Friday, November 21, 2008

Beautifully, Wonderfully, Naturally Me!

With a mind like mine
I was built to be alone.
Wander aimless through this distant land.
For me there is no home.

My way was paved by me
No social group, no bff
no way to prove my very being 'cept my musings no one's reading

I giggle to myself at thoughts even I don't understand.
At times I'm blind I get in line
with those who wonder why I am.

But with this mind there's no use trying
I just settle for the ride
This dusty road may have but one strange traveler
still she suits me fine!
You Must Fight This
I can feel them.
I can feel them coming in on me. Those negative vibes.
I can feel their icey fingers gripping my ribs. Forcing out quick, draining exhalations.
Attempting to cloud my senses, melting into my atmosphere.
Settling into my subconscious like a thick fog.
You must fight this, a disant thought calls out in desperation. It is being choked out by the drumming in my heart. This demon settling in on my stomach. You must fight this she says again.
Angry storm trooper thoughts pound my temples.
Searching for open doors of which to enter into my mind.
I pray that the inhabitants of my lonely planet can defend themselves until I am present enough to provide backup.
You must fight this, she says again.
With each syllable a drum beats.
Or is it a heart beats?
Or is it the pounding of the wind?
Or the demon settling in on my abdomen?
Or the pulsating of each step until I reach safety leading the charge to defend my sanity.
Instead I lay in a drunken daze.
My actions stifled, thoughts hurried, worried in a slow, airless vacuum.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

I Wish I Was a Black Woman

I wish I was a Black woman
Smooth brown skin and full, thick lips
Ooh, I wish I was a Black woman
I'd be born with gifted hips

I would walk with a musical swagger
I would dance with an ear to the rhythm
I would age secretly, forgetting my birthdate
And when I finally grayed
Oh the wisdom!

I wish I was a Black woman
I'd be the reason that mankind exists
I would scrunch up my eyebrows
Pouty lips would form phrases of struggle and pain
With my button nose, piercing eyes and fluffy hair
I would raise my delicate, beautiful hands
And form them into a powerful fist
That could penetrate any wall

Oh to be a Black woman!

I'd be a mystery
To look at me would be to see my history
You would know from my being
That my foremothers were survivors
You could see from my genetics
I have fought and conquered rivals
Oh to be a member of this clan
To be a member of this tribe
To be a walking testament
Of what I possess inside

To know I'd have the secret codes
To secret DNA
Brings fear and secret worries
this sleeping giant may reemerge some day

(whisper) Oh I wish I was a Black woman!

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Although I am tall
I am smaller than you
Baby fat accentuates my curves
Where yours are straight
I have observed many a sunrise
and heard the tick tock of my primal clock
Strong enough to face devilish threats head on
Yet sensitive enough to cry over the slightest insult
Consulting friends and family to establish support
Giggling with girlfriends despite attempts to present
A more mature persona, I am still a girl
with dreams and a brighter outlook
Chewing on my number two pencil in the back of the class
I still ask "what next?"
And have a crush on my chivalrous knight
With hopes that he might
Remember the codes of old
And maybe even open the got-damn door for me
Even though I can easily do this for myself
I still believe my momma
when she said that I was special
And hope to find someone who sees what my daddy did
when I was just a kid
Back when I didn't have a woman's figure to entice those
Who don't know me so well
I am still a girl, not short of a woman's glow
Although I can still play a mean game of chinese checkers
and long to hop onto the double dutch line
Without my breasts falling off from all of the bouncing around
Or eat snow cones so fast I get a brain freeze
My age betrays me and I watch my boyfriend with envy
Playing tackle football with his friends
Or leaving an unplanned basketball game at the gym
And me, too feminine to join in
Ten years ago, I would have at least asked
But now I'd have to beg and I don't beg
I already one has to explain
It was over for me the moment I looked the part
Most definitely a woman
Just with a girl's heart


Sunday, October 07, 2007

My core is strong
And I stand on this long line of misinformed consumers
Buying into the waste that we allow to control us
Forced to vote between the lesser of two evils
As if voting for evil in any form
is better than choosing God
Well I choose God, in complex simplicity
We are blessed with the option of
Sweating to raise vegetation from dust
Warmed in the sun and soaked in wisdom's wetness
Drenched by His design and turned into
Two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen
By our overly complicated thirst for knowledge and control
So that a land abundant with the seeds for growth
Can leave so many starving.
I am afraid.


Life's Clock

You spit on me. Right on my forehead. While talking to me. You just spit on my forehead and then turned around and walked away, your high water khaki pants wedged tightly between your butt cheeks. It's probaly the braces you wear, I think to myself as I pick up my torture steak and follow after you to the back of the lane to mop up the spilled ketchup on aisle five.

"You can take out the trash and refill the candy display," you tell me through the silver cage imprisoning your teeth surrounded by miniature volcanic eruptions peppering your face like a third grade science project. "I don't care that there are rats back there, you have to take the trash bag all the way to the back of the trash room," you say with annoyance. I sigh and invision the clock. Even in my day dreams it has stopped. You do an army style about face and without even turning to look at me belch out "you have customers."

My day is spent rushing about a seven by seven foot space filled with cigarettes and candy. Hours of service melt into a collage of thoughts, a steady drumbeat of climatic highs and lows until you reemerge from the shit hole that you refer to as your office to offer criticism on the simplicity of refilling the coffee cups when they are low.

For a moment, this is my reality. Just a moment. This is an hour, a blink of God's eye. A distant memory, that I can recall at leisure. And with this recollection, I see my reflection in your retina. A beautiful, young, Black college student exploding with potential. Gracefully pushing a mop, elongated torso reaching for the pack of condoms and fitting that stupid uniform in ways you didn't know possible. Laughing with patrons and seeing a future beyond the parking lot. Rushing toward opportunity at the end of the day. Smiling bright with the security of knowing that I have the power to start the first day of the rest of my life at any given moment. I would hate me too, if I were you. I am already that person. Looking at you, yet looking past you as I drop a dollar into your tip jar and you smile weakly wondering what I do for a living. Wondering where I go when the door drifts shut behind me and clicks into place locking you in. Wondering why the gods smiled on me, forgetting the hour that I put in on life's clock. But I remember.


Sunday, September 23, 2007

If You Think the End is Near

If you think the end is near. You're already too late

If you think the end is near, then you have taken the bait

The fate of many worlds rests upon the cold shoulders of those too high above the rest of us

To care. We have relied on a depleting sources which one day won't be there when these sources are a gross imitation of what was once a birthright, like food or air turned into capital, put into boxes, stamped, taxed, mailed and limited by human law. So that those not worthy groan with the anxiety of knowing food and shelter exists but the difference between a meal and hunger a home and the street is greater than physical distance but distance of the human mind which is beyond the binds that tie us to each other. I used to wonder why I had to eat all my food because some skinny African child who looked like me except with a bloated belly, surrounded by flies was starving in some foreign land I've never seen. Until I realized that child was me. And then I wondered how this image has been transferred to my tv screen via some 30 thousand dollar camera, 10 thousand dollar trip for crew and producer and 2 thousand dollar audio equipment and no one could hand these children a sandwich. "Watch as little Najir drinks the contaminated water." For the sake of pure journalism, we accept his fate. If you think the end is near, you're already too late.

You have taken the bait if youve ever blamed the poor for being poor and not changing a society where even college graduates can't get a good job anymore. We've been fighting on both sides since the beginning of time. Thinking that years have made progress, blinking back tears as testaments to our dedication these truths appear to be self evident, that I don't give a f about you and neither does your next door neighbor or our president, not just this one but 43 down the line, thinking that if we had a woman or a black man in charge things would be fine, but every human can be bought at a price. Every great man has been offered his slice and I am afraid of the corruption that surrounds me, although I have been born into a race I am not of it. So when I hear songs that exploit my human sisters on the basis of capitalism I do not shake my head in shame, but in empathy. Because I cannot sympathize. These are not my people. And when on the news a young boy is shot, or raped, I shed a tear for this sad species, but I can no longer relate. Because I don't think the end is near, I think it's here and it's too late.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Who Needs Friends

Who needs friends, I ask myself as I hide my feelings and reveal a smile.

Tuck inner emotions away, safe from display

Understanding that no one will and with that

I must make my peace

Though uneasily making plans

That I know won't pan out

Because no day is a good day

When you're walking through the valley

of the shadow of death

Who needs friends, I ask myself

When I can't find the words, or the courage to say


When I can't find the motivation or the energy

to go

When the bills come fast, but the money comes slow

And the last thing I need to do is shop, club, dine, drive, spend, chill, or explain myself to a

jury of my peers who need a valid argument as to

why I didn't have the means to dress for the occasion

When my life is falling apart behind closed doors

I ask myself, who needs friends when I'm

Forced into a corner because of circumstances out of my control

The only thing that sustains me and gives a great excuse is work

But when I look into the faces of the people I hold close

I ask myself, who needs friends?

When I got fired, and you got a raise

When I'm getting blame, and you get the praise

When I can barely eat, and my mind's in a daze

When it's raining outside and my only protection is a wet blanket

And a whimper comes out in the place of a holler

What's in store for my life, must be planned down to the dollar

And people wonder why I'm nowhere to be found

How can I explain it this time around?

I'll be there, I say and hang up the phone

There's nothing close to the feeling of being alone

And when I cancel again and again and again

And get up the energy to try to blend in

Conversation is light, yet I'm crying within

It's then that I ask myself

Who needs friends me?

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Should I be ashamed to mention your name?
A little embarrassed at my past actions
And past attempts to justify the obvious truths you unyieldingly deny
I stepped out with confidence and took a deep breath
I am a woman of value, a woman of depth
And what that means, is there's no turning back
I said what I meant, I must leave it like that
Still I couldn't help but to get a little swept and carried away
Not that I believed everything that you say
But no one wants to sleep with their eyes open all of the time
We want to close them at some point
And dream the dreams that rest our minds
Rude awakening, like freezing ice water dumped
It's only cold at first, until your whole body goes numb
Then there's no way of leaving with regards or with finesse
I can only go quickly and try to gather what is left
Because you and I both know this
I am the quest, I am the catch and
a woman of value, and a woman of depth
So I walk, and I strut
And my head is held high
But in silence, in secret
I ask myself Why?