Set Us Free

We have been set free in literal terms...No we do not wake up at the crack of dawn each morning, faced with a breakfast of scraps the master and his family did not want. A breakfast of pig intestines, pig ears, pork fat and watery grits. No we did not walk out to the fields with handmade shoes flapping off of our feet, nor are we walking into fields in the blistering hot sun, barefoot. No we are not picking cotton until our fingers bleed. No we are not working hunched over with our children strapped to our backs, hot sun burning their faces. But we are still not free.
  We are belittled each and everyday, by a new opinion, hypothesis, independent variable, dependent variable. Last year we were told we couldn't keep a man, that men did not want us. They told us that men of our own race couldn't stand us. This year we are told that we are unattractive. That our features are a curse, and that we ranked low. We are being told each and everyday that we are worthless.
 We relax our hair we are laughed at. We wear it kinky we are frowned at. We wear a weave, we are considered tacky. We grow our hair long, we are judged by our appearance. We wear our hair short and cropped, we are stereostyped. If we are light skinned, we are used for our looks. If we are dark skinned we are put down for our looks. If we are thin we don't have enough ass and breasts for you. If we are curvy we are too big for you. What do you want us to do? Our beauty is so exotic, so different, you can't catch up to it. You can't even define it. So you tear down what you don't understand. It is frustrating isn't it? Now black men have gone weak with influence, because now they don't even want us. According to them, we are too independent. Too needy. Too strong. Too weak. Our standards are too low. Our standards are too high. Not submissive enough. Too submissive. Which one is it? You can't decipher it. Because we don't have the problem. You have the problem. Look in the mirror. Reach within yourself and you pull out the root that is causing you to hate yourself deep within, that you have to tear down your queens from the inside out.

Pillow Talk

What happend to us? When did our love's heart stop beating? When did it stop breathing? Your mental kisses have dried up, and your hugs have grown cold. We would lay in the bed for hours, and just talk. Although we never physically laid  next to one another, we still mentally held each other. Where did that memory go? I wanted this to last forever, and ever, ever....I don't believe in all good things coming to an end. If I speak it into existence it will never end, right? So why is this love we have not worth a fight? Oh, so you want to act like you don't feel the same way? I can act the same, but I don't live lies, and I am certainly not fraudulent about my feelings. I melt in your arms, sigh to your lips, my heart skip beats to your fingertips, running across my arms....I can't even began to explain....At first I felt betrayed, then sad, then I didn't care, then I started caring, and now I care. I thought it was me, thinking "maybe it's me" ....But then I realized it was never me, it was you. You all along. I don't believe in asking anyone to change. I learned that I am just too strong for you. But then again I'm not sorry.

Waiting in Vain...

Waiting for who? The right one? You will be waiting forever in vain. The right one is who you deem fit, not a soul mate or a person you're destined to spend the rest of your life with. Waiting for what? Waiting to just bump into a person on the street, he/she looks at you, you look at him/her and then smile, and you spend the rest of your life together? It doesn't work like that...At least, I don't think. Men out are out here approaching everyone who they think could be their soulmate. And women are thinking that any man that approaches them are their soulmate. Then when they find out they're not, everyone gets a broken heart. Just stop waiting. My life certainly isn't getting put on hold to wait and marry someone that I know is not my soulmate. I am one of a kind, so there is no one that complements me. It is more peaceful living alone, than living with some asshole who doesn't give a two rotten apples about your outlook on life. Make peace with the fact that you may die alone. You were born alone.

Freeze

Mind is blank, I can't think. I'm sitting on the rock, near the water's edge trying to piece together what has been pulled apart. Why is it that I never get chances handed to me, I think to myself. But I am wrong, maybe I never take chances at the opportunity. I'm trying to be open minded about certain circumstances but I am angry I can't change it. All things happen for a reason, but is it really that serious? The water ripples below, and I follow the pattern of the waves....I am still trying to understand my destiny. Why I am I here in this situation, right now, right here. What is the point? I say aloud to no one in particular. Am I cursed? No...I am blessed. Never cursed. But why do I feel ashamed? What can I do? I can only stay honest and truthful...Maybe...I don't know. I'm only human I feel what I feel, when I feel, how I feel. Do you feel me?

In The Rain

I'm standing here and thunder rumbles in the distance, and rain is falling hard. I have a decision to make, but I'm too scared to choose the decision I want. I'm not afraid of the person, I'm afraid of the aftermath. My clothes and my hair is drenched, and my breathing gets heavier. I'm looking at his outstretched hand, waiting for me to put my hand in his. I want to put my hand in his, and I want to follow his lead. He cocks his head to the side, as if he's trying to read me. My thoughts. My hesitance. I'm thinking about the aftermath. I'm cold. His embrace looks inviting. I put my hand in his and he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. His shirt is wet, soaked, and he is cold. I shiver....He opens the car door and I sit in the car, exhausted, cried out, and weak. Too tired and weak to fight anymore, too cried out to cry anymore, sick of running. Time to play the game of fate, faith, and trust. I am scared silly, to put my heart in man's possession....But I have done it before, and when it was handled carelessly, did I not get back up again? Did the pieces of my heart not fall back together again? So what makes this so different? In my mind I think I can't survive another heartbreak, but I know I can. But who wants to go through the motions of that? I'm sitting here weak and weary, exhausted from fighting and running from this man's love. And he just kept chasing me......I just kept running and now I am all run out. So here he has caught me in the rain. Standing here, rain falling all over me, soaking wet. Catching my death. I give up. I'm sitting here with him beside me in this car....And he says...."I promise you....I promise...You will not regret spending the rest of your life with me".

Don't Say It.

I can't help it, I tried to change but I can only be myself....I think it's artistic, and artsy and beautiful the way it is intertwined  I don't want to say the word, for fear that people might run and hide. I don't know why. Don't we procreate that way? But wait a minute. When we meet someone. Is that the first thing we thing we think about? I don't like just the act of it. I love the emotional part of it. When your heart beats together, your love for each other intensifies and electricity sparks off of each of you. I love that about it. It isn't everything, if feelings aren't involved. Feelings is that what makes it so creative, and so....What can I call it? I don't want to say that word either. I just don't want to scare people off. But why does this scare people off. Because people abuse it so much. It's a beautiful gift, and people don't know how to treat it. It's God's gift to mankind. Maybe I'm just a sap. I have a vivid imagination. I love to think about it. And write about it. Wait. I'm not a addict. Because addicts will go after anything. I hate when people abuse it. And it's meaningless. I'm sorry...I'm rambling. I love to kiss. But kissing is meaningless if there is no vibe there. I love exotic things. I love the rain. Remember the movie "The Notebook" when they kissed in the rain. I love that. I think it would have been more exotic with "color". If you get my drift. Holding hands, are good. Because the electricity of your attraction travels through the both of you. So when you kiss, the nerves in your lips ignite....Causing blood to flow below. If you get my drift. I won't say what I'm talking about. I don't want to lose my readers. They say it isn't everything. But it depends on how you cherish it. It is a gift from God. So cherish it. I'm still not going to say it.

Flustered

When he walked in my body heat rose to the top of my head, and I felt warmth on the bottom of my feet. My mouth became dry and I broke out into a light sweat. I became shy, and my mind started wondering trying to keep my eyes off of him. I began to fidget with my lipstick that just so happen to be in my hand at the time that he walked in. I just finished applying a coat to my lips when I heard the bell to the cafe chime, alerting a customer, regular or new. I looked back and boy was he a looker, that night. Relaxed fit jeans, a windbreaker jacket, and his motorcycle helmet. I don't know what got me riled up more; his freshly shaven head, his full shaped up beard, or the fact that he drove his motorcycle here. He turned his head, and his full lips curved in a sly smile as he looked straight at me and said "Hello." Oh my Gosh. He sipped his coffee and watched me for what seemed like five minutes. I looked away. Looked back. He is still looking. I smile at him. He smiles back. He finishes his coffee, puts it on the counter. He looks at me intently. He nods his head at me to come to him. As if I'm under a hypnotic spell, I float towards him. He takes my hand we go towards the back lounge. There's a record playing in the background. Maxwell. Fistful of Tears. He draws me close and we start to dance. Real slow. I feel his hand on the small of my back and his fingers are kneading the small of my back. Oh my. I feel as though I am dreaming. His lips, moist and full are showering my neck with little kisses.I am his. He has earned every inch of me. Paid in full.....We sway to the music and......"Maam. We are closing". I wake up. Im sitting at the table of the cafe...Where I dozed off...What a dream.

My Name is not Susan

MY love for you runs deep like the pacific ocean, over one thousand kilometers deep. So blue and so clear, my love for you professes with every heartbeat. But why must you hurt me? You blame me...For her past transgressions. Her lies....Her deceit. I show you everyday that is not what lies within me. I gave you me. All of me. And not in vain. I gave you my heart on a platter and because of her you are steadily spitting it back in my face. Look at me is it her you see? They say the eyes are the window to the soul, so you when you look in my eyes do you see hers? How can you confuse her with me when I show you and love on you constantly. Im tired. Im tired of paying for her mistakes. Im your present and I want to be your future. But I can't be consumed with being blended with her.

Would You Rather Me.....

Would you rather me straighten my hair? Put a super strong relaxer in it. Let it sit until festering sores popped up, but I would have a head full of lustrous straight strands. Hair you could "easily" play in? Would you rather me change my diet, from healthy to starving? So I can lose these dangerous curves, you look at privately, so you can show me off publicly? Baby, would you rather me finance plastic surgery? So I can fix this nose of mine. It's so flat, wide, and emberassing. And my lips.....So full, so voluptous.....so ethnic. You want me to buy some of that cake soap? To turn the notches of my skin tone, jut a little bit lighter??? No....Satan is a liar. I am as beautiful as the statue of Cleopatra, that sits in the museum in Egypt. I am as perfect as the first rose that sprouts in Spring. Tall, Venti cup of caramel latte that is tempting to sip from. Who's heart pumps blood, love for every color of the rainbow. Beautiful black king I bet you would have been better human. What kind of human being puts down one race ( that happens to be their own race) and uses other races (If it isnt black it's automatically the superior race) to forget about ones own race? You have hate in your blood? Runs deep through your veins, and secretly you pray to your God that you wake up another race.....

If You Seek Stacey (Written to the Luxurious beat)

You can find her on a beach in a bikini, drinking a virgin strawberry flavored martini. With a laptop in her lap and a flower in her hair. Red glossy lips, long lustrous lashes, a mini pocket bible, in her pocketbook how glamorous. You can find her at a dinner table, drinking water, with a fruit salad, smiling at the waitress because she know how hard she's had it. Gets up from the table and leaves a generous tip, thanking God for all of her blessings. You can find her strolling through rodeo drive, shopping endlessly. Manolo Blahniks, Chloe, Prada, Louis, Juicy...But passes her blessings selflessly. You can find her on her knees giving praise and praying keeping her eyes and ears, and mind on the only One who can give her perfect peace. If you seek Stacey you can find her in the front, close to the alter because she understands that prayers are always needed. She doesn't mind working for Christ, and her ministries multiply, and she can't seem to express how thankful she is. Her love for her Savior glows, and she just can't seem to get enough of His love.
If you seek Stacey you can find her driving with the top down, cruising through the streets. She knows her candy apple red Mercedes, is nothing short of a blessing, this is why she doesn't mind sowing seeds and tithing generously. She has worked so hard, praying, and now she gets blessed back. Stacey flies first class internationally in order to spread the gospel of Christ. The kind of life she lives is such a blessing, and she is thankful.....