Human. Empath. Thinker. Writer. Speaker. Fighter. Lover. Woman... In that order

Saturday, 04 April 2009

  • Currently
    Self Made
    By Mike Jones
    I gotta be next to you
    see related

    One Part Lion

    I realize I never meant

    To not touch him-

    Verbal boundaries look prettier than

    Chemical bonds sometimes-

    But they aren’t nearly strong enough,

    Or entirely accurate

    I realized that I learned how to breathe

    Sufficiently on my own,

    But discovered the fine art of exhalation

    After I inhaled

    His scent.

     

    My eyes don’t believe the scene my mind is playing,

    Energy has somehow redefined a decade

    And re-spoken history

    And electrified a clarity that was never crystal-clear

    I whispered to him, “Am I dreaming?”

    He whispered back, “No, am I?” and I can hear him smiling

    My arteries were working overtime and I feel the edges of my

    Lips turn upward-

    There’s courage behind his eyes and its mirrored in his voice

    And matched with respect.

    Who wants what more?

    He laughs with me

    He sighed, a baby-eyed friendliness he possesses even in slumber, crest smile with

    A physique trained with a sensitive athleticism

    that Bernini himself could appreciate

     

    Somewhere in time, the mind of my teenage years is exploding to the

    Tune of En Vogue

     

    Smooth beauty like porcelain but

    Rough enough to remind me of a playful ruggedness that echoes the word

    Handsome-

    Shaken over fire and ice with adrenaline and testosterone,

    Kindness and humor,

    Logic and instinct,

    2 parts guardian, 2 parts wonder

    3 parts human, 1 part lion, 100% him

     

    He seeks oxytocin from his own neurological creation

    And seems to find it

    When his fingertips grace the surface of my skin-

    One hug never seems to suffice

    Voice low, eyes wide, lungs open

    Somewhere in time, I swear my teenage mind is exploding to the tune of an old Usher song

     

    I take comfort in knowing that I read him well

    I marvel in the fact that he can look at me and

    My pupils dilate and

    I feel myself grow just a bit weaker

    And I’m tired and tried and realize that maybe this time

    I’m meant to concede to, rather than compete against

    something such as this

    He’s a salve to wounds, as

    I am a comfort to him; but there is more…

    Its as if malleability of both of us increases, creating permission

    To be stirred by our senses

    I take pleasure in seeing how twilight illumination is cast against his familiar face

    The light bends just so,  elucidating masculine angles and childlike convexes of skin

    I laugh at myself because I’m in awe every single time-

    Michelangelo himself couldn’t create such a delicate brush stroke, although

    It took his greatness less time to finish the Sistine

    Than it has for us to realize

    What kind of masterpiece may lay between us…

     

    Unspoken rules may arise from this fairy tale,

    New insecurities may arise from full exposure,

    But new beauty was found

    New trusts were created

    New destinies were laughing at us,

    Hollering that it is about damn time we got with the program-

    Magnetism is one thing, but chemical bonds,

    Molecular understanding-

    Basal love from which to build an empire- this is quite another

    We’re weary from battle wounds and marked by

    Scars we both wear as lessons and chapters of our respective lives-

     

    An unspoken strength is provided through his presence,

    Helping me to reaffirm my belief that fear is nothing but

    False evidence appearing real-

    If there was ever someone worthy of entrance to my depths of comfort,

    Its him,

    If there was ever an unconditional bond that runs deep, its with

    him

    And if there was ever someone worth catching if they fell,

    Its him.

Wednesday, 10 December 2008

  • I would DESTROY their fusebox after the 4th viewing.

    This was taken from bulletproof7's site. Um, yeah. I agree. I'm definitely glad I'm not this person's neighbor!
  • Currently
    Birth of the Cool
    By Miles Davis
    see related

    Cardiovascular Humanistics.

    He rests his head on whitecaps
    Body in atmosphere
    Mind fluid. Simple. Magnificent.
    Peacefully drifting
    To the tune of Blue in Green
    (He is still surprised that I love Miles)
    An internal homing beacon
    Lets me know the lat and long,
    So I never truly get lost-
    Kinda like home to me
    It’s a rhythm that can lull me
    To sleep anytime of day
    Cause I know I’m safe.
    And I know I won’t drown
    Cause even when dreaming,
    He doesn’t let go
    A chosen reflex, yet subconscious reaction
    Keeps me warm
    Keeps me calm

    It’s the way there’s never
    A translation needed
    It’s the way I
    Breathe easier
    It’s the way
    I see him soothed
    It’s the way I
    Already know
    Its deeper than a reason
    Wiser than a choice
    Better than a chemical
    A naturally crafted symphony
    Because it is what it is, simply
    Charted since my beginning
    I’m not afraid to float alone
    Its just better alongside him

    He resides within sands of time
    And is healing wounds he
    Doesn’t know he can touch
    No others have
    Been able to get that
    Deep within my veins.
    Although humbly aware of the salve he provides
    Generously, without penance
    A nightlight that illuminates
    Pulls me up when I’m in shadows
    A softness that nurtures the lows
    A bearer of solidity
    That clears my head
    Every time I doubt him I get an even stronger
    Reminder
    Sometimes I can’t keep up, but I know I can’t back down
    I know when he’s doubted
    And is struggling with
    An ingrained fear of falling
    Because he pulls me closer
    And breathes slower
    And his eyelids lower
    Homing beacons in sync
    At peace
    He knows I’ll catch him
    And because we equate
    side by side
    When footing is lost
    we collide sometimes
    But always lean equally
    Rejuvenation in balance

    Forever in each other’s systems-
    Both oxygen
    And co2
    Reciprocal fear of the other
    Reciprocal need of the other
    Reciprocal denial of the need
    Reciprocal suffocation without supply
    A life-sustaining tango
    Atmospherically graced
    Optically charming
    Reality consuming-
    An often overlooked though
    appreciated necessity
    that is necessary
    Love.

Tuesday, 09 December 2008

  • Food For Thought.

    WATCH THIS.
  • Currently
    The Blues Brothers: Original Soundtrack Recording
    Sweet Home Chicago
    see related

    Raven Trains in His Silent City

    The sound of the brown line L

    Was soothing to me that week,

    I was an ancient teenager that week,

    Not sure if courage involved being bold or meek that week,

    Not sure if I was Roman or Greek that week,

    Because I felt sick with an oracle from the previous Sunday night that week-

    I sometimes forget dreams, but that one would

    Stay with me for good.

    Some would call it a premonition, but I prefer to think of it

    As a tragically bizarre coincidence.

    because of what happened two days after I had it,

    on a Tuesday morning…

    Somehow I found peace in an allegoric boxing gym and

    Then in an empty train car tonight.

    Green-eyed with wet curly hair that smelled like

    Herbal essences and Paul Mitchell conditioner.

    I had a duffel bag full of gear with me.

    my skin was scented by dove soap- and it stretched over my

    Thankfully aching muscles- I didn’t have a cell phone yet,

    Or an ipod- just a discman and headphones.

    They painted impressionistic art across my ears to the vibes

    Of nas, talib kweli, Vanessa carlton, miles davis, BB King, and of course

    Those blues brothers we all know and love;

    For this was my sweet home I was

    Supervising in that moment.

    It was well after sunset on

    September 14, 2001.

    I was trying to escape the societal chaos;

    I have still never seen a Friday night el train so empty

    As far as I could see, I was literally the only one on it.

    I was a 17 year old at 11:39 pm on the cta, trying to still make sense of

    Tuesday’s events; they only had really sunk in the day before.

    I never want to see another photograph of it again.

     

    I had never been so exhausted from

    boxing as I was that night; I kept moving until I felt that  

    notions of demons that didn’t speak my language were

    weaker than me.

    I don’t mean English

    I mean basic human, heart beat, lungs breathe, wounds bleed life language

    All my thoughts made my shoulders tense back up and my

    Heart heavy. So I switched my attention and

    I watched fervently as the 2387 car

    Steamrolled down the masterpiece

    Of iron, wood, steel and brick

    That made up the Ravenswood line

    As the windows played a picture

    Of the downtown skyline.

    This train of thought helped me clear

    My runaway train of thought. I was with Talib in spirit-

    In that moment I became an eternalist.

    There is no liquid crystal as clear as what

    I saw through the slightly scratched glass, when I was alone and peacefully battled.

    He lit up just for me, it was just for me that moment.

     

    I needed to see Chi’s face,

    I needed to see his tower shoulders

    Needed to see his hand cocked and

    Guarding his citizens; cause we were all scared and

    I needed to see he wasn’t hurt too.

    I think he understood that.

    And he smiled back with

    Halogen, fluorescent and electric.

    And waved to me when I reached the Clark Street platform

    With a windy hand, then came closer

    And hugged me with an Indian summer-like tepid heat.

    I swear to God I didn’t think it would move me, but tears

    They flowed freely; it was okay though. It was just me and him.

    I was so glad to have his back.

    Needed him to know we all had his back.

    I loved how he stood tall.

    Loved how he was still a slugger.

    Chi was living and breathing

    Not broken and bleeding.

    He spoke softly from a place of mourning

    He was stoic but gentle

    And he looked a little like he’d wept before I could see him,

    Instead of sweating and bragging like normal.

    But his big shoulders went no where,

    His wrists twisted for no one, and he

    Still held the pulse he guarded well,

    His ribs broke for no one and he still

    Protected the hearts of his people.

    Mr. Sandburg would have been so proud,

    I’m sure he would have spoken out loud

    If he had been standing next to me that night on

    The platform. I would have enjoyed his company.

     

    But honestly, Chi’s was plenty. He’s an old friend,

    And we had a lot to talk about that evening.

    Although we both were uncharacteristically quiet,

    Somehow the reciprocal silence of personalities that were

    Normally so busy and animated set us both at ease.

     

    He sat behind me as I rode the green line into the

    Heart of the west side,

    He just chilled with me the whole way home,

    Neither of us ended up having to say a thing.





Monday, 24 November 2008

Friday, 21 November 2008

  • Currently
    Take the Lead
    You never gonna get it
    see related

    "If She Can't Use Ya Mama's Comb..."

    ****HEY READ THIS PART FIRST: This is dedicated to ignorant women everywhere (and some men as well). ALL ignorant women everywhere. White, pink, brown, black, purple, red, blue, yellow, orange, green, ivory, ebony, raspberry, magenta, martian, spotted, striped, day-glo, fluorescent, glow-in-the-dark, sparkly, freckled, plaid and paisley. EVERY DAMN COLOR OF IGNORANT WOMEN who think they can tell me who to date or be with. I've absolutely HAD it with the lectures and 'sly' judgments.****


    Apparently, I’m a thief.
    I steal and captivate the attention of
    ‘Good Black Men’ and
    ‘Docile Latin Men’ and
    'Rhythmic Filipino Men' and
    Somehow all of those in between,
    That I’ve been told aren’t ‘mine’ to touch.
    Because I STEAL their attention
    From someone who is not me.
    And my penance is the grief
    And looks, and comments
    And attitude
    From whoever decides
    To tell me their thoughts,
    Because there is no way in hell that
    It could be wrong to be offensive
    Towards me.
    After all, I’m white.
    And apparently I’m owed a bit
    Of bitchiness
    And a bit of disrespect
    For reasons that are beyond me.
    Cause I didn't say shit to you about
    who YOU are with at any given moment.

    Let me break something down
    So it can and will be forever BROKE:
    I didn’t ‘STEAL’ anything.
    And saying that you
    ‘just don’t think it’s right’ and that
    ‘it’s just your opinion’ doesn’t cover
    The fact that your blatant
    Disregard for common sense
    May as well have its own personal mic,
    Because its that loud.

    And I can play around with the best of them,
    I joke about damn near everything,
    And trust me, I can throw down a
    Lyric or two
    I got some soul in me
    That allows me to dance and not look crazy.
    And some spice in me that allows
    Me to have a bit of fire in my blood
    And not be blind to passion.
    Hell, I can even box.
    In fact, I’m damn good at it.
    I’ve trained for nearly 7 years.

    And white guys, well
    they tend to be a bit
    Pale for my taste,
    But just by chance, to be honest with you.
    Not really sure why I like what I like.
    Do you truly know the origins of your preferences?
    Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

    So the hate against white girls who date
    Beyond their race?
    Useless.
    More useless than those who are content
    With reciprocating the idea that its
    Wrong.
    More useless than those who are quick
    To dismiss it as an infatuation or fetish
    More useless than racism itself.
    Because giving me shit for seeing
    A black guy, Latino guy, or Filipino guy just because he’s black or Latino or Filipino,
    IS RACISM…
    and being racist is a title
    that happens to be colorblind.

    Ironic, no?

    So let me be VERY real with you
    The only opinion that will dictate
    Who I can or cannot fuck
    Is MINE. Well, mine and the person involved.
    Plus, we all keep fucking each other,
    We’re all gonna be the same color one day anyway.
    You ever heard of a place called BRASIL?!
    They get along just fine.
    You're concerned about purity of race?
    Take your silly ass back to WWII
    and chat with Hitler.
    Ask him how well his 'purity of race' idea worked out,
    And all the 'wonderful things' it did for society.
    Moron.
    Cause I have no time for you.

    Get over yourselves. I didn’t steal shit.
    I just got something that you may want.
    And it has nothing to do with my
    Appearance.
    Its intelligence.
    Being open-minded isn’t a flaw of mine.
    It’s a natural choice.
    That is invigorating
    Its enlightening
    Its truthful.
    Its human.
    And it has nothing to do with you personally,
    Although I’m sure you want to make it about
    YOU.

    People say white women are weak?
    I’m a strong white woman.
    Don’t laugh, I could probably level you.
    People say white women are air-heads?
    I got a 28 on the ACT.
    And I have two degrees.
    Oh, and I recently qualified for IHIQS,
    And I will be testing for Mensa shortly.
    Google it.
    People say white women aren’t street savvy?
    I’m probably more familiar with the hood
    Than any non-Chicago resident you will ever meet,
    Next to my sister Meghan,
    And it’s not because we went to the tip
    To buy weed.
    People say white women don’t struggle?
    I watched my family fall apart,
    Me and my buddy watched someone get shot to death – in front of us.
    I’ve scraped the bottom of savings to stay afloat
    And I’ve had to physically fight back from violence and abuse.
    People say white women are only good for head?
    Ha—keep telling yourself that. And don’t get mad
    If my skills are better than yours
    People say white women don't have bodies?
    LMAO. Okay.
    People say white women are easy?
    Clearly you have not met me…
    People say white women are meek? Shy? Pushovers?
    Again, clearly, you have not met me…

    Funny thing is, I’m not an exception to the rule
    Either.
    But I’m an individual, regardless of my race,
    But that makes no difference
    When I’m on the arm of someone
    Who has a beautiful year-round tan,
    does it?

    So it can continue to be an issue if you would
    like to make it one,
    But I’m still gonna do as I please.

    Just don’t start complaining about racism,
    When you spit insults from an ignorant tongue,
    Because karma is outrageously underrated,
    And it bites back hard.
    I won't deliver it, though.
    I refuse to dignify racism
    By making an issue of something that has nothing to do with me.
    Not worried about karma? Well
    That MAY be why at any given time
    I’M seeing the man
    That you think you should have
    AND its why he spoke to me first,
    Because I’ll be damned if I’m a back-up.

    “If she can’t use your mama’s comb,
    Don’t take her home.”
    Wow.
    Yeah, that
    Has been thrown at me a few times.
    “If she ain’t cookin, there’s no sense
    In lookin” – Yeah I’ve heard that one too
    “If her skin is white, you know she ain’t right”?
    Yup, that one too. More than I’d like to count.
    Well,
    I got my own damn comb, but thanks.
    And my best friends growing up
    Were Irish, Italian, Southern, Latino and Black
    And all their mamas loved me.
    So you better believe I can throw down
    In the kitchen. I also dated a chef.
    AND he was Latino too.
    Oh- and I tan well in the summer.
    I even get freckles-
    They’re cute with my gorgeous green eyes
    That change to hazel and blue sometimes.
    You can keep hating, btw,
    I know you already are.

    So although, I appreciate your concern for MY life
    I’m still gonna choose what I choose
    I’m still gonna do what I do.
    I don't back down & I don't scare easily,
    And I really don’t give a FUCK about YOU.
  • Currently
    Year of the Gentleman
    By Ne-Yo
    see related

    Ummmm, wtf.

    Does anyone think its acceptable for a 26 year old to act like he's five?

    And is it possible that someone is an asshole out of the blue (when otherwise unprovoked at all) because they are afraid to catch real feelings? Or they are threatened by something about me? Or they just don't know how to fucking act? Cause I know a person that did that last night and it kinda hurt me. Seriously, my jaw dropped at his audacity at least 4 times. And then he texts and calls today like nothing happened. What the fuck gives? I'm too pissed to talk to him right now, so I'm ignoring him.

    Just curious.

    I have had it up to HERE with game-playing and bullshit.

    Anyway, that's my 2AM randomness.

    I'll post the "ya mama's comb" piece later. HOLLER



Wednesday, 19 November 2008

  • Currently
    What Sound
    By Lamb
    Gabriel
    see related

    A Bird Will Fall Frozen

    I can't sleep. This is what came out. Lol.

    Words link up
    To form the chains that
    Link up to form
    The links
    Of armor that guard me.
    But there is much more
    Beneath their surface.
    What they protect
    Is strong but delicate.
    I can’t swim with the sharks
    That captivate me
    Without a chainmail suit-
    Unless I know they won’t bite.
    And you can never know how hungry they are,
    Unless you’ve watched them feed prior to
    Your presence in their current.
    I can’t run with wolves
    If I hide in sheepskin.
    I’ll be devoured, even if by accident.
    Pretending to be something other than me
    Isn’t an option in any situation.
    I have a big heart.
    So I protect it accordingly,
    Whether by showing teeth outwardly
    Or modeling steel internally.
    Admitting the presence of inner vulnerability
    Is liberating to an extent,
    It serves as a reminder to the
    Human condition,
    But it doesn’t immunize
    Against weapons that destroy.

    I do what I can in the moment.
    Something far from emptiness resides within,
    So vigilance is favored whether it is with or without grace-
    Being forthright is a strength I am most grateful for.
    Due to a precise and nearly Nikon-like memory
    Of what trial does
    I rely on my own compass
    But am aware that outward coldness
    And a razorblade tongue
    Don’t serve me well when the air is crisp
    And my breath fogs in front of me in June,
    When what
    I really need is warmth near to me
    To keep me alive.
    So I seek to err humanly
    So I maneuver to receive-

    Mr. Lawrence said he
    Never saw a wild thing
    Sorry for itself.
    I must concur, for
    Fear is not pity,
    to be docile
    Is not weak,
    To possess ownership of self
    Is not ignorance.
    Even when staring
    Back at one frightened
    Through reflective sand
    Molded smoothly and still-
    I, too, have never seen a wild
    Thing truly sorry for itself.

Tuesday, 18 November 2008

  • Currently
    Blazing Arrow
    By Blackalicious
    Make You Feel That Way
    see related

    I got my own damn comb. Thanks though.

    I've dated outside of my race for a long time now. Not for any particular reason beyond that I just find the current person I'm seeing attractive. It's never been to make a point, it's never been to get noticed, and it has never been due to the greatness of ease involved in interracial dating.

    But my question is, what the hell does it have to do with anyone else? I went to an open mic last night at DePaul, where I was the only white performer. My best friend Celly (he's in my photostrip pics- the guy with the dark glasses) did a piece a few before me where he was telling everyone about how he cheated on this girl because she was an ass, and it was good. The last stanza lets everyone know that, oh by the way, the girl was white. (I thought I was going to be assaulted. Everyone all turned and stared at ME, which I could care less about, but he's like my brother. Ewwwwwww). Man, I had never seen such an uproar of emotions! May I ask politely, what is it about people that makes them think someone elses racial, aesthetic or sexual preference has anything to do with THEM?! Eh, it was all a big ordeal, and then the MC (an otherwise hilarious black female fellow performer) got up and told the crowd that if "she can't use ya mama's comb, don't bring her home." And then she turned to me in the crowd (still the only white chick there- the other two across the room bailed with serious quickness) and said, "Don't trip, we still like you though." She didn't realize I was on the list to perform. Twice.

    I mean, what the hell?

    I then got up and proceeded to absolutely OWN the stage with some pieces I had written. It was my second time at their forum at DePaul, but the first time performing. I don't hold grudges often, and I won't in this case, but I have something to say in the next piece I'm working on. It addresses issues that I normally would not dignify with a response, such as the one mentioned above. Be forewarned- it will be dedicated to ANYONE (black, white, yellow, purple, red, striped, spotted, glow-in-the-dark...) who believes they have something to personally say to me about my preference of men. I was offended. I'm tired of people thinking that my choices have anything to do with them. People really gotta get over themselves.

    I love being a writer, if only for redeeming myself sometimes. Stay tuned yall.

    xoxo


Monday, 17 November 2008

  • Currently
    Shut 'Em Down
    By Onyx
    see related

    tommy gun.

    There’s a mind attached to my body.
    A strong one,
    A smart one,
    A Tommy gun midnight sun
    A naval chart work of art

    I don’t like interviews,
    Prefer information to naturally accrue
    I respond to conversation
    I’m a fan of vindication
    And disdain vocal segmentation
    When testing waters, I like to use a depth gauge
    To prevent drowning within a fallacy cage
    To prevent stirring dangers that may lurk
    Beneath surfaces of a memory-lined cirque…
    Any words you find less than ordinary?
    Merely consult a dictionary.

    I ask questions to get straight answers
    Not manipulated forms of verbal cancers
    I’m curiously real
    So I do what I feel
    I’ll orally solve anything I misunderstand
    Communication is imperative, I know that firsthand.
    And while I like to believe people don’t outright lie,
    Making things up is often their close alibi
    So I like to clear it up quickly.
    Simply.

    I don’t watch Oprah.
    I don’t like her much.
    Thick arrogance inspires impatience, a sort of friction clutch.
    But I do like self-authority
    And a sense of class not possessed by the majority.
    I like Meet the Press and am attentive to worldwide stocks,
    I prefer BBC news, and despise the typical American squawk box.
    Larry King is the grand exception,
    I can vibe with a guy who avoids mass deception
    And can ask a good question
    And has an intelligent impression
    And a decent discretion-
    After all, mindless rambling bores me,
    And melodramatics are chores to me.
    Treat me like a lady and I’ll gladly reciprocate.
    Love me like a whore and even your mind will be left to masturbate.

    My father once said my ultimate weakness is that I don’t tolerate fools well.
    And that too much shit from them causes me to raise hell.

    I wish he wasn’t dead-on correct.
    Proverbs said a fool’s mouth will snare his soul.
    But on chances and ecstasy it will also take a toll.
    So tell me something real.
    Peel away a layer to reveal.
    I need it cut with the warmth that’s sung about
    Admired and spelled out.
    Because I have a steady core temp of 100.8 degrees
    (That is in Fahrenheit) I got a feverish ease
    So luke-warm feels cool, you see
    Cool feels downright cold to me.
    I don’t want to know any secrets
    Even if I’m not one who misinterprets
    just. tell. me. something. real.
    Share with me an ideal
    Tell me something wise, not something smart
    Not as easy as it sounds- do us both a favor
    Put some thought in before you start.

    There’s a difference between phoniness and fears
    I’ve dealt with many who are master engineers
    of words in ears that merely appear clear and near
    “Pioneers” that try to get me in fourth gear and maneuver
    Their oar like a gondolier.
    But their sentences are sheer and sound too career
    So the meanings don’t adhere
    They are racketeers impeding on a more intelligent financier.
    So baby come here and start in first gear. It's
    Those who are logically sincere that I hold in highest revere.

    And that doesn’t happen often.

    You have a Plexiglas fortress around the exterior
    Supports treated with glycerin slickness colder than Lake Superior
    That’s why you’re so smooth
    And difficult to truly soothe
    Strong, but transparent.
    Opaqueness is a subjective and collective façade you construe
    A kind of king of mind-fucking kung-fu.
    But just remember I’m not easy to subdue.
    And I don’t chop and screw
    And can’t understand women who do.
    And I’d much rather discover more sides of you,
    Than only “know” you by being able to see
    right.
    through.
    you.

Sunday, 16 November 2008

  • Currently
    Floetic
    By Floetry
    see related

    Mr. Sage

    Mr. Sage
    With words like elixir, a head spinner-
    Thought twister and temporary fixer
    Has a ground zero with no history-
    Starting point for a fantasy with a background
    of international mystery
    Monologues written in fire and molasses,
    Taking the spotlight with a modified side move
    Numbs me verbally and heats my chassis, but
    Tepid to the touch with silent eyes and a solo groove-

    Mr. Sage, if talents were women
    Your place of peace would never grow cold
    Im athletic, and its difficult to make my knees weak,
    But I'll admit your approach has yet to grow old-
    Im curious, almost too much to make sensible personal philosophies stick
    Private insinuations have my mind running marathons-
    Not sure what road to pick, not sure
    If you're a magician with a breathtaking trick,
    A tomcat with a mindblowing lick,
    A pheromone-infused candle with a never-failing wick-
    or a fusion of foreign voodoo with an addictive kick

    Mr. Sage, you unnerve me
    I'm a pro at casuality, but a sucker for sensuality
    Not up for use or a one night noose-
    The only thing I'll hang on is a word
    that promises more pleasure
    I prefer lovers. Not dips. You dig?
    Sexuality that craves more knowledge and
    Regularly makes me moan

    Don't be afraid to know me
    Respect is more useful to me than game
    Pursue more than the usual-
    I guarantee I'll be more fun to attempt to tame- ha

    Mr. Sage, if you get me to undress-
    you gotta tantalize the senses and have my spine arch and say yes
    The tone has to touch between my thighs and shelter my eyes
    The scent must ease tension with no worries to mention
    I'm not a wagering woman- and I'm no one's pawn for use
    Or false affection
    Make my hips listen, and those lips glisten-
    Bend me, twist me, and hurricane-kiss me
    Distill me, fill me, and cross-culturally thrill me

    Read my body, not my mind
    Start smooth or furious, depending on how you feel
    Talk to me and whisper and grab me from behind
    Strip me slowly, excite me swiftly
    Invoke your imagination, enlighten me with an education
    Give me something I'll beg for, make me an expert witness
    Im mostly about the liberal arts, but feel free to school me in business-

    You know, I can see you envisioning-
    Engineering an edifice; its your hormonal right.
    Closing your eyes to enable provisioning-
    Listening hard, head getting light with images so tight

    I have a weakness for magic fingers and strong hands
    So Mr. Sage, grip my back like I won’t react
    With the muscle of a riot act, but
    Then touch me like I’ll fracture and
    Soothe my skin with an assuasive rapture
    It’s the conflicting misconceptions that will
    Keep my attention-
    Not to mention the surface reflection
    That comes with lack of condescension-
    Try some reinvention
    Hold me down and tie me for detention-

    But only for a little while-
    Eventually I’ll need to flip to the top
    switch the architectural style,
    Let you dip into my
    River Nile,
    To be vertically versatile

    Mr. Sage,
    I want to make beats out of your exhalation
    As intense as your anticipation for when
    My reservation morphs to consummation
    And instrumentally synched gyration
    That’s soaked with lubrication and a touch of meditation
    Causes possible heat prostration with slight retardation-
    such a small sacrifice
    For a chemical amalgamation…

Sunday, 20 July 2008

  • Currently Listening
    Definitive Greatest Hits
    By Al Green
    see related
    I am a breathing, living, walking example of Murphy's Law.

    No, seriously, I am.

    See, when my job is going well, I can't figure out men. Once the man thing is fine, I lose my job (back in April, but that's another story in its own right. This time, lol, I got fired for doing my job). When shit at home is finally peaceful, I'm broke. When I come into money, its WWIII in the house. Nothing is ever in sync with me. Granted, this is no one's fault but my own, but the irony is a bit irritating.

    In late March, I started noticing that certain figures on certain legal documents pertaining to certain banks in the Chicago area were not adding up correctly. Mind you, these documents become notarized and legal and public eventually. However, I HAVE had fraud inspection training, and I grew up in and around an accounting office, plus something so blatantly illegal tends to smack you in the face. So, I bring the mistakes (as I referred to them in the office) to the attention of the attorneys. I let them know that certain figures are not accurate according to records we have, yadda yadda yadda. Long story short? I get let go a week later. "Lack of work to be done and attendance issues" was their reason, however the office was busy, and I'd only called off after NYE, when all that shit went down. Go figure. I hate lawyers, but I can't wait to be one. Well, I don't hate lawyers. I hate stupid people. Can't deal with them well. Then again, who can.

    So that is that story. The guy area is doing okay. Miraculously, I am back to seeing the former part time lover again. At one point back in February, I explained to him that I'm not a revolving door, and if you want to be in my life, be in it, but don't think its okay to walk in and out. I mean, that's fair, no? I couldn't believe I had had the balls to be so frank, but then again I'm the only one dumb enough to underestimate ME. Anyway, shit has been going strong for months now ever since I broke it down to him. No official relationship, but its about as official as something can get without a label. He's great, honest. Otherwise I wouldn't stick my neck out for it. I got the whole "I really care about you, etc., but don't want something serious because I can't give you the amount of time, etc., that you deserve, and it isn't my style to half-ass a relationship with someone that I genuinely respect" conversation out of him. Works for me. He's not an asshole. He's honest. And Kelly sure loves honesty. Probably the reason I've loved the guy for nearly 2 years.

    Eh well, we'll see where this road leads. I'm enjoying the journey, at least. If nothing right now is going right- money sitch, job sitch (and, well, lack there of), the fact my mom can make me want to pull a peter pan off the Sear's tower-- this guy is what makes it all better. Seriously. Lame as it sounds, its so true.

    Anyway, till next time kids.

    Kelly

Thursday, 14 February 2008

  • Currently Reading
    Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia
    By Elizabeth Gilbert
    see related

    RETARDED, yo.

    Some people make it too easy (and therefore its NOT FUN) to call them out.

    Take the mayor of New Orleans, for example. He's recently upset his "Chocolate City" (ha, remember that one, everbody?) by pointing a friggin machine gun at the chief of police.

    Man.....






    Did Mayor Take Aim At Chief?

    POSTED: 10:28 am CST February 14, 2008
    UPDATED: 1:53 pm CST February 14, 2008

    NEW ORLEANS -- A firestorm of controversy ensued after Mayor Ray Nagin, sporting a broad smile, seemed to aim an assault rifle at Police Superintendent Warren Riley in a Times-Picayune newspaper photo.The photograph has pervaded talk radio and cyberspace, creating blog chatter and a forum for public opinion.

    Many pundits, bloggers (such as myself!) and forum-posters took aim at the mayor. The shot was taken at a public unveiling of new additions to the New Orleans Police Department’s arsenal.“When most saw it, they were horrified,” Loyola University professor of communications Dr. Robert Thomas said. “The way people feel about guns, with the murder rate here, it’s something we have to deal with.”

    Meanwhile, video shows the mayor waving the rifle around in front of the police chief and the crowd, leading some to say that the mayor didn’t intentionally take aim at the chief."It continues the national embarassment from silly things that happen in our city," Thomas said. In a statement, Nagin claimed “the photo grossly misrepresented the mayor and the police chief. The event was to feature the department’s new crime-fighting equipment. The mayor continues to be on the front lines to secure resources for agencies that are struggling to rebuild.”

    The Times-Picayune would not comment when contacted on its publication of the photo. But, Thursday morning, following its review of the video, the newspaper published the following statement:

    "A photo in some Metro sections and on NOLA.com on Wednesday showed a laughing Mayor Ray Nagin pointing an M-4 rifle at Chief of Police Warren Riley at a news conference to announce new crime fighting equipment purchased by the New Orleans Police Department. A review of a video taken at the event shows that the mayor momentarily pointed the gun at the chief as he was lowering it but he did not deliberately point it at Riley."



    Like I said, retarded, yo. I'm convinced that my dog, Chase, would be about 50 times more fabulous as a mayor. Just a thought.

    Kelly

Monday, 21 January 2008

  • Currently Reading
    The Tao of Pooh
    By Benjamin Hoff
    see related

    Love Drugs.

    So. How has errybody been? I have quite a few updates...

    First, I had a short-lived romance in December, right up until NYE... haha, yes, I really said "short-lived romance". That is exactly what it was, and it was cut short because I was slipped the chemical equivalent of fucking SPEED on NYE, acted fucking crazy in front of the guy, and he somehow can't get over it (so much for caring about me!). I'm not trippin too hard anymore, I mean if someone can't handle me at my worst, do they deserve me at my bestest-most fabulous self? I didn't think so either. But I miss his presence in my life, to be honest about it. He was nice to talk to and nice to laugh with. But maturity (or lack of it) is a deal breaker, and if I'm not important to someone, I'm not important to them. I'm not going to break my back bending over backwards. I mean, I owned what I said and did (although I honestly have NO memory whatsoever of the events), apologized, groveled a little bit, kissed a little ass, and it has gotten me no where but a little more confused, and not at all reassured.

    So, que sera sera. I'm not sticking around to be held as some pariah. Not really my style. Plus, the biggest concern is that I'm aight, considering the doctor is still baffled as to how I didn't have a heart-attack and keel over. (Yeah, besides a half-hearted "Are you going to be okay?" he didn't seem to concerned about that fact either. Jerk.) The situation as a whole was fucked up, and I really wish it didn't happen, because we really had something great going. And I didn't find out until FOUR DAYS LATER that I actually HAD been drugged- this dumbass girl (who shall remain nameless, just in case I get the chance to break my foot off in her ASS) actually called and told me that she gave me it on accident, when I had thought she had given me CLARITIN. I don't know if she did it on purpose. But either way it was extremely irresponsible, and it makes me look like a liar with a crazy explanation. But its the truth, and I'm glad I know it, because nothing I did made sense. So I now know I'm not a closet headcase, and the guy in question has an explanation as to why I was flippin psycho. What can you do though. The damage is already done- and he's obviously not willing to let it go.

    He needs to grow up. Cause it definitely hurt my feelings- a lot.

    Whatev.

    Not too much else I wanna report on now, actually. Job is great, I'm studying for LSATS, and I haven't gotten my own crib yet.

    Next time I'll tell you about how the exes keep poppin back in my life. Its quite interesting, but I have to get back to work.

    Kelly

Monday, 26 November 2007

  • Currently Listening
    The Black Album
    By Jay-Z
    see related

    Fuck You, Ron Huberman.

    And fuck all of the ignorant morons I have to deal with on a daily basis that work for the CTA. Naturally, if you work for the CTA, and you're COMPETANT, I'm not directing this at you. Stop whining.

    So, over the summer when I was looking for another job, my CTA pass went unused and unfunded (naturally). Apparently, they had tried (unsuccessfully) to reload the damn thing automatically and it didn't work because I had no funds FOR it. Duh.

    Fast forward four months, and two months of using the card with no problem. They decided to penalize for funds not available (from nearly four months prior, might I add) without notice, and with no way of reversing their ridiculous system error. And they won't give me a refund on the money that I've spent for the unlimited monthly pass. If I can't ride, why should they get my money? Fucking theives. They really need to stop crying like school girls about their so-called funding crisis. A transportation doomsday? Ha, okay. Are any of you familiar with the King Riots in LA? I have no doubt that there will be SERIOUS reprecussions if the CTA even dreams of striking.

    Hey Ron: FIRE YOUR NINE MILLION DUMBASS WORKERS, and hire people who aren't lazy, rude and obnoxiously socially unacceptable. Get a clue. You aren't gonna get shit from the government if you treat your customers like crap.

    The bus drivers are cool, as long as they don't group the buses into packs of 3 and 4. The train peeps? Please. They can ALL kiss my ass. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. I'm tired of shitty service and filthy trains. And to the CTA riders out there, here are some guidelines:

    1. Stop eating foul-smelling food when the train is packed shoulder to shoulder. It's gross.
    2. Don't bring 900 kids on the train and let them run wild.
    3. Let me say this loud and clear: no one wants to know what your doctor said about your 8th pregnancy. And trust me, no one cares that Rashawnda's baby daddy's sister is sleeping with your play-cousin Jay-Jay's best friend. Have some shame, and brush your teeth too.
    4. Drinking a 40 oz in the morning? Fine. But don't spill it on me while I'm on my way to WORK, and afterwards ask me for "bus fare". Get the fuck outta here, you're not fooling anyone.
    5. Wear deodorant. I'm staring at you because you smell like SHIT, not because you ARE the shit.
    6. Same goes for showering.
    7. Blasting Pantera at 7:00 isn't just rude, its downright wrong.
    8. Chew with your mouth closed, I don't care how dope your grill looks; its repulsive to see you chewing flaming-hots.
    9. Do not use the train as a urinal.
    10. Don't try to sell me socks, earrings, food, or candy. And don't buy from those who do. Its ignorant and annoying.
    11. Stop fucking talking to yourself. And God, outloud. While you're at it, please also refrain from asking me to donate to your "church". It's kind of illegal, and I have my own church to donate to.
    12. Take your Goddamned bag off the seat and HOLD it. Or I will sit on it. Fair warning.
    13. If you are sick, don't cough on me and then blame it on asthma. I have asthma, and it doesn't sound like that.
    14. If you are large, do not sit ON me. That includes sitting around me, and forcing me to plaster myself to the wall so you don't sweat on me.
    15. And last, but certainly not least, NO I do not have a fucking quarter for you. Hell I barely have enough for myself.

    Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

    Much better. Sorry if I offended you, but if you've ever ridden the L (specifically the green and blue lines), you should certainly understand where I'm coming from.

    Anyways... so it turns out part-time lovers are crap. Pure indecisive and time-wasting crap. But its aight, met a new prospect... we'll see where it goes. More on that later :)

    Kelly

Sunday, 18 November 2007

  • Currently Watching
    The Sopranos: The Complete Second Season
    By James Gandolfini, Edie Falco, Dominic Chianese, Nancy Marchand, Michael Imperioli
    see related

    Part-Time Lovers. Convenient or crap?

    So you know what's odd? I find myself being frustrated about the same things over and over and over again; and its not just me. Ha, let me rewind and give a bit of background.

    I like to refer to them as "part-time" lovers. Those that come in and out of our lives, stay on good terms, but disappear randomly. Now, because allowing this to exist is completely on me, it would be foolish for me to go on and on and on and on. Instead, lets all take a second and think about maybe why this shit occurs. Everyone out there has had someone like that. Available on every level but an emotional one. The worst of the worst, IMO.

    I was reading this article this past week, and it talked about how the connection between innate human fears (the only two you're born with are the fear of the sensation of falling and the fear of loud noises) and how they correlate with emotions later in life. Fascinating shit, I tell you. According to what this woman had to say, apparently the fear of falling for someone is perhaps linked to the innate fear of falling, period. It makes sense, considering that allowing yourself to become emotionally close is the psychological equivalent to skidding off of cliff; it brings quite a different visualization to the term 'falling in love'. And it also makes a little more sense of why so many of us are just friggin BABIES when it comes to this crap.

    See, my heart is constantly in a state of mend. I have a huge heart, so it comes with the territory. But I can't say I've ever been afraid of love. I mean, the falling isn't what kills you. Its the sudden stop at the end that tends to hurt, really. What I thought was moving along nicely (to bring you up to speed) has vacated quickly and quietly, with absolutely no explanation as to why. No phone calls in almost a week and a half? Ha, sorry. I don't take that bus. But I assume he'll have a more than decent story when he starts calling again. Always does, honestly.

    We'll see.

    Everytime I think things are progressing to the point of being solid, he disappears for a little bit. Emotionally unavailable? Definately. But whether its out of fear of love or commitment seems to be the question. Because the chemistry, the friendship, the trust, all that good stuff is there. I know, I know, I should just ask him what the hell is up. I plan to. It'll happen as soon as I get the courage, and he actually picks up the phone.

    Huhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (as my ex, Brandon, used to say when annoyed).

    Annnnnyways, I'm just happy other things in life seem to be in order (i.e. my job, my money, etc). Thank God for small blessings, no?

    Have a good week, yall.

    Kelly


Friday, 26 October 2007

  • Currently Reading
    Tao Te Ching: A New English Version (Perennial Classics)
    By Lao Tzu
    see related

    Interracial Issues, or Personal Interest?

    What's good.

    So, generally speaking, I'm doing well with life at the moment. I'm back seeing someone that I've always connected with, things seem to be progressing nicely- and overall things are great. I've rid myself of the phony and the "forgiven" offenders that pop up from my past, and seem to have weeded out toxic friendships. Some of that was done for me (this guy's ex decided to call me up and end the friendship/whatever-else I had with him FOR him, with no follow up from the guy to date... cut off in the worst way), but it ended up being a blessing. He seriously did not "know 'bout me..." as my girl Beyonce said.

    Wake up calls are fabulous, and I did have another man in a minute. Matter of fact, he met up with me and had some cocktails a few hours after I got that "fateful" call from the loser's ex. Just happened to happen that way, though. Why should I keep an MVP on the bench out of fear? Timing is everything, and it seems that logic prevailed. Truth is stronger than anything- this guy is the truth. In the best way. Its not about puppy love or being head over heels or anything- but deep mutual respect, on whatever level it is.

    Anyway, so to the heart of my main thought today. I was at Border's two days ago, and came across a book called "Why Black Men Love White Women". Intriguing? Of course. Anyone who knows me knows that I generally like my men how I like my cars and my chocolate-- dark. Sure, there have been exceptions, but whether it be dark-skinned Black men, dark olive-skinned Mediterranean men, or dark olive-skinned Latino men, they sure catch (and keep) my attention much more than white guys. Not sure why, I'm just more partial to them. What some Irish/German women may find beautiful but untouchable, I find exotic and attainable. Some find it a "maybe", whereas I find it a "yes, definately". Who can know why they like what they like. I just do, ya dig?

    So, I left Borders, and yesterday I went to amazon.com to find out more about this book. It's written by a well-versed Black author, who perpetuates the belief that the root of Black men being fascinated with White women has its history in (American) slavery times, where the White woman was an unattainable, almost fable-like taboo for Black men to acquire. Okay, I can appreciate that. Sure. However, how do you explain it in other countries? And what is with people believing that one person's heart/desire/lust/interest has anything to do with dissing an entire community of women?

    Maybe I'm being a bit self-centered here, but when I'm attracted to a man on whatever level, it generally has absolutely nothing to do with the women in his community. If I like a guy, its because I like him... he appeals to ME. Pretty much that simple. If I were to only go after what everyone else thought was "best for me" or was "my type" (according to them, of course)- I'd be single for the rest of my life (for lack of pickings, for one) and miserably unhappy about how I was checking out all the ones I was REALLY attracted to.

    People forget to stop and think what attracts one person to another. Many people are beautiful or sexy, but you wouldn't catch me with most of them. Why? Just not feelin it. The deeper you look, and the more you analyze, and the more you blame, the less you can really realize what it is about people that decides whether you click or not. I've had it with justifying my interest in men with backgrounds other than my own, especially to Black women (a few, definately not ALL- if you haven't had a convo with me about it where I've had to defend myself, this is not directed at you). Obviously, I'm doing something that you may or may not be. Chemistry is funny thing that way. When people, all people, realize that sometimes it just isn't ABOUT THEM, there will be such less stress.

    And as for Black men who tell Black women that they won't date Black women because they're too pushy, or demanding, or not sexual enough, or whatever their case is, please. I don't want those men either- a closed mind is not cute. I don't want to be someone's showboat or their mascot for their "cause". Frankly, if Black men have issues with Black women, which some admittedly do, um, that's their issue. I personally have yet to choose to date/talk to a Black man, or any other man for that matter, who wouldn't date inside their race as well. I've had no issue, personality or characteristically-wise, with dating a white guy. Although, in my experience of being me, lol, I happen to attract, and be attracted to, other ethnicities of men. So sue me. Better yet, hate me for it.

    Whether some women want to believe it or not, it really isn't all about them. And for the men who say it is "their fault", well, (seriously, trust me on this one), you really don't want them anyway. Arguing someone's personal opinion isn't only a waste of time, its illogical. In the words of my peeps on MTV,

    NEXT!

    Kelly

Friday, 05 October 2007