Things you never asked...

...you never asked what I do. You never asked why I liked you.You never asked what was my hearts desire. You never asked what sets my minds thoughts on fire. You never asked about my past. You never asked when I was kissed last. You never asked about my life. You never asked how I handle strife. You never asked my favorite color. You never asked how my family treated one another. You never asked about the foods I enjoy. You never asked what it's like to be a girl boi. You never asked why I don't sleep at night. You never asked if I was alright. You never asked why I cry before I slumber. You never asked about the things that make me wonder. You never asked these things about me because you have no respect for the beauty you see!

While I was writing you a letter...

Large yellow legal pad, my favorite cheap pen with blue ink that just slides across the paper, see I wanted to talk to you but you didn't want to talk to me, so I decided to write you a letter. When I put the pen to the paper, I lost the words that I wanted to write, I mean should I write about how I miss my dying sister, or about the hard day I had that made me truly miss her, or maybe about how thinking of you made me smile outta no where. Should I write about how your chocolate skin makes me wanna lick on you to see if you taste as rich, sweet, or thick as my favorite chocolate treat? Or maybe should I write about my favorite color or all the things I've always wanted to tell ya, like how I grew up, or how I want to be a writer, or maybe how when you smile when we talk makes my heart skip a beat, or maybe the way it sounds when you say my name so sweat. Should I write about how I think of you at night, when I'm laying there on the edge of sleep, how it makes me smile an wanna rush the night just to awake and hear your voice again. Or maybe I should write about how your courage to step out on faith makes me wanna move mountains in my life. I scratch my head and think oh maybe I could write an tell you all about my comic books, or how I draw funny pictures with my own insight. Should I tell you that I am an ordained minister, or that I went to seminary school because I thought God didn't love me. Should I tell you my deepest fears, or the about the nights I've spent in tears. Maybe I should write about all the times you've made me weak in my knees or how the way you make the days fly pay with the slightest of ease!

When I thought about all the things I should write you because you wouldn't give me a call, my phone rang and she, she was the one that was there for me so she heard it all!!! :-)

Am I Blue? By Alice Walker (part 1)

For about three years my companion and I rented a small house in the country that on the edge of a large meadow that appeared to from the end of our deck straight into the mountains. The mountains, however, were quite far away, and between us and them there was, in fact, a town. It was one of the many pleasant aspects of the house that you never really were aware of this.

It was a house of many windows, low, wide, nearly floor to ceiling in the living room, which faced the meadow, and it was from one of these that I first saw our closet neighbor, a large white horse, cropping grass, flipping its mane, and ambling about- not over the entire meadow, which stretched well out of sight of the house, but over the five or so fenced-in acres that were next to the twenty-odd that we had rented. I soon learned that the horse, whose name was Blue, belonged to a man who lived in another town, but was boarded by our neighbors next door. Occasionally, one of the children, usually a stocky teen-ager, but sometimes a much younger girl or boy, could be seen riding Blue. They would appear in the meadow, climb up on his back, ride furiously for ten or fifteen minutes. then get off, slap Blue on the flanks, and not be seen again for a month or more.

There were many apple tress in our yard, and one by the fence that Blue could almost reach. We were soon in the habit of feeding him apples, which he relished, especially because because by the middle of summer the meadow grasses - so green and succulent since January - had dried stalks half-heartedly. Sometimes he would stand very still just by the apple tree, and when one of us came out he would whinny, snort loudly, or stamp the ground. This meant, of course: I want an apple.

It was quite wonderful to pick a few apples, or collect those that has fallen to the ground overnight, and patiently hold them, one by one up to his large, toothy mouth. I remained as thrilled as a child by this flexible dark lips, huge, cubelike teeth that crunched the apples, core and all, with such finality, and his high, broad-breasted enormity; beside which, I felt small indeed. When I was a child, I used to ride horses, and was especially friendly with one named Nan until the day I was riding and my brother deliberately spooked her and I was thrown, head first, against the truck of a tree. When I came to, I was in bed and my mother was bending worriedly over me; we silently agreed that perhaps horseback riding was not the safest sport for me. Since then I have walked, and prefer walking to horse back riding - but I had forgotten the depth of feeling one could see in horses' eyes.

I was therefore unprepared for for the expression in Blue's. Blue was lonely. Blue was horribly lonely and bored. I was not shocked that this should be the case; five acres to tramp by yourself, endlessly, even in the most beautiful of meadows- and his was- cannot provide many interesting, events, and once the rainy season turned to dry that was about it. No, I was shocked that I had forgotten that human animals as an nonhuman animals can communicate quite well; if we are brought up around animals as children we take this for granted. By the time the time we are adults we no longer remember. However, the animals have not changed. They are in fact completed creations (st least the seem to be, so much more than we) who are not likely to change; it is their nature to express? And they do. And, generally speaking, the are ignored.

After giving Blue the apples, I would wander back to the house, aware that he was observing me. Were more apples not forthcoming then? Was that to be hi sole entertainment for the day? My partner's small son had decided he wanted to learn how to piece a quilt; we worked in silence on our respective squares as I thought. . .

Well, about slavery: about white children, who were raised by black people, who knew their first all-accepting love from a black women, and then, when they were twelve or so, were told they must "forget" the deep levels of communication between themselves and "mammy" that they knew. Later they would be able to relate quite calmly, "My old mammy way sole to another family." "My old mammy was ___________." Fill in the blank. Many more years later a white woman would say : "I can't understand these Negroes, these blacks. What do the want? They're so different from us."

And about the Indians, consider to be "like animals" by the "settlers" ( a very benign euphemism for what they actually were), who did not understand their descriptions as a compliment.

And about the thousands of American men who marry Japanese, Korean, Filipina, and other non-English-speaking women and of how happy they report they are, "blissfully," until their brides learn to speak English, at which point the marriages tend to fall apart, What then did the men see, when they looked into the eyes of the women they married, before they could speak English? Apparently only their own reflections.

I thought of society's impatience with the young. "Why are they playing music so loud?" Perhaps the children have listened to much of the music of oppressed people their parents dances to before they were born, with its passionate but soft cries for acceptance and love, and they have wondered why their parents failed to hear.

I do not know how long Blue had inhabited his five beautiful, boring acres before we moved into our house; a year after we had arrived- and had also traveled to other valleys, other cities- he was still there.

Taking Stock

Today I took stock, I thought about how many times I cried while I should’ve been smiling. I thought about how many times I felt like crying but couldn’t. I thought about the people I made cry and the many of those times I felt no regret until today. I thought about how many times tears were all I could manage to show because I felt so lost. I thought about all the crying I’ve yet to do. I thought about all the movies, books, stories I’ve heard that made me cry. I thought about my story and the few people that only know parts of it that cried for me. I thought about being a child crying because I wanted to be some where, any where else.

Today I took stock, on all the things my eyes had seen as a child, my ears had heard. I thought about how I’d die if my own child had ever seen, heard or lived through those things that I had. I thought about the pain I felt being a child of abuse and neglect, how lost I was with no one that cared to help me, save me, for at least a night. How many children have I tried to save? How many children have I seen living the same life in which I prayed to God to let me sleep and never wake to again? I took stock on how many broken adults I’ve meant that didn’t even live a portion of what I had. How had they become so broken? How can someone born of a married couple, raised in a loving family, raised in the suburbs be so damaged?

Today I took stock, on all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, moments I’ve wasted spending them with people who treated me just as bad as my parents did as I was growing up. How much I’d loved them, how much I’d done for them, how much I’d sacrificed for them. Every time I’ve tried my best to make a smile come across the face of someone who cared little or nothing about my emotions or well being. Why had I done these things, for people like this? Why am I repeating this pattern of oppression? When my eyes see clearly the path unto which the road is leading, why do I keep walking it?

Today I took stock, not in what I have, had, or accomplished in my lifetime, but how much I didn’t do. For every time I was silent when I should have been talking. For every time I was talking when I should have been silent. For every time I should have been taking action yet I was inactive. For every wrong that I saw but didn’t attempt to make right, for every right I saw but didn’t attempt to complement. For the things I let go that I wasn’t ready to let go of, and the things I took so much pride in that weren’t really worth a damn. For every moment I cherished that was a lie, for every moment that I refused to cherish until it went bye.

Today I took stock, and I am left with this, I’m empty inside!!!!!!

Coloreds is Takin' Over

I’m not gone cry

I’m not gone cry

“While all the time that I was loving you, you were busy loving yourself I would stop breathing if you told me to, now you’re busy loving someone else..” As the song starts I can remember seeing the film (Waiting to Exhale) in the theater for the first time ever, it was in the old Cheltenham Mall theater. It was so crowded every seat in the place was taken, all anyone could see was a sea of woman filling the entire place. There may have been about ten or so males in there that evening. I sat in a row with about eight other females, we had all came to see this movie together. When the part in the film came on where this song (Not Gone Cry by Mary J Bliege) lowly played in the background every single female in the place started to sing this song, my entire body was covered with goose bumps as I sang the song as well. It was one of the most amazing things that I to this day have ever experienced, with lord knows how many other people, 75 or 100 who knows. But the sound of all of us sining in agreement, with feeling, the sound was just amazing. Now that several years have passed, I’ve lived more than enough experiences where I can actually understand the words, feelings, and emotions behind this song, that scene in the movie and why so many of us that night felt the need to sing this song.

“I should have left your ass long time ago, I’m not gone cry, I’m not gone cry, I’m not gone shed no tears because you’re not worth my tears. I was your lover and your secretary working every day of the week was at the job when no one else was there helping you get on your feet..” I mean even though many of us weren’t married and probably like myself still have yet to get married, this song speaks to the heart of every woman (man) hurt, putting yourself out for someone else just having them play with your heart just to leave you for another person. I mean the song talks about how easily someone can just leave you after an extended amount of time together basically without regard to the commitment in which the two of you had made to one another, or the emotional attachment. “ eleven years I’ve sacrificed and you can leave me at the drop of a dime...” This also leaves a person feeling as if the time they’ve put into a relationship was wasted in essence it may feel like that, there is no positive way to put a spin on that. However every personal experience with another human being is an opportunity to learn something that you can use later on in your lifetime. I mean life’s lessons aren’t always so easy and none messy, there is going to be difficulty, there is going to be a lot of mess to clean up, there’s going to be complications involved with them. But they aren’t for naut and if you’re a quick learner you may not have to repeat them ever again, because you would have gotten out of that relationship or situation what you needed to avoid ever being put in that place ever again.

I just only wish that people would no longer have to learn these lessons that end with so much pain, but as long as there are “assholes” in this world there is going to be pain inflicted to anyone who let’s someone into their hearts, anyone who opens up their lives and lets another person into it. Until this day there are always going to be songs written like this or movies like “Waiting To Exhale”, dedicated to the pain that so many people male and female have been through and sad to say real life doesn’t always have the movie happy endings in them either.

What if you’re suffering was to save me?

What if you’re suffering was to save me?

I have the advantage of having in my life a woman that I think highly of, I see her only once a year for some government business. Never the less this woman is one of the most amazing souls that I have meant in all my life. Her words are powerful, they give encouragement, enlightenment, peace, insight and power to my soul. At one of the meetings with her, she spoke of her dying sister. She said that her sister spoke of her pain, and like many in life faced with such circumstances she asked “why me?” So this woman said to her sister, “what if your suffering was to save my soul?” This woman than spoke about how she watched an older handicapped neighbor sit outside every day, she spoke to him and said to him you don’t know how many people look outside and see you every day, and which of them is getting something out of your life.

From this I often wondered why, why do I have to do daily battle with this depression, OCD, Anxiety? I mean people can’t see any signs outwardly that there is anything wrong with me. I mean it causes no outside deformities or signs that can be seen by the another’s naked eye, this causes more confusion than one would ever think. See people only seem to feel an understanding for the things that they can physically see another person going through. People usually aren’t concerned with a suffering that they can’t see for themselves, they are usually good at assigning sympathy for some ailment that can only be scene.

Well peel back my skin, crack into my skull, extract my brain can you see it now? Probably not but that’s more on the lines of the dramatic effect that people can understand that you’re dealing with a battle. I am at war and if anything I go through can save someone else from losing a battle within themselves or the course of their lives than I would have found hope, I would have found triumph and victory in my war. I would know that all the tears I’ve cried, all the struggles I’ve had, all the times my mind wanted one thing and my heart wanted another, all the people I’ve pushed away, all the people that have pushed me away because I wasn’t this perfectly happy thankful being, won’t all the just be for naut??? It would serve to save a life, a heartache, a tragedy, a loss and someone some where would gain victory through my war.

...a lonely walk

As much as I enjoyed the view, your touch, your time, your words I am left not where I had started but now even further behind in my goals. The view was distracting, but not mine to enjoy. The view was tempting but something many were aloud to lay eyes upon. The view was amazing, but left me looking for something that made the smile on my face an in my heart last longer than a fading glance. The view was of the devil, something that I wanted to see but that lead me away from the beauty already around me.

The touch was softer than cotton, creamier than fresh churned butter, and sweeter than a sugar cane. Within it I would've lived out my life, within it I could have died, within it I could have lost my sorrows. However within it I was lulled into a false sense of comfort and hope. Within it I found my dreams becoming nightmares, my accomplishments becoming failures, my desires becoming unfruitful. My fingers longer for such a touch, however to go deeper beyond the package I found damages unclaimed, heartache unhealed, love given away to freely, hatred for ones self and demise to the temple that God hath built to be worshiped. Within this touch I was tainted, tempted and lost, for it was just as deep as the puddle that lays upon the ground. This touch wasn't for me to rejoice in but to be pulled into and lost from my path.

The time was short, but left bitter sweet memories, of something that wasn't real but only for me to see. Time that was taken from the walk I had started long ago, losing my way was only but a distraction from the peace in which my soul had been longing. Time that can't be taken back but only consumed by the devilish thoughts that used up this space. Time that I could have saved my own self from the fortress of distress that my heart now lives in. Time that I could have used begging my God to forgive my missteps, for his guidance I still need to get pack to my walk.

Now that my focus is back, my soul is more weary than that of a young slave child. My path is that of the lonely one who lays all alone, making my way towards my goals. Alone in the night, scared of the dark, as a child forced to grow up much to fast, I look towards my path and embrace this simple task. For I am the only one who has to walk in these shoes, for my size isn't yours, nor is my destination. For one day you'll find your end is not where mine is to be, the love I had for you is as real as life to me, the time I spent was well worth the lesson learned, the devil has many distractions to come, with my eyes bound and focused I shall bypass everyone!!!

F&*k The B^&ch !

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33ApxEreuR4

Always an Option

when you find that someone's always putting you in here when they want someone else but pulling you out when they bored, maybe it's time to just empty the trash in your own life!!!

JUST LET IT BE...

Never could understand the need for a title for somethings until I no longer had a "thing" needing a title!! Yeah confusing huh??? Well I had this girlfriend, well female friend, well woman friend...uummmm well let's put it like this, she was a woman and a friend and the feelings I felt for her were much more than any friend I have now, will ever have or had at that time! See I wanted to lay claim on another human being, which isn't exactly possible, I mean since slavery was abolished right? It's easy to claim a family member as being your family, a friend as being your friend, but a relationship beyond friend but less than married, or even boy/girlfriend. Isn't so easy, but hell who says it has to be called anything but what it is friends. I mean yeah this woman I was seeing at the tender age of 29 or 30 was more than any friend I'd ever had before, however it wasn't a need for any title at all, I mean we talked just about every waking hour our phones were connected to one another, thank the lord for bluetooth! But I wanted more, I wanted DEMANDED to hear her say those words, I wanted to have property in the form of another human being...lol. But it wouldn't have made her more special nor me, it wouldn't have made her love me any more or less. I mean this woman was special to me even though we had no title what so ever. She explained this to me often I mean at twenty years my senior she had lived loved and learned much more than I had, she said "just let it be" but I didn't listen...

Today she remains close to my heart, someone that loves me no matter what I do or have done, and someone that would come to my aide if I ever needed her. However I have moved on, yet find myself backwards. With someone that always wants to make sure I know that my title is friend and "FRIEND ONLY". I mean it's like the saddest thing ever, I love her no less, I adore her maybe more, I spend lots of time with her, I give her time that no one else receives, we do things that are maybe a little more than I'd like her to do with her other random friends. I just don't get the need for constant reminding of the "friend" title, I mean I ask for nothing more or her except to keep her plans with me, or to be respectful of a few things, I just think it's so odd to always want to downgrade everything as if I can someone how forget that I am "JUST A FRIEND!" I mean a times I wonder if maybe I should never see her again, or maybe my friendship isn't needed because I'm constantly being told over and over again that am just a friend. I wonder is this a thing she does with all her friends, it's kinda creepy. I mean besides I'm happy with what I have, I say it often, yet it seems to fall onto deaf ears, or maybe someone who really doesn't want me around. The more and more it's said the more and more I get the feeling that I am not wanted around, or that I am stood up often because I am not that important. I have no idea what it may be all I do know is that I wish she would just "LET IT BE!" Before it's gone....

Fingers running through your hair...

...my fingers running through your hair, the sensual feeling on the tips of my fingers the fibers tingling the soft smooth shinny hair slowly rubbing along the length of my hands. While the thoughts going through my mind, from the follicles of your hair to the neurons of my brain there's so much motion in the room, yet you and I lay intertwined motionless. The flashes of images racing musing in my mind of doing things to you that would cause us both to blush in shear delight. As still as our bodies lay the thoughts just rush, in an instance I'm dripping from the perspiration that flows from an inactive body but a mind that's traveled from the top of your head to the souls of your feet...this can not be my hands gently glide from the roots of your thick hair to the ends. The laws I want to break in my mind, the things I want to do...the pressure in my palms increases as I slide to your shoulders, massaging, touching, rubbing, mind racing, filling, thoughts coming and going, entering and exiting. The scent of the room is or your perfume, my finger tips lead me on this journey, from your hair, to your skin, to your dress, to be continued!!!!!

...dying smells like lemons...

..I remembered watching a Grey's Anatomy episode where an inmate who was a week or so out from being put to death came into the hospital. He caused much major drama as per the entertainment of the show. However he said he had remembered his grandfather dying and saying that it smelled like lemons. The inmate called his grandfather a liar, but after all their work saving his life he was still put to death and Meridith was there to see him die like he had asked her. He said he wanted to look out among the sea of angry faces to see one kind face, which he wanted to be hers. As they begin to inject him, he smiled and said it smelled like lemons. I hadn't remembered this until one night sitting on the toilet of all places, this had become my thinking thrown many many years ago. When I sniffed the air it was strong with a scent unmistakably of lemons...being the person I am surrounded at times by many, but not often felt like those were really o concerned with the true me. I have/had no one to share this with, the fact that I smelled this citrus like smell despite not having anything of the scent around especially not in the bathroom. I begin to tell those that I loved, I love you more often, I tried to have more patience, I tried to complete more tasks, I tried to mend more relationships, I tried to make sure my place was often clean.

But how could I ever explain that I felt my time of death was nearing? I mean it's simply the smell of lemons, I would surely be committed to some crazy home. But instead I kept it to myself, I couldn't explain the peace that the smell brought to me, even though it was with the knowledge of such a horrible fate that lay ahead for me. But it filled my body with such an abundance of peace and comfort. I tell the person that I fought with the of my love the most because for she and my daughter were those who I felt always received the brunt of my frustration and impatience with life. So as I kiss my child on the forehead I mentioned to her how much I love her. But as for her, the woman I love she told me to stop proclaiming my feelings for she was tired of hearing those words. As I prepare myself for my nightly slumber I am surely unaware if I will be blessed with an awakening in the morning, but alas the last thing she will remember is telling me to stop!

So as I lay here, sniffing the smell of lemons, feeling the great peace and comfort I can only hope that I live another day to NOT tell her that I love her, and that she will never regret telling me to stop......

Some things just need a disclaimer attached to them!!

"You love me, but you hate me"

Why is it that the people that you love so much or that claim to love you hurt you so badly? I’ve never understood this and if I live a hundred years I will never be able to grasp the understanding of it. I often wonder why is it because, I don’t love you enough? Is it because I would die for you? Are my sacrifices not pleasing to you? Is it that I’m not your favorite? Is it because I am not beautiful enough? Is it because I lack the femineity that other woman have? Maybe I’m not smart enough? Or perhaps I don’t deserve the respect that other human beings do? I mean this is a country that denies me of the basic freedoms and rights that heterosexuals receive. What can it be that I have done to deserve such treatment.

If I were a child I would continue on with line of questioning, blaming myself for the maltreatment that I continue to receive on a daily basis. However “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish things ways behind me.” 1 Cor. It would be incomprehensible for someone to blame the treatment they received from others on themselves. However it is within human nature to seek out reasons for why those that are supposed to love, admire, and adore you by either friendship, blood relations, or time known, would ever have reason to mistreat you. Any educated person or reason would first seek inward to find out any question that their heart or mind desires the answer for. In the mirror of this world the first image we see is our own reflection, someone who looks in the mirror and sees someone else’s reflection is deeply in need of serious mental attention, or is blinded by someone that they are places in front of themselves causing a blockage of their own view. So once I’ve have passed the stage of checking into my own image than where shall I turn to seek out the understanding that surpasses my knowledge?

In the Bible when Paul writes his letters to the people of Corinth (the Corinthians), he starts out chapter 13, of his letter by writing these words, “And no I will show you the most excellent way.” Any human being with or without the belief in God, a god any other form or being in the world that does not know what he is about to say does not have any understanding of life at all. Because for within these following sentences Paul writes if Love, one of the most common feelings in this world that without this there would be NOTHING that differentiates the human from the lowliest of animals on this planet. If one were to disagree than I would challenge them to name anything in this world that would NOT be affect by the loss of the emotion love.

Even as a society of human beings that are by nature and nurture taught, given and raised by this principle of love, many many people still don’t know how to execute the act of showing one another LOVE. Before I get to far off into this topic I will transcribe the text in which the meaning of love is defined; “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind/ It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude. it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.” People often read things written in the bible and make the assumption that they need a minister, pastor or preacher to explain things to them, or they listen to someone else’s explanation and forsake their own knowledge and understand, any words that are ever written in your native tongue can be understood by you without the need of a teacher.

A person can be wealthy, so wealthy that it’s ignorant, however without love for someone or from someone what good does all their wealth bring them? If a person has intelligence to the point of being a genius what good is this if they have no one to love, or no one loves them in return? If we were a world devoid of love, what would be our reasoning for living from day to day? One that lives without love can’t even love themselves enough to even maintain their own lives. The basic family structure would no longer exist, child births would decline, therefor those children also born would be unloved raised without love, or the knowledge of the things that comes from loving one another.

Even with love in the world, it remains to be understood why people treat those that they love poorly. Well has human beings I understand that we can not always be as perfect in our actions against one another but if there is in our hearts forms any form of love than there would be less neglectful, hurtful words or actions towards those that we are supposed to love. People that can only love those that are in blood relation to them are also lacking the desire or knowledge of the true meaning of the word. I have searched high and I have searched low, even in he dictionary love is defined as;

love |ləv|

noun

1 an intense feeling of deep affection : babies fill parents with intense feelings of love | their love for their country.

• a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone : it was love at first sight | they were both in love with her | we were slowly falling in love.

• ( Love) a personified figure of love, often represented as Cupid.

• a great interest and pleasure in something : his love for football | we share a love of music.

• affectionate greetings conveyed to someone on one's behalf.

• a formula for ending an affectionate letter : take care, lots of love, Judy.

2 a person or thing that one loves : she was the love of his life | their two great loves are tobacco and whiskey.

• Brit., informal a friendly form of address : it's all right, love.

• ( a love) Brit., informal used to express affectionate approval for someone : don't fret, there's a love.

I still quest to find the answer for this but one of the most simplistic answers that I have come up with is that “If someone mistreats you and they claim to love you, they simply DO NOT love you!” Tracie B. Henry