Subliminal Shots

Just because I speak subliminally that doesn't mean I am afraid, scared, nervous, or paranoid of an outcome. It means I don't want to hurt your feelings and you haven't taken me to the point where I view you as less than human. Really, I just don't want to verbally stick a knife through your cranium, fuck your whole life up make you evaluate self in a mirror of shame. Although I'm tired of your foolish ways, fucking with me thinking my time, my energy is a game. I must admit I have anger issues, bitterness, uneasiness, and a zero tolerance for human life. So I take my anger and temper out on spoken word, blogging, writing cyphers, stories and articles on bitch ass niggers, bitch ass bitches, and shady motherfuckers that could I have killed, resuscitated and then murdered twice. My whole attitude is like fuck your whole existence, I don't see you or hear you, for what, I don't like any of you. So this message is subliminally yours, I hope you enjoy it.

 Fuck you. There was a method to my madness and I had to teach your lesson and I think that lesson was a blessing for the both of us. I made you sit and think about how time is money and money is time and to stop fucking with people just for the hell of it. I could have did much worse.  An enemy of my enemy is automatically my friend, I could have sent them to you, set you up for being the snake you really were and exposed you. But I decided to stay cool and be a bitch, embarrass you and take the charge for the whole team of women who hate you for using, abusing, and dragging them. You will forever be known as the "Rainbow fucking kind" and I will be forgotten as the "childish bitch that had a temper tantrum".

And as for you...You arrogant sonofabitch, no life having parasite, wannabe rich, celebrity you're not nor will you ever be. I'm the only reason why people even heard of that bullshit magazine. I'm the reason why you're hits were high, you gained popularity, I'm the reason why sponsors even looked in your direction. You turned Hollywood, forgot where you came from and I can guarantee my entire bank account that you sold out just for L.A's prototype selection. I tried to be nice, you're just a fatherless child trying to prove something in life. The fact that you have no talent, aspirations but to sit in front of a camera and look pretty. Or to sit behind a camera and chase after celebrities  hell if you would have acted right I could have taken you to the top with me. My writing brought all the investors to the yard and you couldn't handle a lady doing better than you at something you birthed and created. But I forgive you, you can't help it. How dare I expect a man of such pride to kneel down and kiss the ring of a queen with the anointed gift of words on paper, screen or magazine. Watch the Throne. You feel me?

Yes, I am angry, hurt, bitter, black, female, sick and tired of the bullshit. Sick of trying to be that perfect fit into someone else's equation and busting my fucking back for others who don't appreciate it...My attitude is fuck you and the pussy you crawled out of. Speak the mind or the heart will explode..I spoke my mind and my heart could still explode. 

Snapped

Snapping does not have to consist of yelling, hitting, fighting, or cursing. I decided to reverse the way I snap by switching my attitude up by reversing. I decided to walk away and remain content and show love to those who have my best interest...At heart those who never have never part..with me whether I'm doing bad or good and when clearly I'm misunderstood. Those who have stuck with me when I was literally snapping, negative, acting out and not giving a fuck about those who really did care for me. I thank God for the loved ones He placed in my life who was honest with me and told me they had a bone to pick with me. I thank God for those He placed in my life that hurt me to my heart. The ones with blood running through my veins, the ones who consistently caused me pain, mental allergic reactions to the stab wounds in my back infected with more constant lies. 

 Money was my silent partner, the mediator, the middle man, who whispered to me that the more I give the more love I would be given. But as it disintegrated, love turned livid, dissolving into smoke and ice filled hatred. 

  Pain turned into anger, anger turned into pain as more knives entered my heart and back by the people I trusted. But thank God for deliverance, wake up calls, and clearer sight. I was in darkness, pitch blackness and thick forests. Lost, bewildered and confused when all along Christ was my guide and I just didnt know it. I thought I was alone, lost, abandoned and boy was I wrong, little did I know my Father the King was keeping me strong. At the end of the day I inwardly snapped...Turned my back and kept my attention on those that mattered to me..Those who would never hurt me...Actions speak louder than words and I am cashing in on words and not actions...Wondering why I am filled with bitterness and dissatisfaction. Snapped by focusing on success, my happiness, and hard work. Snapped by praying, praising and thanking Him for saving my life. Snapped by contentment, comfort and basking in love from people. 

Guard The Throne

Our crown was paid for by many queens of royalty whose crowns were snatched away  unlawfully. From the Queen of Egypt to the original Boleyn Girl from the last Roman Empire, our crowns were paid for in full. The invisible crown that adorns our head will only become visible to others by upholding pride and dignity. This is why our crowns are disappearing. Crowns are being snatched verbally we allow ourselves to be slandered orally. Answering and laughing to the word "Bitch" during a shindig of giggles and shits. Ignoring the sting of a slap that caused the split on your beautiful lips. Trying to ignore the bruise on your heart from the acid of anger, bitterness, and disrespect that spew from between his lips.
  Falling for his jedi mind tricks, games, and reverse psychology. Questioning yourself in the mirror because you feel stupid due to his trips to make you feel guilty. Lying on your back and letting sweet, decadent orgasms speak for your emotions and heart and afterwards lay curled in the fetal position in tears because his leaving while you were sleeping emotionally ripped you apart.
   Its time to guard the throne your strong, female ancestors fought and died over. The crown that adorns your beautiful head has collected dust, cobwebs, and rusted over from years of being hidden in darkness. Reveal your crown of precious gold, jewels, and gems that gleam in the eyes of the imposter that wants to take over.

Letter to My Future Husband

Dear You,

Though I know who I want you to be, what I want you to be, and how I want you to be, I don't know who you are. I just know that the holy spirit told me that you were created and put on this earth just for me. I know it sounds cliche but there is no other way to describe it.
  I know in my heart that you have been hurt before just as I have. The fear of falling in love again is just too much to bear. To place my heart in someone's hands for them to be careless with it, is beyond me. I don't want you to be afraid of me. Nor I afraid of you.
  With Christ in the center of our lives we can heal and overcome our heartbreak. We can overcome anything. With my strength and yours we can not be defeated.
All I want is you and no one else.
I will no longer give your "stuff" away. So many men masquerade as you, causing me to get confused. When it is revealed that they are imposter's, I feel used. I need you.
I need your arms around me, lips upon me, your seed inside of me. So we can birth our own descendent's. I want you. I want you right next to me. Your baby growing inside of me. Your love surrounding me.
Patience is a virtue. A test hard to pass and so many women end up as ribs misplaced in the wrong rib cage. But I refuse to be misplaced. I fight and remain steadfast so that we can be conjoined. Together.

Love,

Your Future Wife

My Ex Man's Best Friend

I never intended to wind up on my back, legs wide, hands gripping my hair with my eyes rolled in the back of my head. I never intended to spend my rainy afternoon gripping the muscular back of a man that was supposed to be off limits. Silk sheets twisted in a knot at  the foot of the bed, fitted sheets hanging midway to the floor. In between epileptic like fits of orgasms I ask myself repeatedly "What Am I Doing Here?" mentally. Sweat drips in my eye, burns a little from the salt and I imagine fire and brimstone raining down in the bedroom around me. I want to push him off of me, slap him, and rush out into the pouring rain to wash the impurity of we were doing off of me. But what would be the point? I want him and he wants me, the pleasure we mix together is supernatural. Every body part and organ was made just for me. Even though he is my ex-man's best friend and I told myself I would never ever cross that line, I couldn't help the magnetic attraction that pulled me to him in the first place.
  He knew my man, his best friend messed up a good thing, threw away the precious jewel in his possession. Any sane person would pick up a bag of one hundred bills if found right? He asked me out of the blue after countless times of telling him this was the wrong thing to do. What if it was me wearing the other shoe? But then again it has been me minus the best friend part. The countless times he has lied and cheated on me, and the countless times his best friend covered for him. He knew it would only be a matter of time before my man lost me and he could step in and claim me like a lost prize. Every thing about ex man and his best friend was so different all the way down to the size. Where my man was selfish, his best friend was selfless, what he lacked his best friend gained. My ex's oral game was quick and boring but his best friend's is insane.
 My ex-man was cheap, practical and predictable where his best friend had a taste for the finer things. My wrist sparkled in the darkness of the room with the newest gift he showered me with. Morally my conscious ate at me because a woman should never cross the line into friendship territory but deep within my heart I knew I wasn't willing to give up the goods. So I guess I will accept being the horrible person who has fallen in love with my Ex-man's best friend.

My Kitty Kat Talked To Me...

My kitty kat spoke to me and this is what she said: "You keep me clean, odor and bacteria free, I have never had to worry about any itchies or scratchies, I am not bruised and torn, loose or worn, and from the beginning I have been hello kitty pink. You are so particular about who you allow to even touch me. You keep me well groomed, sweet, and perfumed and you will never have to worry about this pussy failing you. But how I miss being french kissed, licked and petted, and that strong connection with the right erection. Crying thick and soapy tears whenever my sponge or my head is tickled and lulling you fast asleep. But I appreciate the good, self-love you always make time to give me. And whenever you do run into a "Him", you always make sure you protect me. I appreciate you for keeping me healthy, loved, and disease free."
 I smiled and beamed proud of the words that she whispered to me. Although I've had some what we call some loose, and fast days she still found it in her heart to forgive me. But then again I don't think it ever bothered her because if it pleasured me, it pleasured her. But if it didn't then I know she was too mad with me. You feel me? I have always believed that if you take care of your kat, she will take care of you. Never a dry season, never loose. Never takes too long to cry real tears unless there is something wrong with the dude. And when she cry out, she makes damn sure I do too. The seratonin that releases in my brain when we have an O relieves my stress, sometimes I ask myself do we even need penetration sex? Sometimes I don't think so but she craves that penetration and the perfect fit of a nice sized hooked dick. But in the meantime she settles for the self love I shower her with. Fingerella and her lovely daughters satisfies us just as well but in the mean time, large prints in slacks, relaxed fit jeans and basketball shorts is the eye candy that makes her mouth water. We are just waiting for the right man, and our pipes he will slaughter.

Bonded ( My Stay In The Hospital)

My week in the hospital had me in awe, stunned and a little shocked. As I sat in group therapy with women my color, my age, my attitude and my situation we had too much in common. It was like I was looking at myself in the mirror. The only difference were our features. We all had one goal set in mind that didn't come into fruition. I guessed that God had a plan for us all and he definitely weren't through with us yet. During a card game of spades, in between sips of water, decaf weak coffee and low calorie unsweetend Kool-Aid we vented to one another. We told each other things we didn't tell our counselor. Things we didn't dare mention out loud in the middle of group.
 How we still felt the knife in our back and our hearts that the very ones that birthed us, helped produce us, that we loved on, took care of, and that was suppose to love us back had plunged into us. We lashed out, tried to snatch the knife out but all that was removed was the handle. The blade would not budge. Sick and tired of the pain, the anguish, the turmoil, and the continuous abuse we each in our own way decided to end the hurt the best way we knew how. Well that didn't work because now each of our asses were sitting at a table, with no discharge date, playing spades, watching Basketball Wives in the community room of the hospital, exchanging war stories. Although our complexions were several shades different from one another; chocolate, butterscotch, caramel, vanilla, we all had the same ashen look. The look you get when you're not getting enough vitamin D from sunlight.
 We were all getting catty and agitated with the nurses because we were catching cabin fever and we were sick and tired of looking at them and eating the same food day after day. Tired of their condescending remarks when they took our vitals. Tired of sitting in eight groups per day. Tired of not having access to our cell phones. Tired of waiting to use the one office phone sitting on the wall while somebody cupcaked on the phone. "Phone Whore" was whispered out of the mouth of one my "peers". I giggled.
  Each day I grew closer to my female peers because although I didn't know them, they understood me. I fetched paper towels and lended a shoulder, we all empathized with one another, we cursed and vented about what drove over the edge until we ran out of curse words. And penis. We laughed and talked about penis. How we pretty much could live without that cursed body part for the rest of our days. I mean, hell...Penis is what drives every woman crazy as all hell. Even if it wasn't totally involved in all of our situations, it had a teeny weeny part in it. We all laughed and swore to not touching penis for months. Every last one of us confessed to having a broken heart.
  Hell, wasn't it penis that penetrated the wrong woman and got her pregnant and put us in this world sticking us with a poor excuse for a mother? Yeah. We swore off penis for a few months that day, playing spades. Being in the hospital was our wake up call. We vowed to each other to make a change, a change for the better because nobody was going to ever bring us to that dark hole again.
As the days passed by we laughed, joked, flirted with the male nurses. It was all in fun. We bonded.