and so many failed relationships... the most recent being like ummm yesterday just about... I think I only know what I don't. First and foremost I don't want to live in fear. And I say that because right now i shudder at the thought of doing this all over again. i did before him, i cried on his shoulder and told him how scared i was of going through exactly what i'm going through now. if you tell a robber, please don't steal from me... i've been robbed 3 times this year... he's still going to want your diamond necklace. and at the end of the day, there's little i can do about it.

but i digress. what I want in a partner is chemistry, honesty, and respect. i want him to have a job that pays well, can have long hours but also has short ones. I love children, would never eliminate a man with them... but I don't want him to have kids. i want us to dream together. about the birth of our first child. i want him to love me. really love me. love every part of me. and understand me. i want him to be intelligent...but not so much that he can't enjoy the banal.

i want him to say sweet things... but not rehearsed or forced... just a genuine interest in me. i'd like him to be open with me and be able to maintain mystery. i want him to think about others... be concerned with a cause enough to actively work toward correcting it. Not necessarily as a career, but financially or through service.

i want him to respect women... treasure them. and I want him to have a past that he has learned from and a future he's excited about. i want him to be spiritual, maybe even religious... understanding that I'm not, and convicted enough that he believes i will. i'd like us to pray together. to surround ourselves with friends and family. for once to clearly define the boundaries of a relationship and do so without hesitation.

I want him to be tall, dark, handsome... charming, affectionate... and passionate. Passionate about life. He also better love my dog. Not necessarily all dogs... but mine. And mostly... for him to be proud to have me... and offer me security. No more excuses. No missed dates. Maybe some hand holding too... oh yea, no more long distance!

like drowning.

2010-06-02T20:43:00.000-07:00

My therapist asked me what this felt like. at the time, I couldn't verbalize it, all I could say was... bad. it hurt. i felt dumb. used. frustrated. confused. more used. scared. tired. when relationships end, you work to convince yourself one way or the other, that you actually hated the other person and it's best, or that you loved the other person and it was just time. well i felt both those things because to date i'm not sure what exactly it was.

a large part of me believes i was used. that's his modus operendi. to use until there is none left. and he doesn't love me. he can't because love doesn't remain silent for a month while I lost weight, cried daily, stopped eating, slept all day, and vomited when it was all too much. love doesn't refuse you closure. and he has.

but what i fear the most... is that i fell in love with a monster. a liar and a cheat. and man who lacks compassion. like the woman who discovers her husband of several years was a serial killer. you can say all you want, he was just a bad person.. but what does it say about you that of all the people in the world who needed it, you chose to give yours to the most undeserving of them all.

my mind thought this. my mind understands these feelings. they are logical feelings. but my heart.... my heart can't think about these feelings... it just feels like.... drowning.

like everyday i'm drowning... fighting like hell to stay above water but some days i sink to the bottom and stay there. until i regain the will to push myself back up again. the days i go out and have a good time... is like the split second my head pops out of the water to catch my breath. Then it hits me that it's not only over, but when it happened it was rooted in deception and i sink back down again. the days i give in i relax my muscles, sink back down to the bottom and slowly float up. i use astrology, prayer, therapy, writing as buoys my savior throws at me. I grasp at them in desperate attempts to keep from drowning to death. it's fucking exhausting. and what keeps me afloat... is sheer will. just the will to come out of the water after all is said and done.

what I can say is, the thing about almost drowning is... i'm not like the women he burned, or shot, or beat. I don't have permanent scars. we don't have children, or accounts, or a home together. so when i do come out of this water... the sun will dry any remnants i have of what we shared.... letters, photos, jewelry perfume. and i won't have the kinds of scars that last forever.

eventually i'll realize what feels like an ocean is only a pool... and if I manage to stand... I'll be ok after all.

2010-05-26T22:59:00.000-07:00

I feel you near.

I remember a time when we were together... I'd get your text or call just when I needed you. Or I'd be worried about you and you'd say you were fine but... I knew when you needed me. I know how you are when you're down. You keep to yourself. Stay quiet. I used to worry that all that rumbling in your brain would kill you. That no one could keep that much inside.

And now that there is nothing but pain and anger and sadness and love between us... I wonder if what I'm feeling is real. I worry about you. At times, I feel as if I can feel your sadness. Other times, like I can feel you thinking of me.

I'm so angry with you. I'm so hurt by you. But I love you. With every muscle in my body I do... I swear. I'm learning to deal with it.... but I loved you so deeply, I feel like I can feel your sadness. Like I can feel you near me, thinking of me. I'm probably wrong... but my heart pains me... and that same heart tells me it's pain we share.

It's been 20 days.

I still feel you near.

No 808s, just the latter.

2010-05-16T23:16:00.000-07:00

This verse starts as my snipers hit they marks...

and your guards fall down from a rifle to the heart.

I learned that at its core, love is about trust. And when it's destroyed, without dedicating yourselves fully to repairing it, it's only a matter of time before it all crumbles before you. And I also learned that, if you go into every situation with you guard up, you become so weary carrying that armor that the moment someone makes you feel at home... you drop your protection so fast you forget why you had it on in the first place.

And so I gladly let my guard down for you... not only did you make me feel at home, you were the first person to do so. so in addition to feeling tremendous comfort, I felt gratitude. Like I owed you for thinking of me without provocation, what I had been trying to convince the world of my entire life. And I valued that so much I would fight ferociously for it.

Walking around armorless was so scary, yet so liberating. It was the first time I could freely be my complete self with a person. But I feared everyday that it was a cruel joke, a lie, a ploy to get more out of me then I would hand over with my guard up. I was the bank teller you convinced to remove the bullet proof glass so you could see her better... but you were robbing the bank all along.

I think back to the time we spent and wonder what was the motivation for choosing me. You had many loves, near and far... old and new, why did you need me? After the first night we spent I wrote, pain I know, it's the love that's new. And I guess a part of me hoped if at anytime in our journey what you were feeling wasn't in line with what I was feeling, you'd excuse yourself before you'd hurt me. And what I realize now is, we were dealing with 2 issues. One was certainly a love that moved to fast, feelings too deep, too soon- that we tried desperately to slow down... and then the second issue of you just being dishonest.

And I was so mad. so hurt. so frustrated. so sick. because I'll never know if it was real for you... I'll only know how real it was for me. The running to the bathroom in the middle of dinner to cry. The stoic waking up in the morning. Wanting to die so I can watch your reaction from heaven. Writing letters to keep myself from calling. Reading your twitter to see if you're hurting like I am. Because, I can accept that we didn't work. That it was bad timing. Even that you or I made mistakes. But I can't fathom that you didn't really love me. That it was all a lie.

I haven't eaten a real meal in 5 days. And as angry as you made me, I finally have gotten to a point where I am not thrown into any intense emotion by your twitter. Not love, not hate, not jealousy, not sadness. I have accepted that I am alone in this heartbreak. I know you're making love to the mother of your child as I write this. And I'm nursing the wounds you left on my spirit. I know in time, I won't be up late nights weeping. And I'll be able to move on... but I think the fact is, I didn't want to with you.

I wanted this to work because I'm still in love with you. And I just knew after the last time, I would never fall for anyone who didn't love me back. But I did. And no friend or website or book of astrology has been able to make me feel better. I said pain I knew... well this is a different kind. It is new to me. Feels like everyday you try to hurt me more often, and on purpose. And the really sucky part is.... whether I'm wrong or right about your motives.... it works and I do.

I can only rely on the fact that if we were still together, you'd be sneaking out to talk to me on the phone, while they sleep. And as much I may think I want you... I don't want that, nor do I deserve it.

"i killed who she could've been"

2010-04-12T22:10:00.000-07:00

oprah had a show on child molesters. she interviewed a man who molested his younger relative from early childhood until he was 20 years old. she asked him what he did when he raped her.

he replied,

"i killed who she could have been."

i often think of all the things in this world that can destroy children. and i pray fervently for the ones in my life. it's amazing the pain the human body can endure... but it shouldn't have to.

i sometimes harbor the pain of others. not in a, i know what you're going through way, just a... I'm so sorry way. I think every being on this earth deserves love and peace and it hurts deeply to know there are innocent people who endure what they do.

if you're reading this, and you're in pain- i just wanted to say, i'm so sorry.

it is not your fault.

hello!

2010-04-12T22:06:00.001-07:00

i'd really like to follow your blog... can you share it with me?

on purpose

2010-04-12T21:13:00.000-07:00

i stumbled across a very interesting website called thesuicideproject. no, i'm not getting any crazy ideas, but i do often feel down. i deal with my depression by writing, but often times, i find it hard to write if i'm feeling down enough. this was a whirlwind of weeks, dealing with the loss of a relationship, a shitty job market, and general, wtf is my life about? how will i survive the next 20 years when i can't hold on to 1 thing that makes me happy? God is trying and testing me in ways I can't understand. Ways I don't know how to deal with other than being present... and if he is testing me i am at a loss because i have yet to find a way to act within his vision. he wants me to do something and i ain't moving yet.

i digress though. in all my confusion, and writers block, i look toward other writers to express feelings i can't or inspire thought life hasn't. the suicide project is a collection of suicide letters... some what you may think of as traditional, but many are really introspective looks at life and it's meaning or for some, lack thereof. One note read:

"I don’t know why I breathe now. Maybe its because of that so called survival mechanism or maybe its because I don’t want those few people who would actually care if I was dead (close family) to be sad. Still, I don’t want to exist in almost constant soul-crushing pain just so a few people can have the piece of mind that I still exist."

from NRTL #2

It's a common thread in many of these notes. the idea that the only thing keeping these people alive is the fear of hurting friends and family who would be destroyed by their absence. for a long time i thought love kept us alive. but no.... love plays a different role. human beings survive on purpose. love just makes us seek purpose from some more than others. at then end of the day, a person lives because they need to feel they have purpose. and with purpose comes duty, we have a duty not to disappoint, hurt or destroy those who give us purpose. our fear of breaking that trust keeps most of us alive when we feel everything else wants us dead.

it's why people who can't work are so miserable. jobs, careers, give us purpose. romantic relationships give us purpose. family gives us purpose. and that doesn't mean they give us anything else. not security, not freedom, not companionship. cause you get to that place alone. they aren't around when you're literally making a life or death decision, that happens at a table where only you and God can sit. but when you're in the darkest of places, and you are deciding that, often times the only safety you have is the thought that your child, or sibling, or parent, or boyfriend does not to deserve to feel like you do right then.

purpose is life. life is love. love is unselfish.

please protect this love...

2010-04-05T23:13:00.000-07:00

i.... don't know what to say.... other than.....

thank you.i'm sorry.i love you.god bless you.in time.please don't.soon.i can't.

someone tell ::lauryn:: i need her. i wanna be love(d).

wings.

2010-03-04T20:01:00.000-08:00

I know how it feels when the night demons come. We can’t let them control our hands and feet. Sometimes when it hurts so bad we have to just lay in the bed. Just lay in bed and don’t move Please, I know how it feels. I wish McQueen could have just been still. Don’t let the psychiatrists give you their drugs because it slows down your wings. Society and public opinion can beat the wings off of angels. When God sees they can’t take it anymore, he brings them home.

i live for you yé

2010-03-03T19:54:00.000-08:00

Even after all this time
the sun never says to the earth,
"You owe Me."

Look what happens with
a love like that,
it lights the Whole Sky.

-Hafiz

I know he don't like it, but I cried because... as smart as I am, I still have trouble processing that another human being is capable of loving me as much as I have the capacity to love him. And to hear him say it, over and over, was really overwhelming. Like, i remember hearing someone say, I was never in love with you. That felt like being punched in the chest so hard your wind got knocked out of you and then, just when you thought you caught your breathe... it still throbs. But hearing "I love you" meaningfully, and repeatedly- felt like the moments when I got my breath back. Intense... and maybe a little painful too. Not because it hurt to be alive, but cause being dead before was so excruciating. thank you for that.

picture paragraphs unloaded

2010-02-24T13:28:00.000-08:00

At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. No record of it needs to be kept and you don't need someone to share it with or tell it to. When that happens — that letting go — you let go because you can.

Toni Morrison.

on love.

2010-02-23T01:01:00.000-08:00

love is patient.

you held my hand as we waited
staring at a busy intersection,
the seconds ticking down on the crosswalk,
soon time would stop,
the cars would stand motionless,
and it would be our time.
distracted by the world surrounding us,
the grip you had on my palm
came as a surprise,
the only proof i had you were even there,
was the impression you left
across my skin
staring at this extremity,
i saw a long life,
and the red rings you left,
the throbbing from blood rushing to my fingertips,
put you in it-
if only for the moment we waited to cross.

love is kind.

the moment my perception went from yellow to red,
i felt it was time to let go,
even if i didn't feel safe,
i was accustomed to going alone,
assured that all i'd have left after these 30 seconds
was another 30 to walk on without you.
my sunshine would set,
and i'd navigate the darkness,
with two free hands.
having both allowed me to feel more.
but you help tighter,
and the impression you left on me,
sunk far deeper than the flesh.
for so long i felt i was stronger
for walking with two free hands,
when i finally realized that if I held yours,
i had three....
and i could conquer anything
that threatened my journey.
and with my new found vision,
i could see that I didn't have to run alone,
if we could walk together.
the world would have to wait for us.

love, is not self seeking.

we reached the other side of the street,
stronger than when our journey started,
still giving bits of ourselves
to hold on to our grasp,
I found that the support I got from our union,
the fist we formed,
if kept together could fight off any threat,
I offered my wrist
so we'd be more flexible,
my forearm so we'd be able to hit harder,
my elbow so we could lift each other up,
and my shoulder so we could hold each other.
all i ever hoped was that neither of us would let go.

love does not envy.

my desires included your happiness
and the more power i saw in us,
the more of you i wanted.
i began to fear walking alone
in the shadow of the power of our footsteps.
there is no love in fear.
i wanted from you
what only time could give
i saw different parts of the world
take your eyes,
grab at your ears,
possess your mind,
and suddenly-
your hand just didn't seem enough,
so focused on
holding one of your hands on our journey,
i never noticed
you used your other to hand me your heart.

love does not delight in evil.

we are imperfect
and often fail to see,
how wanting so badly to keep walking
hand in hand,
can hurt us.
instead of walking around adversity together,
fear sent us running in opposite directions.
we pulled each other toward misery
when our vision was to walk all along.
if i was looking with my heart,
i'd give you my hand willingly,
feel with one,
allow a part of me to be missing,
before i'd ever cause you any pain

love is enduring.

as we continue our walk,
we face insurmountable odds,
but what i will always appreciate,
is that after every obstacle,
after every block,
at each intersection,
i look toward our journey,
past the mountains and mole hills,
glance down at our hands
see past the scratches and bruises,
and see LOVE in their determination
to hold on.
like the fingerprints you left on me,
without once breaking my skin,

love, always protects.

in the past,
when life was too much
and I felt I could no longer give enough,
i believed fear kept me going.
too scared to end it all,
too wracked with guilt to disappear,
cowardice kept me alive.
and as i saw our love gasp for air,
i credited the fear of being alone
with fighting to save it.
but fear was not my saviour...
it did not drive me.
love, kept me.
love, kept us.

it. never. fails.

------------------
author's note: this piece was written as a companion to/extension of "on pain." so much has happened since that weekend but, in short... we're still holding hands.

"I allow myself to feel"

2010-02-15T20:48:00.000-08:00

I never watch Mo'nique's show but I think today God brought me to it. I watched Jill Scott come out to talk about her current projects. And she just looked so full of God's light that I hesitated at the sight of her happiness. Her afro looked so confident... her face so beautiful... her voice so rich. And Mo asks, how are you inspired to write your music?

She replied, "I allow myself to feel." and with just that sentence, I wept.

I think society, family, friends, and myself have taught me to do just the opposite. when I sink into an impossible state of depression, i'm supposed to put on a happy face. carry on. live. pretend that whatever devastating thing that has happened to me didn't because, feeling- is weakness. and i wish i would have allowed myself to feel more often.

to respond to people who expressed concern for my family that i didn't know if they were ok and i can't watch the news without throwing up from anxiety. or to tell my mother my grades were so shitty my first semester of law school because i was raped two weeks before it started and was too ashamed to tell anyone. to say to the world, behind this facade is a severely wounded woman who does not know how to feel. twitter says, tweet the most wonderful things about yourself and facebook says only tag the most beautiful pictures... because the world only wants to know us at our best selves.

i feel betrayed by someone who i felt was my sister. my first love, was never in love with me. my mother hates her life and constantly expresses regret. my father told her that my graduation pictures look nice because i don't look that dark. and i never really felt any of these things. i never said i bust my ass because i constantly feel like i am not good enough. not for that friend who chose someone else and not for that guy who loves someone else.

my horoscope said tomorrow is a new moon. and with that, i just want to feel. and if i can manage to FEEL my way out of whatever i'm going through, i wont just be here. i'll be present.

wearing this mask, is what i've been taught to do for so long, i forgot it's ok to take it off when i'm home. and wherever we live... blogsphere, twitter, DC, our own minds-- we each deserve to feel. it's the only thing that makes each of us human.

"i tell you, I know everybody’s in the same mess. I’m telling you. We all are. I know that, you know, and I’m just, you know, I’ll be the first to tell you, you know, I’m a mess and God is dealing with me everyday. And everyday I’m trying, you know, how I can be less of a mess. Cuz you know, he showed me, Look Lauryn, you know, You’re the problem, ok, I’m going to show you how you’re causing the problem, and now I want you to be the solution"

and who knows better than lauryn?

2/12/10

2010-02-12T13:11:00.001-08:00

I've been in love twice. Got my first boyfriend about 2 months ago. ten months away from 24, five months away from a law degree. i been waiting on him my whole life. to be in love, and have it reciprocated. to hold someone that wants to be held. to be there for someone who needs me. i feel like my entire life i had wonderful friends, loving family, a stellar career and beauty. i worked so hard at being beautiful inside cause i wasn't always beautiful outside and i knew there was no value in that. and finally- finally... i found him. and to this moment i believe when we were born God and fate drew us together. our bodies match, our faces match, our signs match, our futures match... we. just. fit.

and now i've reached a point where i feel that the Gods listened... gave me what i needed so badly, what i prayed for everyday.... and took away everything else. like an addict i got my drug and in the process, lost so much i held so dear. literally watched my country destroyed. dead bodies on street corners. my family.... homeless. listening to my parents weep every. night. hearing reports of more and more bodies found under the remnants of our family homes.

friends i have shared for years... dropping off like flies. and you reach a moment when you say... this. is. not. my. fault. but no one says the rest.... it doesn't matter whose fault it is.... it just plain hurts. it was the sacrifice of abraham... and i rather give my friendship up than see it cut in half. and while all this shit falls down the only shit left standing was us. and to be honest, it called into question everything i've ever thought about happiness. as much as i love him... love is never enough. it's a foundation to be built upon not the whole house. but for every brick we lay down there is someone ripping it away... and sometimes... it's us.

i suppose having everything is impossible... but next time, i know to pray for balance... cause i was never good at playing both sides.

on pain...

2009-09-08T23:44:00.000-07:00

I often attach my deepest emotions to pain. My life has been shaped by it, my identity formed in direct opposition to it, and my memories filled with it. For a woman who has accomplished so much, the one thing that has mattered the most, is the thing I believed was the source of my greatest failure: Love. It finally occurred to me that I was always a successful lover, just never been loved. I identify with pain, because in romance... it's all I know.

But like love, pain takes time to grow. To manifest. So you can imagine my surprise that this started that way... he whispered to me, that he was not trying to hurt me. And I said, good, if you could master never hurting me, that'd be perfect. So here we were inches apart... breathing deeply, in sync eyes locked and... it hurt. Hurt. Like I was 16 on a futon with Tupac playin in the background hurt. But he was distant, and I wanted him closer. And slowly, tentatively he pushed. I saw the concern in his eyes and I wanted to say, "baby, pain I can handle." In fact, I've grown to appreciate it... it's the love that's new. But all I could do was shake my head yes.

Oddly enough, it was the most comfortable moment of the weekend. I did not need to think about how to deal with pain. I do that everyday... and in fact, I was aroused by his. And I wanted to experience him in his entirety... especially the pain.

I felt him. He wanted me to SEE him. I was looking. He's one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen, so this was easy. But in order to truly look at someone... they have to look back at you. Everything you are watching in them they are watching in you. And just as he so desperately wanted me to see him, I wanted him to see me. But every time I've shared myself with someone, every time I've let someone watch my soul... they broke their stare because my eyes were to intense.

Still, here I am painting portraits of him in my mind. His form smoking in front of his kitchen window. His posture relaxed but alert... absorbing a certain understanding of the universe surrounding him. Marveling at his ability to literally hold me together in his sleep. Admiring the way the shape of his eyes change when he talks about his daughter. The amazing disappearing meal, the way he props his head up on his hand when he is really listening to what I have to say. Looking down at his hand entwined with mine while our footsteps and pavement form the background. At one point, as the cross walk warned red, I broke our stride in an effort to rush to the other side. He called for me to come back and kissed me. He said, they can wait for us.

I looked back... and saw him. No stage, no show, just him. I took that moment and bottled it up to take home. Didn't have a purse or pockets so I tucked it in my heart in the midst of all the pain... and somehow, it just fit.

I hope my moments can compete...

2009-08-23T22:18:00.001-07:00

this weekend could fit in my pocket. snuggled between four flights, two weekdays and one weekend on a piece of paper folded thrice so it would all fit. i tend to make small things huge, and huge things small. so that bbm he ignored was paramount, when four years of ignorance seemed a trifle. so this time, in 09, i had the chance to do things differently. this weekend, was small. just three days for us, one vacation day for him, four flights for me. it's one line in our story. he gets off of second shift in march, and he'll come to dc. or maybe february 19th will come and he'll decide he doesn't fit here. and he won't come. but that'll be ok, because i'll always have this weekend.

he calls me beautiful. and by dinnertime on friday, after I had gotten out of the shower, he told me i look better without the makeup. i disagreed, but decided not to wear any to dinner. i felt like the most beautiful woman in the room. he always opened the door. he asked if i wanted to go to the show. he watched slumdog millionaire. with me. and that didn't take 4 years. when we looked out the window and gazed at the city lights 17 stories down he whispered, "ya'll don't appreciate us." I said, "who? women don't appreciate men?" he said, "no, ya'll civilians don't appreciate us linemen and journeymen.. look at all them lights we take care of." i laughed one of the many laughs of the weekend. he asked why i liked an average man like him. his voice rattled my trunk. i replied, because you are a man. he says i'm gonna be a big time lawyer and i'm gonna marry a big time ball player or a doctor or a lawyer... not a working man like him.

he said it like he wanted the best for me, but i was from a world too different than his own for him to give it to me himself. saturday i turned away from him i cried while he was watching the 300. not many tears. not really sad. just feeling too much in this small episode of my life. he said i smile at him like his mother does and it makes him blush. i figured it was the least i could do. if i never see him again, i'll always have this weekend. i haven't felt this beautiful or special in a long time, and if it's just for 2 or 3 days that i will, i'll take that. and i'll love it.

when i landed at bwi, i changed his ringtone to "hello." i haven't heard it ring yet but, he texted to see if i landed ok.

2009-08-23T22:15:00.000-07:00

a whole month since I posted something new :( Pitiful! This week I will thrust you guys into sensory overload with some of my favorite old pieces and a new project I want ya'll to try!

xx

Jo

liberdad

2009-07-29T16:16:00.000-07:00

me:i am working on something very exciting

Ruck: ah...i can feel it!

me: Do you think as a writer, you can write about something completely foreign to you?

and it be good

Ruck: a question first...is anything, topic, experience, emotion foreign?

3:00 PM me: yes yes!

that's what i'm exploring!

if we try to write about these things

will we see more humanity?

3:01 PM Ruck: i think life is interconnected. our knowlege or experiences related to issues, emotions, etc. vary, but i dont think anything is foreign...

3:02 PM i think you should go for it. there are always gradations...explore those and the nuances.

3:03 PM me: yes yes I am I will

I hope I can do it justice

Ruck: you will.

Now I ask you readers... did I?

Tonight we stayed in,
laying in my basement apartment
the sound of the rain
mimicking the footsteps
just above us.
If we listen closely we can hear the wind whisper
sweet nothings into our window panes
the fog makes visibility difficult,
so tonight there is no need to close the curtains.
The light peaking from the bathroom
eclipses the darkness outdoors
just enough to keep the shadows of passersby
dancing across our skin
something about the mood
is warm.
ice chips melt in the salt settled along
my tongue from the heat in the room
the center of my chest shines
from the perspiration not quite intense enough
to form beads.
and just inches away from me
I can feel your thoughts
rising and falling with every breath you take.
when you exhale
i feel the air from your lips
dance across my eyelids
each time you speak,
your voice echoes, booms,
beats...
and a steady baseline
runs down my spine.
Something about the mood,
is warm
like the spot between
your chin and your neck
i kiss you softly there,
lips slightly parted,
moist-
warm.
i feel your fingertips
tapping at my thoughts,
understanding...
gripping them effortlessly
opening your mouth to tell me
you're thinking the same thing
feeding me the last bit of chill in the room
just before it melts
my hair intertwined in your french tips
and you taking the words out of my mouth
slowly,
the texture of your taste buds
grabs each moan, protest, hesitation
and swallows them
digesting any doubts.
I run my finger across your collar bone
admire the richness of your skin
marvel at the bareness of your chest.
as each wall comes down,
i begin to see you take shape
there is beauty in the lithe rotundness of your form
and nervous and excited energy
nibble where there is meat
biting just hard enough
for us to hear the steel
tapping against my teeth.
she speaks...
stand up, i want to see you.
her eyes look through me,
small hands
slide up my legs,
cup my bottom
and peel away the fabric separating us.
I can feel the heat from my pores
warm her palms
she hums across the small of my back
I am ready.
i return with curious hands,
sit her down for questioning...
gently part her point of prayer
and lay my cheek
just on the inside of her thigh
I stop
I want to remember this scent.
I suck my index finger
and slowly beckon her center
I whisper,
I want to make you come.
back arched,
protracted-
one hundred eighty degrees
perfection requires balance
and i find myself nestled equally
between multiple pairs...
Something about the mood,
is warm...

[to be continued]

keep or be kept.

2009-07-22T21:46:00.000-07:00

It's crazy how someone can say something and it just sticks. It makes sense, it hits home, it's on point. And not in that general sense (which is always good) but that one line that just makes so many things crystal clear. So, on twitter, Chevy_Pender tweets the block quote below. I copy/paste it. It stays at the top of a word document for a long long time. For one, I can't create poetry on a computer, only edit. So my next pieces will be better now that I have some damn paper. But two, I knew what I wanted to say... the how was proving difficult. So I sort of let instinct have it's way. And this is how it went...

Hate in your heart is like self-imprisonment,
when you let it go, it lets you go...

Some days I wake up confined…
My feelings not my own,
My despair uncontrolled
And you in control of my slumber-
Taunting me.
And every thought in between
The dark colors and stings
Is what would it be like to be free?
Couldn’t fathom just being me
So I’m stuck waking up
Like huh? What the fuck?
When did this begin defining me?
despising me?
Speaking so sweetly-
But having no meaning
And I pause to ask myself-
Who’s really doing the keeping?
When you’re around I’m at my worst
Going to bed, never sleeping
Always crying, never weeping
End up starving from overeating.
Imprisoned by this body
Told when to eat, shit, and think and
I’m too strong to be incarcerated for being weak and
if I just close my eyes I could sleep and
If it’d let me go I could think and-
Not sure of where to place the blame
But my hate for you has driven me insane
When it was in walking distance all along
I could stroll and lose my mind cuz you wrong
If I’m strong enough to find it when you gone
Before you divide it,
Before love and hate collided
And I became my own warden
Too scared to think outside the box
I locked myself into you
Forgetting that Love. Is. Key.
It’s the only ingredient in freedom
And is a dish best served warm,
With sincerity…
Your grip once held tightly to me
It just took another look for me to see
If I opened my arms wide enough for you to fit between,
You’d slip right out of my hands...
and there ain't no holding on to
something you can't grasp...
and no need to question if you cant ask
strength is about how much you can carry
but resilience is about how much you can let go
get free from the get go
love. is. key.

4 play

2009-07-22T17:33:00.000-07:00

I used to date a guy...

I only wish I could meet you tomorrow
so we could spend one more dream together...
When my sunshine's inside, put me under the weather
no Robitussin, just robes and tusslin,
tossin and turnin, missin and yearning
call me anything new under the sun...
I've already been done,
been one, it's been fun

...and this is how we'd flirt

Sowy

2009-07-22T17:29:00.000-07:00

Ok I've been writing like a mad woman but I've been loving it... and as a writer I have the moments where what I write needs to be released right away- and then some moments where it just ain't ready. Then there's this issue of October. I'm tryin to feature at this spot and some shit I been writing, I don't want to hit anyone's ears until that night!!

Keeping the goodies from you is TORTURE. But I have promised sooo much and not delivered in over a week. I also have contracted Swine Flu in London so that may give you some indication of the hold up but shit... If I must be in bed- let it be with pen in hand.

xx

Single anyone?

2009-07-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

Still no internet! But here is what I could quickly type/copy/paste. Hopefully tomorrow we can get to the meat of things! Love ya'll and thanks for your tremendous patience.

xoxo

I’m just about my only single friend left. It seems relationships are perpetually around me. Usually my energy would be completely negative right now but I’m so fuckin happy. Not that fake I’m happy, where you smile around your friends and cry yourself to sleep at night. Nope. This positive energy is genuine. It is born because I have finally accepted my being single. I have given my happiness priority over my pain. I have too much going on to think about being single. WOW. THAT is a first. The more I find myself drifting from concern over my relationship status, the more I drift from caring about the people who avoided a relationship. I have never had a committed, long-term relationship as an adult. Had a boyfriend when I was 16 who cheated on me the entire time. And one in college I used to make the guy I wanted to be with jealous. It was long distance. It was superficial. I wasn’t committed. And now, years later, I have found comfort in my virginity. I don’t know what it means to be with someone for a year, or to have sex with the same person consistently for more than 3 months at a time.

But what I do know, is that, I have monk like qualities when it comes to sex. My body can sustain itself for months at a time. I never need to FIND someone to have sex with. I can have sex with myself. I do so very freely, and am very open about that. If you’re with a woman who doesn’t have sex with herself, you’re not with a woman.

Beyond the sex, I’m unaffected by the infatuation that clouds judgment in new relationships. I know the butterflies well. I know the rerecording of voicemails to make sure you don’t sound too excited. I know the 200 hits to their facebook a day. The memorizing pictures. When everything they say is the most adorable and hilarious thing you’ve heard. When you drift off in thought about them. Try to remember every story. Try to informally record all mildly significant moments in your lives together. And I know how much of that fades three months later. And if somewhere between the fantasy you were able to capture the true essence of that person; measure their ability to make you smile, to cheer you up and on, and to generally be present in your life in mind and spirit- then, maybe you got something.

I have good practice with the reality. Not so much with the remainder. But I’m here. And single. And happy. Content that what I have to offer is more than a lot of men can recognize. Thankfully, I’ve been single long enough to know that I can wait a little longer, stay a little lonlier And further, relishing in the fact that I’m a relationship virgin. And we all know how much men love virgins ;)

pause.

2009-07-12T14:09:00.000-07:00

I'm at an internet cafe cause I been unable to access internet all weekend. But, I don't break promises so FOUR pieces are coming for that ass... Monday evening! Food for thought until then:

I asked God to help me understand a boy,
instead he introduced me to a man.

on lies

2009-07-09T20:13:00.000-07:00

it is said that a man's love is life and a woman's life is love. well i'd agree. nothing i love more than the feeling of being in love. and now, that i am truly single, and no longer in pursuit of the man i once loved, i find myself missing even the destructive moments. the tears, the arguments, the long emails- because they had been a part of me for so long. i miss the drama, i'm convinced it made my writing better, because there is beauty in pain. and now i feel cloud nine tickling my feet, things are so much clearer and the writing is not as raw. not necessarily a reality i want to change, but one i want to acknowledge.

so if a woman's life is love, then her life should include a love of manifestations of love, including sex. i believe women love sex more than men. we do not want it as much because you are usually not good at it. yes, even you... WE FAKED IT! women masturbate more then men, because you see, men tend to do it when they can't get any. We do it regardless. and she may say she doesn't, but she either does or wants to.

I think relationships end up so fucked because everybody's lying. if you are with a woman who climaxes everytime, she is lying. she wants your love. committment, attention, affection- and oral sex.... make her climax. that pumpin shit rarely gets her anywhere ('cept for a couple good days in 06) but if she came, she made it happen, not you. so before you pat yourself on the back, really think back to your experience and ask yourself, did i do all i could? anyless than your best, and you can guarantee she faked it. More than half of it is mental, I could do my taxes while you pumped till your appendix burst. but we won't tell you that- nope. we lyin to feed your ego cause you need to feel irreplacable to love. well my brother, my index finger alone has done more damage than you.

the next time i have sex it'll last for 2 days. and when you don't get it right the first time, i'll grab your hand and we'll do it again. we will watch jada, we will touch each other slowly and deeply. you will concentrate on stimulating all of my senses. and if we can't make love, we can make truth.

mmmm...

any way the wind blows...

2009-07-07T19:53:00.000-07:00

did an exercise where I built a piece around the first line I came up with... helps ease a lot of writer's block for me because everyday I come up with many bits and pieces, but an entire work takes a few days. unless it just comes... that's amazing to watch and that could take a couple hours.

she's barely tall enough to meet your shoulders
it's how you know she has your back
and some how her small frame
manages to play home to a heart
bigger than your emotions can imagine
so you question her authenticity
she's only human though, so
instead of trying to determine your capacity
for all of her love
she keeps swaying the leaves
so you know the wind blows
not quite able to think critically
you criticize her efforts,
chastise her tropical storm for being too much
while she huffs and she puffs
till she turns herself blue
tryna prove to you
some shit you don't have the ability to understand.
convinced that you just needed to see
it's tremendous size and capability
and miraculously you'd agree
she was what you needed all along
and the powerful gusts of wind
born of her deep breathing
hit you with force you never seen
she was a category three
and you kept looking back
so she kept building speed
fearful of actually getting the love you need
you took refuge under
a dilapidated covering
one that had been hovering around your weakness
because it looked familiar
and now the both of you are exposed
and even with two hearts and two souls
you couldn't understand her role
because you don't know love enough
you prefer to keep things rough
so you remain untouched
push her hundreds of miles away, develop mistrust,
and when shes blown to bust,
- all is quiet on your front
no one has your back,
and you realize she was always what you wanted.
by then it'll be too late,
the damage too great
her heart and lungs have forgotten what love was, what was such,
an exhausting experience
and now you're addicted
no longer conflicted
because instead of trusting the leaves
you had to leave to see
that somehow many fish
could still make an empty sea
and
every time you hear the rattling of leaves
you think that maybe she
is back to prove her love
and it will be many hurricane seasons before you realize...
it's your turn to blow.

inspiration.

2009-07-07T15:38:00.000-07:00

the title of the blog is inspired by lauryn hill's "conform to love." it's a song about doing more than loving, about being love. so much of my writing is inspired by her honesty. her insanity. her talent. and her freedom. i love righteousbabygirls.blogspot.com dearly. it is and will always be a part of my writing experience and comedic talents, but i wanted to create a space defined by freedom. my words- poems, essays, prose that you've heard or haven't. I'll dig in the crates for classics ya'll wanted copies of that never got to you. All I ask in return is that you share your thoughts and feelings about the work!

Everyday people approach me about how that piece i did at ____(insert dc locale here)___ meant so much, influenced their decisions, reflected feelings they couldn't verbalize... and i always wish i could've heard it there in that moment. i also ask that if you reprint/copy/repost you give credit to the author and this blog. and most importantly! communicate with me, ask me questions, make requests! some of my best work was commissioned.

random but being on twitter has broken down so many walls that i had no part in putting up. many created from fear or misconception. like lauryn says everybody is going through the same shit. i only believe in 2 emotions, love and fear... i hope ya'll choose love and join me on my mission to write a piece for the next 30 days. trying to push myself further than i ever have. the parable of the talents and recent events have ordained it. no room for fear in freedom!

xx

-JB

enjoy!

tragedy or triumph?

2009-07-07T14:46:00.000-07:00

something about michael jackson's death reminds me of the election of barack obama. both monumental moments in recent history. and in both instances i saw humanity. people across the world seemed to fall silent because no words quite expressed the sheer reverance that overwhelmed us. but in great tragedy, as in great triumph, we find ourselves re-evaluating our personal relationships and performing a sort of emotional inventory- asking whether or not we loved enough, gave enough, tried enough. and quiet as it is kept, tragedy and triumph affect us so deeply because we often realize that after performing that inventory, some shit is missing.

we regret that we didn't study harder, work longer, or dedicate ourselves more- because we really could have been more like barack. we regret that we don't tell our loved ones we love them enough because of the sudden and untimely passing of many of our heroes. but if after a few days, after the dust has settled, we go back to the same way we were before, what have we learned? what has changed?

advising people to tell loved ones they loved them is admirable, but if everyday, you go through life knowingly treating someone with disrespect, hurting them, and lying to them, then what do your words mean? i keep finding people who harbor anger, get upset, at how people treat them or what people have done to them without ever pausing for a second to think that what they put into the universe they get out of the universe. and how many people must fail you before you do that inventory check and realize it is you who is failing.

we admire mike we admire barack, we are invigorated by the possibilities after seeing just how unbelievable the universe can be. but if after the memorial goes off, or after the election takes place you haven't forced yourself beyond your comforts, then why even exaggerate your lament at all. it's easy to tell someone you love you love them. try apologizing to someone you know you hurt, forgiving someone you know hurt you, thinking of ways to live your life that reflect the goodness of michael's spirit. defending causes that will change the way evil operates. embrace change. that may be the one drake lyric i have to respectfully disagree with. niggas always wanna remain the same... but if you the same muthafucka you been the past five, ten, fifteen years no wonder you find yourself constantly questioning the people around you.

people who influence the world are never static characters... everyday they grow and change and learn. what true love is, is loving someone through the difference. so as we all remember the dynamism that was embodied by michael, i hope we don't forget the dynamism within ourselves. and for once, be so moved by tragedy or triumph that we actually have the courage to change something about ourselves. and then, maybe later, something about the world.

capiche.

2009-07-07T13:26:00.000-07:00

one of my latest and most favorite pieces. sometimes you write shit and you make yourself pause cause penning it was an out of body experience. well that's what happened here. hard to look at yourself so openly and honestly. hope you enjoy.

He doesn't understand. 
He's a smart man, but-
he doesn't understand 
doesn't understand, can't comprehend 
Why I want him to be my man. 
How do I convince him that he can? 
That he's capable, more than able- 
to satisfy what I desire. 
He's a man with vision 
but can't see the scars across my chest, 
where a rapist grabbed my breasts 
where I let men rest 
who could care less  about. me. 
he's a brilliant man, but he can't understand 
how ignoring my calls
 makes me feel small 
like less than,
 not equal to, 
not me and you- 
he's a diligent man, 
but he never researched me
 never looked me up beyond the maybelline
 I may be lean, but my heart. is. heavy.
 I am the definition of forgotten 
he remembers my bed, remembers my head
 but it slips his mind to see if I'm okay
 He doesn't see how taking me out once a week
 makes me feel disposable 
late nights he recycles me 
uses me over and over to reach his peak
 and gets so high 
he can't see the mountain on his shoulders breaking me 
his friends know everything about him --but they don't know me 
which leads me to believe 
that he doesn't think I am about him. 
around him can't surround him. 
with anything. but. my. body. 
and he's an intelligent man 
but he can't read my biography
 he doesn't know I have a history
 of dealing with men who only appreciate me 
after. 3 am. 
I have a father and I am ashamed 
to tell him that his daughter 
has let a man depress her-  neglect her-  forget. her. 
not remember to respect her. 
i am just a useful tool. 
a screwdriver. 
your screw drives her-- to make better mistakes. 
He's a smart man
 but he refuses to see 
how his behavior reflects SHE-- his daughter, 
the girl who calls him father. 
he's a wise man 
but too shallow to see
 how deep his behavior reaches. 
one day a man will leave her beaten. cheated. 
treated like meat and- 
he'll disconnect the pieces 
of our broken hearts
 he won't see it. won't see him. 
himself in the selfish bastard 
who broke his baby's heart. 
you know where it ends, 
but I know where it starts
 my dad broke my heart years before it beat 
and her dad would break mine before she'd ever speak.
 and she's a smart girl but,
 when it comes to he- she doesn't think
 doesn't weep, doesn't see... how she repeats 
like a scratched cd
before giving up and skipping to the next song...
And how many tracks will I leave behind
Before someone worthy finds me
And stops. Pressing. Play.
Ejects the mistakes my father made
Fasts forward to what will be his daughter’s pain
If only those visits to the gym
Made you strong enough to eradicate
The behaviors that made you this way.
And after all this time I don’t see results,
Don’t have a membership,
I just remember shit
Like the many times and the many things
You put before getting to know me
Not the bottom half,
But the whole me,
How Everclear reality is now,
It still stings going down
And it’s a hard pill to swallow,
But I’m a tough act to follow
And I almost dare you to find
A woman whose heart is as big as mine
Who is as willing to take the time
To deal with your emotional unavailability
You think I want to be before anything
I just don’t want to be after everything
Why can’t we just be... together
My mama used to say
If you’re too ashamed to introduce him to me
He’s not fit to be a part of your life
And I wish she wasn’t right
But when she asks about you, I lie,
I try, to deny that just like her I lie
Night after night in denial
Telling myself in time
Daddy will come home
And just like me
She wonders why
Every man in her life seems to be a failure,
To fail her,
To nail her to a cross roads
Somewhere in between love and giving up
Between giving her all and not giving a fuck
And I’m my father’s daughter
So if there is one thing I can understand,
I can understand, I do comprehend
That if he can’t hear me scream,
Then maybe it’s time to whisper
To ordain that the pain that encompasses me
Will miss her
My daughter
Who WILL have a loving father whose past won’t come back to haunt her
Who WILL be nothing like her mother,
Who WILL be far stronger
I won’t worry about her...
She will be ok.......
I know cause my mother ordained the same.

an ode to the district.

2009-07-07T11:51:00.000-07:00

i've lived in DC for over 4 years now and if there is one thing i can say about this place, it is that for it to be so small, it is packed with some of the most beautiful history i have ever studied. i hope that my dc natives and transplants alike can appreciate this work and i hope it is an appropriate expression of the power that lies within these 8 wards. In honor of Emancipation Day I presented this to community partners at OneDC.

The only thing constant in the world,
Is change.
That’s why today I take life as it comes.

In the District of competition,
Where there isn’t always clear vision,
We rely on superstition
To explain the broken reflection of ourselves
Confused because our worlds don’t mirror
The presidential picture
And if you happen to be the Natasha
Whose last name ain’t Obama
You may begin to wonder if you’re in the frame at all
Constantly left to fend(ty) for herself
This poor little DC girl
Has had to forward her mail every year of her life
May your mayor make her a priority
Realize she’s the majority,
Skip the presidential tea parties,
To save the girl stuck in a rut between Good hope, and Kings dreams.
Writing letters from a Birmingham jail, in her cell on Alabama avenue.
If only he could see what D sees,
That behind Florida’s palm trees,
Beside the capitol lettering,
There are lower cases of affordable housing
Where we forgot that we,
Were supposed to be,
Lifting up our hearts.
If we could see what D sees,
Fight against the patriarchy,
Count the number of students at Gonzaga high
With sursum corda residency.
Watch the faces on the 90 change 180 degrees
Cause those on the S2 said FU,
The Hill’s in Southeast
And I signed my lease
And the landlord said it wouldn’t be that bad
Cause all the culture that it used to have
Fits nice and compact
Into Sundays farmer’s market.
Where Monday’s beggar plays jazz.
If only we could see what D sees….
That you street, ben’s chili and the naacp
Used to belong to her
But the pronoun has attached itself to someone else
And now there’s a bistro where she used to shoot free throws
A café where she danced ballet
And that low class liquor store is no more
It’s a wine bar now.
And now we have two memorials along the corridor
Both reminders of a civil war
That left black faces to be remembered
So long as we don’t forget,
our number of completion is eight
and the freed slaves who paved way,
are rolling in their graves today
cause the noise created by the freeway and suitland parkway
keeps them up at night
listening to others make plans to decimate
the community they purposely neglected in the first place
But if only they could see what D sees
That she is capable of creating wizardry
She is the same D, that allowed Nannie Helen B
Suburban Gardens, and H.D.
To coexist peacefully
The same D that gave Amtrak Ivy city
And though she don’t get much in return…
she returns some of the greatest black leaders of our time.
The history that D has seen,
Will always triumph over the misery
That attacks her self esteem.
It is freedom that wipes her clean.
The only thing, constant in our world is change.
And the only way to understand our future
Is to recognize our past
If we could see what D sees,
We’d hold on dearly to our city.
In the name of Anna J. Cooper
And William Birney,
I pray that one day we can all see,
What D sees.

on michael...

2009-07-07T11:34:00.000-07:00

It is now I see and feel that calling once again,
to be a part of music that will not just connect,
but make all feel one- one in joy, one in pain, one in love.
one in service and in consciousness. ---Michael Joseph Jackson

it is usually said that it's better late than never, but if ever there was a time to disprove everything we think we know... this is it. truthfully I woulda preferred to never have had to write this, late or otherwise. but alas we are here. took a while because i put myself in exile for 20 days and 20 nights and because for a woman who has never stopped talking- i had nothing appropriate enough to say.

in a conversation with mr. crawford last night, he said, 'hate is the new love.' a phrase i been using but never really heard it explained quite the way he did. he said, in the days of Michael, Whitney, etc... it was always about love. I need love. I want love. I will always love you. they were driven by it. and now, music, musicians are fueled by hate. You can hate me now. To all the hataz. I do it for the hataz. we are defined by how many people hate us, rather than by how many loved us. so that is why i build my itunes backwards.

5 days ago though, we loved like we did in the 80s. three generations remembered the time when we first met- LOVE. my six year old niece asked about smooth criminal- my favorite MJ video. we remembered my brother's MJ dancing party service-- they did a routine at my sister's sweet 16 and everyone else's parties, talent shows, etc. My father said he couldn't sleep after finding out. And me? In the middle of the dance floor at cafe iguanas... i took his advice. laid my 9-5 on the shelf... and LIVED. thought it started raining, but it was just my tears.

6/30/09 via righteousbabygirls.blogspot.com (my home blog)

inches.

2009-07-07T11:17:00.000-07:00

at night i watch you sleep
and to my surprise, when you open your eyes,
i still don't break my stare.
i'm here, you're there, and the years between us
are now just inches of heavy breathing
i listen to you speaking
each breath has me remembering
in our pasts i saw a future and
i adore you so confidently
i often struggle with what to do between
respirations.
you are my reparation
everything i get back from years of degradation
unappreciation, misappropriation of love.
now I am free.
to gaze at the man God made me for
the one God saved me for
i keep imagining
a different way to tell you i love you
but none of the words ever seem to be enough...
the I can't describe who I was when we met
and who i'll be when we separate long enough to go on to our next lives.
the you doesn't begin to reflect the many faces i've grown accustomed to
despite all the things we've been through,
the one i remember best is your smile.
and love...
love will never be enough cause it'll always be between us
and i won't separate our destiny
your strides are so big because you walked across galaxies to get to me
you fill my cup- you're only bringing out the best in me
and when i stretch across jupiter to hold your hand
i'm only showing my flexibility
my ability
to deal with irregularity
knowing if i were situated similarly
you'd be right there with me
illuminating my celestial body
hop scotching across coma berenices
-you carry my burdens and place them among the stars
my constellation prize
you reward me for just being here
i was Ayyub in my past life
and light years later
i finally understand
that despite my beginning
i shall enjoy my end
and appreciate the faith you restored it with
at night you watch me sleep...
and to my surprise when I open my eyes
you still don't break your stare...
you're there, i'm here
and the light years between us
are now just inches.of.heavy.breathing

word play

2009-07-07T11:15:00.000-07:00

I don't have a way with words
but if I could have my way with words,
I'd make sure that you and I are never in between Q and T
always connected to you and me
forever on opposite ends of unity
so we can bring together what seems to be
the most opposite of similarities
when two eyes see you and I they look quizzically
it took the third eye in you to see, the individual in me
the you and I in revolutionary,
the you in us
the you and me in what they presume to be...
run of the mill, when we’re one in a mill
... the you, me, and us in my muse
the you in Euterpe, the I in Calliope
no you no me in tragedy…
takes two eyes from two minds to inspire
another shade of Blue,
another word for you,
another place for me
another stage for us
and I don’t have a way with words
but if I could have my way with words…
I’d make forever modify your happiness,
Restructure your sentence
So you don’t serve life
In this homophobic, germaphobic, lovaphobic cell,
And strike every passive voice that emits
From the fruit of your lips
Cause Miss, the English language, would be remiss
Without you….
Without 21, there can be no 22,
And an alphabet from A to T
Don’t make no damn sense to me….
And I don’t have a way with words
But if I could have my way with words
I’d use them as a sword to protect your smile,
Cause I see me in it…
I’d sow into our music,
Cause I see us in it…
I’d puff an L, to change the world, word?
Cause I see must in it
I’d get drowsy imagining the possibility in why…
Takes a third eye to see two G’s
Which is why there’s only one in judgment
And I don’t have a way with words,
But if I had my way with words I’d tell you…
Between you and I… no evol,
I love you…
Love.
No drums. No dreds. No incense.
No nappy ass beard. No talking like I’m weird.
This comes from my innocence…
Addressed to your inner sense
Wish this had a transcript
Cause I don’t have a way with words
But if I could have my way with words
I’d just say…
"Sista, you’ve been on- my- mind
Sista we’re two of a kind
So sister, I’m keeping my eyes on you...."

the miseducation part 1

2009-07-07T11:05:00.000-07:00

Lauryn Hill is gifted. To put it simply, she may be one of the most brilliant writers and musicians of our time. The only thing inhibiting her success in the mainstream is her change from the commercial Lauryn we all know and love to the "psycho babble" Lauryn we feared and misunderstood... but little did you all know, my girl was always ahead of her time, you just weren't paying attention... "And even after all my logic and my theory, I ADD a muthafucker so you ignorant niggas hear me." That being said, Lauryn and I have always been kindred spirits. Poet to poet, brown skin to brown skin, love of the classics (Carter G. Woodson), and... our absence from school the day LOVE was taught.

I hate writing poems about love... well the ones about heartbreak and being in love and all that ..stuff. However, some stuff just needs to be said ya know? I remember a few years ago, I wrote a poem that went "Black Love is Black wealth and damnit... I'm rich bitch!!!" Well today, I can declare I am not only broke.. but in debt. The poem went on to discuss the beautiful examples of love I had seen on TV or read about in books. No mention of my parents or my sister or my cousin... nothing. I don't have many examples to go by. And even if I did... eating a bunch of brownies and cakes doesn't make a great baker. The bottom line is I don't understand love and to be perfectly honest... I never have.

My first love was Tupac Shakur. Eight years old I was listening to his music religiously and memorizing the lyrics, wearing his shirts, dubbing tapes aaaah, the good old days. My elementary and middle school friends should remember MsShakur4life... the coolest screen name ever! Haha. Some should remember a rainy September 13th, candles and a Ouija board. Torn between life and death, I remember my parents being concerned about what they deemed my obsession but shit... it was love. Love. My first love. There wasn't a man on this earth that could say I loved him before I loved Pac.

That was until Keenan. I was in love with a celebrity for so long loving a person I could touch was unreal. I still didn't understand love so I didn't have any demands of it. I just needed to be touched. I don't even mean in the sexual sense... In the sense that, if I could touch him, it meant he was real... it meant the love was real. He was my BOYFRIEND. I enjoyed just saying the word. He thought I was smart and pretty. I was amazed... but I didn't know shit about love. I knew that Keenan loved... a lot. A lot of women. He apologized. Over and over again. But it wasn't until I was 2,000 miles away and received news of twins (that weren't mine) I finally understood what love wasn't. Still meant I didn't understand what it was either.

Love is enduring. I started to love whoever. I threw the word around like a football and there are boyfriends in between Pac and Keenan and him that thought I loved them. But I was playing the game. What's the harm in telling a guy you love them cause you like them?? Well... it's a lie for starters :)

But then there was Him. God. I love him like I love oxygen. And in my love of him... I began to love ANOTHER. But loving someone doesn't make them love you. I found that in loving him I learned a lot about loving myself. You know when you love someone so much you get frustrated because you can't even fix your lips to express it? Or when their actions hurt you so much you are literally sick to your stomach? Somedays I can't breath at the thought of life without them... Love is kind yes but it can hurt like a bitch sometimes too. I love this man so much I refuse to call him my "other half" because, if I have learned anything about love it's that you can't count on someone to make up your half. I love him so much I worked damn hard to make myself whole so the both of us as wholes can compliment each other. I love him so much I smile if I think he's happy. The crazy thing about love is that it can take you to the top... and to the bottom.

So here I am in love... but in debt. and tears. I have been taking some remedial courses on it and I figured that I better stick to loving the Big Him... cause he has all the answers I need. And I keep tryna figure out shit but it ain't meant for me to know. I still love him... the human him, and he hurts me and it hurts me BUT... I pray for strength and healing. strength and healing. strength and healing. *Shaking my head* Love... and strength and healing.

So if you are sitting here and actually read through all of this and find that you have somehow been Miseducated.... take time to go back to school. If you love somebody (specially the fellas) act like it... tell her... show her. She is dying to hear it. But be honest about your feelings cause if you keep waiting until things are just right... you'll miss out on a happiness you've never imagined.

**Striving for perfect attendance**
JPB

"Let me tell you somethin... This here.. right now.. at this very moment... is all that matters to me. I love you. And that's urgent like a motherfucker."

4/6/07

Death is never about dying

2009-07-07T10:56:00.000-07:00

I got serenity tattooed on my wrist, so I could remember peace in my darkest hour. When it throbs I know it's a reminder of peace in life. Reminds me to calm myself. A mark of the flesh as a reminder to thrive in the spirit. My flesh doesn't mean much to me. I can tell in the way I treat it... but my spirit! Aaaah. God breathes life into my spirit and I cannot mistreat that. No matter how hard I try. But my flesh must die for me to live in the spirit. And you see... you who are my enemy are actually my savior.

They tell you to love your enemy but I am in love with my enemy. He hates me. He hates the way I love, the way I think, the way I act. In his eyes I'm only flesh but see, when I look at him... I see his spirit. I'm sorry for well, the days I thought in terms of flesh. But for the days I thought in the spirit.... well those were the best days of my life. I imagined a day that he would love my spirit but in a year and a half that day has yet to come. It is so easy to get caught up in the flesh. In all that is around you. We forget our partners in spirit who didn't lust after our flesh. The ones who knew our middle names (or lack there of :)) or who loved our mothers for making us. Who were proud of us. Who were happy to see us. Who were honest with us.

I always loved your spirit. Whether you'll believe it or not... cold rain has a way of telling the flesh a lot about the spririt.

But you know, God has been moving in me in miraculous ways. He told me my flesh would have to die in order for spirit to live. I had to release the pain in my flesh for the freedom of my spririt. All this time I kept wondering why I loved you. It was because you you were my enemy. You would betray me. I needed you to. You see you don't know how to lov anyone living. I have to die for you to ever love to me. You wanted to love me so badly you hated me to death. You could kill my flesh but you could never take my spirit's will to live.

Romans 8:13 says "Through the spirit, heal your flesh, you will live, prosper. The words I speak are spirit." I can kill my flesh with the word. In this case you words were, "so, bye." Wrenched with indifference. I felt meaningless but I started to understand that this had to happen. I had to be betrayed, had to be dismissed so I could live.

As I sat in the cold rain dying I finally understood the purpose. When I approached God with an open heart... once I satisfied his love he didn't deny me. I prayed for everthing I experienced. I prayed to be killed.

I prayed to die. I prayed for this because I prayed for my spirit. I prayed for you to kill me without taking my will to live. You can't have that.

I think back to my freshman year of highschool when my mother kept saying how much she wanted a doctor in the family. So as I sat in all of my math and science courses writing compositions, and then told people I would become a plastic surgeon.. I gave up. My mother or anyone else could not make me into a person I wasn't. I was apologetic, I meant well when I lied about my interest in medicine. But i was not that person. And when I think about you... I love you because you are me. There are a world of people asking you to be someone you are not. You may have the ability to be... but you are not.

I wanted you to be a man you couldn't be. One my flesh wanted so badly it ignored what my spirit made clear. No one has ever required anything else of you. The success of your flesh meant you could ignore everything else around you because your success in flesh was enough. You don't have to call, we'll call you... you don't have to care, we'll care for you... you don't have to work, we'll work for you... you don't have to love, we'll love you...

Damn I loved you spirit so much I wanted you to be a doctor when you couldn't be. You didn't know how. So you did what you knew how to do. Love the flesh. Now that you have killed me, my flesh is dead. All that's left is my spirit and you don't know how to love that. So when you hit me with the "bye" I finally understood. Bye is forever. Say goodbye to my flesh... I am dead to you.

R.I.P. Jordyne Persephone B.

In Search of my Mother's Garden

2009-07-07T10:48:00.000-07:00

I shared an excerpt from Alice Walker's "In Search of my Mother's Garden" with my students last week.

I read this to my tenth graders and we discussed the extended metaphor in the prose and what the "garden" represented. Walker's mother had the ability to take rocky soil and turn it into a beautiful garden because she possessed the "...muzzled and often mutilated, but vibrant, creative spirit the black woman has inherited." I posed the question to my students, "what is your mother's garden?" And anyone who knows me knows any writing of mine is inept without input from the illustrious L. Boogie who once stated, "I'm like the mad scientist who does the experiment on themselves." So of course I performed the experiment on myself and here is how it went....

At twenty, I have graduated from college, been accepted to law school and work full time as a high school English teacher. Every time I attempt to pat myself on the back, I remember that at this age my mother was new to the United States, newly married, expecting her first child and working while learning English at night.

Her name is signed to my story.

It wasn't until this past year that I began to seek my mother's garden. Years of adolescent angst barred me from doing so before; I was too busy resenting her. My mother, like a lot of Haitian women, is a pressure cooker. Much like that pot of rice she cooks every evening for dinner, my mother pressures her children to do more at all times. If I was graduating at 19, she wanted to know if there was a way I could do it at 18. For a young and developing woman, that pressure translated into inadequacy. Nothing I did was good enough.

As I look back on it, through teary eyes I understand her desire to see me succeed beyond even my wildest imagination. If she had the same opportunities I had... there is no telling the things she would have done. I wish I could have understood the spirit I had inherited back then. I wish I could have understood how monumental every ride I took on the Blue or Orange line was. I wish I would have said a prayer every time I walked through the front gates with the same consciousness I dodged that seal with. My journey from work, or Pentagon City, or my internship on the Hill went by quickly and quietly. I didn't see my mother sitting next to me 30 years before on her way to the same Georgetown neighborhood. I didn't see my mother sitting next to me in Dr. Mitchell's classroom. As I discussed literature as an English major... my mother learned the English language.

I wish I would have seen my mother's signature at the foot of my twin size dorm room bed before I invited an outsider to shatter my confidence. I wish as I recited my poetry in front of endless open mics I would have seen my mother's signature at the conclusion of every last line.

Every evening upon her return from a 10 hour work day, after a five star dinner has been cooked, she folds the newspaper to a quarter of its size... On it you'll see the day's crossword puzzle. It seems in a matter of minutes she has completed every small square on the recycled paper. 5A or 7D kneels before her like it seems everyone should. If during the day she is conquered by fatigue, frustration, or sheer brokenness.... during the evening she manages to conquer every thing else from puzzles to bills to dinner to... life. Thirty years ago, she couldn't define any of the words on the sheet and now, she could write the clues herself.

I found beauty in her accomplishment. I tried to emulate it. I was an English major after all and extremely well read. And.. English was my first language. As I sat on a Saturday afternoon I tried for hours to accomplish what my mother accomplished on a daily basis. I failed. Failed miserably. When my mother saw my attempt... 6 answers filled out of the near 200 she giggled quietly. Under her breath was a certain wisdom I had yet to acquire. She knew like I know now, that I had to find my own garden.

My story is her story. Every poem, composition, paper, and essay I write bears her name. My mother's garden, her crossword puzzle, her ability to turn rocky soil into a beautiful garden, speaks to the muzzled, often mutilated yet vibrant creative spirit I have inherited. I hope when I walk into my first class at the Law Center I will recall my mother's first steps... into this country, into a classroom, into her job. I'm sure at my age in this time she would have aced the LSAT. But her signature was signed to my application, not her own. She was too busy being a mother to me....

In search of my mother's garden... I found my own.

Hold your hand much bigger,
never wanted mine to grow
so I could always fit perfect
inside your palms just so....

Thank you Mama. I finally understand...

5/13/07