please protect this love...

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).

on love.

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.

2/12/10

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.

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.

keep or be kept.

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

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

pause.

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.

any way the wind blows...

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.

tragedy or triumph?

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.

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.

the miseducation part 1

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