Saturday, August 29, 2009
. . .
"I can almost see it. That dream I'm dreaming, but there's a voice inside my head saying, u'll never reach it. Every step I'm takin, every move I'm makin feels lost with no direction, my faith is shaken...."
Monday, August 24, 2009
Failed attempt to inspire
I had written this hoping it would inspire a person i know to write. They were lost and tried to find themselves in between the lines they penned-and so, in order to help-i tried to inspire. Did it work? *shruggs* who knows! At this point i dont really care. So instead, I present it to you guys...who will appreciate it more. Enjoy.
Constantly and consistently I am
Crucified and resurrected
Between the lines of poetry…
Crimson drips of ink drop from the
Dotting of an I… I will my eyes to
Search for self here…bits and pieces
Of my identity hiding behind the guise of
Creativity…I live to die and
Die so that I might live…rebirth
After rebirth with each stanza that is
Written…for it is written that I will
Find my peace and harmony here…
My soul spilled forth upon piece after piece of
Crumbled and rippled parchment…
My pages warped with the tracks of my tears…
For here is where I have committed homicide…
Suicide…taken my last breath… tasted death…
And then…with the spatterings of
Poetic placenta…I have penned masterpiece’s
With the blood of my poetic delivery…
Laboring through life…I have written and
Rewritten my own destiny…here is where I have
Penned the pages of my legacy…here is where my
Children will truly get to know me…
When their childhood days have long since passed…
They will turn to the portion of me
That will eternally last…and they will cling to me…
Piecing together the neverending pieces of the
Puzzle of me… they will hear my whispers…
Here is where I will constantly
And consistently
Be reborn…
Even in death… I will live on…
Over and over…
Ink of resiliency resurrecting me
Within the soulful stanzas of this
Prolific poetry.
Constantly and consistently I am
Crucified and resurrected
Between the lines of poetry…
Crimson drips of ink drop from the
Dotting of an I… I will my eyes to
Search for self here…bits and pieces
Of my identity hiding behind the guise of
Creativity…I live to die and
Die so that I might live…rebirth
After rebirth with each stanza that is
Written…for it is written that I will
Find my peace and harmony here…
My soul spilled forth upon piece after piece of
Crumbled and rippled parchment…
My pages warped with the tracks of my tears…
For here is where I have committed homicide…
Suicide…taken my last breath… tasted death…
And then…with the spatterings of
Poetic placenta…I have penned masterpiece’s
With the blood of my poetic delivery…
Laboring through life…I have written and
Rewritten my own destiny…here is where I have
Penned the pages of my legacy…here is where my
Children will truly get to know me…
When their childhood days have long since passed…
They will turn to the portion of me
That will eternally last…and they will cling to me…
Piecing together the neverending pieces of the
Puzzle of me… they will hear my whispers…
Here is where I will constantly
And consistently
Be reborn…
Even in death… I will live on…
Over and over…
Ink of resiliency resurrecting me
Within the soulful stanzas of this
Prolific poetry.
FYI
TODAY @Blue Stockings book store, 172 Allen Street b/w stanton and rivington. 7PM - Screening: Nancy Schwartzman “The Line” (2009, 25 minutes).
Some background:
With Melissa Gira Grant and Melanie WallnerJoin Nancy Schwartzman for a screening of “The Line,” her documentary about the gray areas bounding sexual consent. The filmed conversations (including a secretly recorded confrontation between Schwartzman and the person whom raped her) unblushingly address identity, power and sexual violence. Please join Schwartzman, Melissa Gira Grant, and Melanie Wallner for a discussion about sex-positive living and accountability inside the main of rape culture.
See you all there ;)
Some background:
With Melissa Gira Grant and Melanie WallnerJoin Nancy Schwartzman for a screening of “The Line,” her documentary about the gray areas bounding sexual consent. The filmed conversations (including a secretly recorded confrontation between Schwartzman and the person whom raped her) unblushingly address identity, power and sexual violence. Please join Schwartzman, Melissa Gira Grant, and Melanie Wallner for a discussion about sex-positive living and accountability inside the main of rape culture.
See you all there ;)
Sunday, August 23, 2009
a Poet?!
I don’t know if I will ever
BE the poet…but I know that I can
BE the poem…I know that I can
Be that noun…standing proud in the
Midst of an alliteration I can be that
Redundant letter that repeats itself positively…
Powerfully progressively adding onto itself
As the momentum of the subject builds….
I KNOW that I can be the third eye
That dots the I on the inspiration of the
Master’s piece that causes a transformation…
I know that I can GRACEFULLY cross the tee
Of transmigration as past lives are lost and
The soul is reborn through the purification of
Poetry….I don’t know if I will ever
BE the poet…for she may be… lost in an
Elipses, somewhere hiding in a dot dot dot…
Peering from behind the silhouette
Of the poem provided…no…I don’t know
If I will ever BE the poet…but I know that I can
BE the poem…I can BE the ink…liquefied me
Spilling forth upon parchment…saturating
In the form of bleeding stanzas… I can
Make beautiful love to your mind and
Play masterfully orchestrated melodies that
Dance across your eardrums like prima ballerinas….
I can paint beautiful pictures that become
Animated movies upon the
Cinematic screen of your mentals….
Macabre horror, romantic rendezvous, and
Pornography too… there’s no limit to
What liquefied me can do… I don’t know
If I will ever BE the poet…but I know that I can
BE the poem… I can be the tree that
Nooses hung from… I can be the white of the parchment…
The black of my ink….
I can be whatever I tell my ink I want to be…
I can be in control Of my destiny…
I can erase the stains
Of my history…I can rewrite the past…
I can control the future…I may never be the poet…
But from now…
until the day I breathe my last breath…
Until the day my pen drops from my fingers…
Until the last word is formed in my cerebral cortex….
I will now and forever…
be
the
poem.
BE the poet…but I know that I can
BE the poem…I know that I can
Be that noun…standing proud in the
Midst of an alliteration I can be that
Redundant letter that repeats itself positively…
Powerfully progressively adding onto itself
As the momentum of the subject builds….
I KNOW that I can be the third eye
That dots the I on the inspiration of the
Master’s piece that causes a transformation…
I know that I can GRACEFULLY cross the tee
Of transmigration as past lives are lost and
The soul is reborn through the purification of
Poetry….I don’t know if I will ever
BE the poet…for she may be… lost in an
Elipses, somewhere hiding in a dot dot dot…
Peering from behind the silhouette
Of the poem provided…no…I don’t know
If I will ever BE the poet…but I know that I can
BE the poem…I can BE the ink…liquefied me
Spilling forth upon parchment…saturating
In the form of bleeding stanzas… I can
Make beautiful love to your mind and
Play masterfully orchestrated melodies that
Dance across your eardrums like prima ballerinas….
I can paint beautiful pictures that become
Animated movies upon the
Cinematic screen of your mentals….
Macabre horror, romantic rendezvous, and
Pornography too… there’s no limit to
What liquefied me can do… I don’t know
If I will ever BE the poet…but I know that I can
BE the poem… I can be the tree that
Nooses hung from… I can be the white of the parchment…
The black of my ink….
I can be whatever I tell my ink I want to be…
I can be in control Of my destiny…
I can erase the stains
Of my history…I can rewrite the past…
I can control the future…I may never be the poet…
But from now…
until the day I breathe my last breath…
Until the day my pen drops from my fingers…
Until the last word is formed in my cerebral cortex….
I will now and forever…
be
the
poem.
Hiiiii-yaaa. Ok, so i'm back. Im still lost and life's recent randomosities (lol) have made sure that I stay lost. ugh. But amidst the endless search, I learned a few things:
1. I am completely apathetic toward life.
2. E will forever be my heart's keeper and my best friend. This weekend just proved that.
3. I have met many new ppl this year, and almost all of them are disposable. For shame! Definitely time to start downsizing & deleting ppl from my life.
4. Contrary to my initial belief, I really don't need his support, affection, or attention afterall. What he thinks or feels with respect to me i no longer care. I no longer spend my days wishing to be my his side, or wishing that he would think of me, miss me, long for me.
5. I have groupies lol
That is all i discovered this weekend.
La pregunta..awesome.
Peace poets..dope.
City Island..yummmm.
Renny..inspirational.
Bibi..sweetest.
E..classic.
J..disposable.
Interesting weekend. Here's to "raging against the dying of the light"
1. I am completely apathetic toward life.
2. E will forever be my heart's keeper and my best friend. This weekend just proved that.
3. I have met many new ppl this year, and almost all of them are disposable. For shame! Definitely time to start downsizing & deleting ppl from my life.
4. Contrary to my initial belief, I really don't need his support, affection, or attention afterall. What he thinks or feels with respect to me i no longer care. I no longer spend my days wishing to be my his side, or wishing that he would think of me, miss me, long for me.
5. I have groupies lol
That is all i discovered this weekend.
La pregunta..awesome.
Peace poets..dope.
City Island..yummmm.
Renny..inspirational.
Bibi..sweetest.
E..classic.
J..disposable.
Interesting weekend. Here's to "raging against the dying of the light"
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
I was about to take a nap but...
Then I got caught up in hearing my friend complain (in a boastful manner) about purchasing $1,600 shoes for her birthday. SMH. The more i listen ..the more she happily talks about these designer shoes i think to myself: " should i burst her bubble and tell her that: i bought those exact shoes (in 2 different colors) back in 2008; which clearly they aren't "the latest" as she alleges?" smh. naaa i'll let her enjoy her shoes. lol. i dont get why she feels the need to advertise to people the price of the shoes. Does that make you cooler? did i miss the "how to be cool" memo? Matter of fact, the more she talks the more repulsed I get. She's such a pretty girl; but with each word she articulates she begins to get uglier and uglier..smh.
Can we talk about the world or even our own backyard? Music videos with half naked women? Women selling their children's innocense to get money for a fix? Abandoned animals in the street? Abandoned souls in the street, for that matter! Gentrification, invisible segragation, political degradation, media fabrication. How about our mixed democracy sucks and socialism semi-rocks? um shoot...we can even goo real simple..burger king vs. wendys? ANYTHINGGG but the price of shoes and of how that makes YOU feel as if you have some stance in the world!! $1,600. hmm, $20 can feed 70 people in Haiti. Granted, yesssss i am the first to spent 1,600 ok..buttt (a) i dont brag; and (b) i still give $20 to Haiti!! so :p
So i guess im just gonna put her on speaker, mute my phone, and take that nap afterall....
Can we talk about the world or even our own backyard? Music videos with half naked women? Women selling their children's innocense to get money for a fix? Abandoned animals in the street? Abandoned souls in the street, for that matter! Gentrification, invisible segragation, political degradation, media fabrication. How about our mixed democracy sucks and socialism semi-rocks? um shoot...we can even goo real simple..burger king vs. wendys? ANYTHINGGG but the price of shoes and of how that makes YOU feel as if you have some stance in the world!! $1,600. hmm, $20 can feed 70 people in Haiti. Granted, yesssss i am the first to spent 1,600 ok..buttt (a) i dont brag; and (b) i still give $20 to Haiti!! so :p
So i guess im just gonna put her on speaker, mute my phone, and take that nap afterall....
Can you tell me how to get, how to get to sesame streeeeettt...
I used to think solitude was esphixiating. After living life in the center of everything; i now bask in solitude. Its admist company-perhaps bad company?- that i managed to lose the essence of my self-identity. I used to be a fighter, ambitious, zealous, a contemporary socialite with the old soul of debutantes of ages past. But that's all a vague memory now. i USED to be. I used to believe in the good in people, in love, in happiness, and in unicorns (lol..dont ask). i USED to believe. It was in looking for him, i lost me. So now i look for me even if it means losing him. Well, in truth I never had him *shruggs* So now in solitude i happily stand, boldly subjectifying myself to the scrutiny of judgment from one of the harshest people i know....
me.
self-reflection
introspection
retrospection
UGH. lots of "spections" going on there....
I had a dream. in this dream a naked indian walked thru the desert and told me that if i followed snuffalupagus that he would take me down the path to finding myself. lol. sooo i ask..or rather..i sing: Can you tell me how to get...how to get to sesame streeeeeettttttt *doing the charleston w/ cute tap shoes*
me.
self-reflection
introspection
retrospection
UGH. lots of "spections" going on there....
I had a dream. in this dream a naked indian walked thru the desert and told me that if i followed snuffalupagus that he would take me down the path to finding myself. lol. sooo i ask..or rather..i sing: Can you tell me how to get...how to get to sesame streeeeeettttttt *doing the charleston w/ cute tap shoes*
Monday, August 17, 2009
Jay for Dummies..
So apparently Ms. Cleo decided to write a biography about me....
"Scorpio is the astrology sign of extremes and intensity. Scorpios are very deep, intense people, there is always more than meets the eye. They present a cool, detached and unemotional air to the world yet lying underneath is tremendous power, extreme strength, intense passion and a strong will and a persistent drive. Most Scorpios are highly intuitive, which can make them either very compassionate and empathic or very cruel and vindictive, because they know where other people’s weak points are. Scorpios like to explore the profound in life and have little interest in small talk. Scorpios are excellent judges of character, and they have an incredible amount of sympathy for those who truly deserve it, but no sympathy or patience for people who are the authors of their own misfortune. Scorpios are extremists. Everything they do is all-or-nothing. Scorpios are known for their sharp minds and shrewd intellects. The person that a Scorpio respects and holds close to them is treated with amazing kindness, loyalty and generosity. On the outside, a Scorpio has great mystery. This magnetically draws people to them. They are known to be too ambitious but only because they need control. This makes them feel safe. They can be strong willed and determined, almost to the point of being stubborn. This makes them great competitors, even if they are able to hide this desire to win from you. This also makes Scorpios very dominant, controlling and passionate. When they do not have a positive outlet for self-expression, they often turn inwards and become destructive. "
"Scorpio is the astrology sign of extremes and intensity. Scorpios are very deep, intense people, there is always more than meets the eye. They present a cool, detached and unemotional air to the world yet lying underneath is tremendous power, extreme strength, intense passion and a strong will and a persistent drive. Most Scorpios are highly intuitive, which can make them either very compassionate and empathic or very cruel and vindictive, because they know where other people’s weak points are. Scorpios like to explore the profound in life and have little interest in small talk. Scorpios are excellent judges of character, and they have an incredible amount of sympathy for those who truly deserve it, but no sympathy or patience for people who are the authors of their own misfortune. Scorpios are extremists. Everything they do is all-or-nothing. Scorpios are known for their sharp minds and shrewd intellects. The person that a Scorpio respects and holds close to them is treated with amazing kindness, loyalty and generosity. On the outside, a Scorpio has great mystery. This magnetically draws people to them. They are known to be too ambitious but only because they need control. This makes them feel safe. They can be strong willed and determined, almost to the point of being stubborn. This makes them great competitors, even if they are able to hide this desire to win from you. This also makes Scorpios very dominant, controlling and passionate. When they do not have a positive outlet for self-expression, they often turn inwards and become destructive. "
Lost in a Colorful Existence
Once upon a monochromed palette, I used to live in a black & white world. I was happy living in such world. When I woke up every morning and was presented with something black, i knew that atleast for that day nothing will be white becauuusseee..well.. because it was just black. period.
Life was great. Success. Properity. Happiness. It all ensued within the crafty, yet, thinly painted black & white backdrop that was my life.
UNTIL...
I met someone who splashed my existence with color. Beautiful, lustful, torturous, painful color. No more where the glorious shades of black & white that defined me, my life, my existence. Hues of blues, blacks and reds now infiltrated & permeated every square inch of me. He would dip his fingers in the colors and make surreal patterns on my soul. Hmm. The pain of color. SMH.
And now...
I'm lost.
Life was great. Success. Properity. Happiness. It all ensued within the crafty, yet, thinly painted black & white backdrop that was my life.
UNTIL...
I met someone who splashed my existence with color. Beautiful, lustful, torturous, painful color. No more where the glorious shades of black & white that defined me, my life, my existence. Hues of blues, blacks and reds now infiltrated & permeated every square inch of me. He would dip his fingers in the colors and make surreal patterns on my soul. Hmm. The pain of color. SMH.
And now...
I'm lost.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Bad memory??
I tried to forgive & forget today; only to discover that I forgot how to forgive......
Jay
Jay
Thursday, August 13, 2009
FYI....
Some events to keep in mind if you're attempting to be cool... GOOOO. If i'm feeling better about life and can get out of bed then most likely i'll be at these events. You can have a picture and my autograph before and after the events :)
Saturday, August 15th ALANY's Latin Family Fair Festival. Help the American Latin Association of NY execute their annual children's festival.
Monday, August 17th Workshop: Maryse Mitchell-Brody “Crisis Support and Intervention” 7 p.m., location: Bluestockings Bookstore, 172 Allen Street between Stanton and Rivington
Saturday, August 22nd Lyrical Revolt Poetry Slam @ LaPregunta Cafe, 137th St. & Amsterdam Ave. Proceeds go to the Answer Coalition
September 11th CVH's Pins & Pennies. A bowl-a-thon fundraiser for Community Voices Heard. www.cvhaction.org
Sunday, September 13th @ 7PM - Reading: Barbara J. Berg “Sexism in America” Location: Bluestockings Bookstore, 172 Allen Street between Stanton and Rivington
Saturday, October 3rd My dance-a-thon for Safe Horizon!! woot woot. www.safehorizon.org. Details coming up soon.
The possiblities are numerous once you decide to act rather than react. Many times we talk about change, we talk about gentrification, sexism, racism, liberal, radical, left wing, right wing. But it all means NOTHING if you don't put yourself in the center of things, people! Dare yourself to be knowledgeable, dare yourself to be the change you want to see!
ok i'm done preaching!
Back to hiding under my blankey. Dear life, I am soo not your friend rite now!!
Saturday, August 15th ALANY's Latin Family Fair Festival. Help the American Latin Association of NY execute their annual children's festival.
Monday, August 17th Workshop: Maryse Mitchell-Brody “Crisis Support and Intervention” 7 p.m., location: Bluestockings Bookstore, 172 Allen Street between Stanton and Rivington
Saturday, August 22nd Lyrical Revolt Poetry Slam @ LaPregunta Cafe, 137th St. & Amsterdam Ave. Proceeds go to the Answer Coalition
September 11th CVH's Pins & Pennies. A bowl-a-thon fundraiser for Community Voices Heard. www.cvhaction.org
Sunday, September 13th @ 7PM - Reading: Barbara J. Berg “Sexism in America” Location: Bluestockings Bookstore, 172 Allen Street between Stanton and Rivington
Saturday, October 3rd My dance-a-thon for Safe Horizon!! woot woot. www.safehorizon.org. Details coming up soon.
The possiblities are numerous once you decide to act rather than react. Many times we talk about change, we talk about gentrification, sexism, racism, liberal, radical, left wing, right wing. But it all means NOTHING if you don't put yourself in the center of things, people! Dare yourself to be knowledgeable, dare yourself to be the change you want to see!
ok i'm done preaching!
Back to hiding under my blankey. Dear life, I am soo not your friend rite now!!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Subconciously Owned
Within the cerebral cortex of my
somewhat clouded mind...he meets me
on the corner of
Destiny Drive
and
Bliss Boulevard...
taking my hand...
his poetic mind
unites with mine and he
takes me on a
metaphysical meandering...
sashaying me from
the alpha to the omega...
stopping off for rays of enlightenment
along the way...
He enhances my dreams
and since...
rules only exist within
reality...
there are no limits
to where he takes me...
how he touches me as he
teaches me...
and I subconsciously
fall deeper in love with the
enigmatic mind
of
he
.
.
.
with his pen he
draws me wings of liberation...
attaching them to my
fractionally fatigued back...
where shoulders slightly slump
from a lifetime of
guilt being dumped upon them...
and he injects me
with stanzas of poetic precision...
conception of spiritual harmony...
beginning with the anointing of his
celestial seed...
and I
give birth to phenomenally pretty poetry
with the
precision of an old world bard...
for he carries me so far...
He waltzes me
so far beyond the mortal...
this world he takes me to
is eternal...
there is no end...
only a beginning...
because...
as long as he has a mind to think
and his quill contains the ink
he will pen his profoundly prolific philosophies
across my naked flesh as I
bow to bended knee before he...
head bowed in reverence to his
incredible flow...
and here I shall stay...
his parchment...
his canvas..
receiving the drippings of his ink...
bathing in the flow of his thoughts...
bought by the intricacy of his
masculinity...
I belong to he...
subconsciously.
somewhat clouded mind...he meets me
on the corner of
Destiny Drive
and
Bliss Boulevard...
taking my hand...
his poetic mind
unites with mine and he
takes me on a
metaphysical meandering...
sashaying me from
the alpha to the omega...
stopping off for rays of enlightenment
along the way...
He enhances my dreams
and since...
rules only exist within
reality...
there are no limits
to where he takes me...
how he touches me as he
teaches me...
and I subconsciously
fall deeper in love with the
enigmatic mind
of
he
.
.
.
with his pen he
draws me wings of liberation...
attaching them to my
fractionally fatigued back...
where shoulders slightly slump
from a lifetime of
guilt being dumped upon them...
and he injects me
with stanzas of poetic precision...
conception of spiritual harmony...
beginning with the anointing of his
celestial seed...
and I
give birth to phenomenally pretty poetry
with the
precision of an old world bard...
for he carries me so far...
He waltzes me
so far beyond the mortal...
this world he takes me to
is eternal...
there is no end...
only a beginning...
because...
as long as he has a mind to think
and his quill contains the ink
he will pen his profoundly prolific philosophies
across my naked flesh as I
bow to bended knee before he...
head bowed in reverence to his
incredible flow...
and here I shall stay...
his parchment...
his canvas..
receiving the drippings of his ink...
bathing in the flow of his thoughts...
bought by the intricacy of his
masculinity...
I belong to he...
subconsciously.
Ever felt like you've known someone for most of your life? As if your electrons and their positrons collided turning time into a neutron; completely neutral, and at a stand still? NO? lol smh..oohh blogiary (get it? instead of diary its..oh forget it!) so yea..ohhh blogiary..if i could divulge the tale of serendipity that is j&j..lol. Its a funny story. Funnier than anyone actually knows (including him). I finally told my friend the whole story...and the wus had tears in her eyes..lol "omg thats soo sweet, it was fate!" she squealed. PFT. I disagree. I like to think of it as more of bad luck hunting me down..but the whole HONEST story is rather seredipitous i suppose lol. oh well.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
ihe[art]
FYI...
the MET is having a Francis Bacon exhibition. well, they were..lol ..since May but i kept forgetting. So yea...Francis Bacon. He was, in my opinion, a ground breaking painter in the early 20th century. Born in Dublin (1909-1992). Amazing impressionist work. GO seee!! I'm going Sunday. I'll let ya know how it goes :)
xoxo
Jay
The he to my s[he]
He just so happened to be
the he
to my she.
He completed me...
I gave him the opportunity to
define me...to mold me...
to make me into who he
wanted me to be...
and I made myself
malleable for him...
allowed him to shape my curves...
I was the clay...
and he was the sculptor...
I was but a mere thought...and he
expounded on me...and scribed me into
a novel...lines and paragraphs...
pages forming chapters...of a love story . . .
.
.
gone bad...
a tragedy...filled with the travesty of
me giving my
all and everything
to please.
I saw life through the looking glass
of his worldview...simply so that I would
be on his common ground...
I spoke the words of his mind...
since I had studied him so deeply...
My hands were his on so very many levels...
serving him with multiplicity...
pen in hand I penned prolific poetry
upon the pages of my soul for him
to finger through...words glorifying
his masculinity...
even though he was but an oasis...
a mirage in the desert of my life...
seeming to be substenance for a
parched and dry soul...I drank of the
supplication of falsifications he
eagerly fed to me...and it
took time for me to realize I was
sipping sand from my cupped hands...
I gave him my soul...allowed him to
spray the ghetto graffiti of his concepts
across the walls...covering my wounds
with the paint of his mind...in attempts to
beautify the ugly...and he succeeded...
until I realized that the paint he used
was not waterproof...and my tears...
they washed the paint away...revealing
the same scars that existed the day he
began to claim to enhance me.
My feet were his...for I walked the pathway
he laid out for me...for he...
commanded my every step of
every moment
of every day
and
even every night... I slept at his command and I
woke upon demand...and I
learned that sometimes sleep
need be sacrificed in the name of "love"...
I gave him my body...
sacrificed my femininity
for him to define what made me
sexy...
Allowed him to use me in order to
please he...
and he used me effortlessly...
for little did I know...
I was a part of a coalition...
a member of a society dedicated to
fulfilling his deviant fantasies...
a society so vast identification numbers
should have been issued...
and through all of this...
he taught me a lesson...
he taught me that
even though I wanted to show him
what love was...
even though I sacrificed my very identity
because I thought he
was the he to my she...
I couldnt teach him what he
didnt want to be taught
so
instead I set about the task of redefining me...
and began the search for the me to my she.
the he
to my she.
He completed me...
I gave him the opportunity to
define me...to mold me...
to make me into who he
wanted me to be...
and I made myself
malleable for him...
allowed him to shape my curves...
I was the clay...
and he was the sculptor...
I was but a mere thought...and he
expounded on me...and scribed me into
a novel...lines and paragraphs...
pages forming chapters...of a love story . . .
.
.
gone bad...
a tragedy...filled with the travesty of
me giving my
all and everything
to please.
I saw life through the looking glass
of his worldview...simply so that I would
be on his common ground...
I spoke the words of his mind...
since I had studied him so deeply...
My hands were his on so very many levels...
serving him with multiplicity...
pen in hand I penned prolific poetry
upon the pages of my soul for him
to finger through...words glorifying
his masculinity...
even though he was but an oasis...
a mirage in the desert of my life...
seeming to be substenance for a
parched and dry soul...I drank of the
supplication of falsifications he
eagerly fed to me...and it
took time for me to realize I was
sipping sand from my cupped hands...
I gave him my soul...allowed him to
spray the ghetto graffiti of his concepts
across the walls...covering my wounds
with the paint of his mind...in attempts to
beautify the ugly...and he succeeded...
until I realized that the paint he used
was not waterproof...and my tears...
they washed the paint away...revealing
the same scars that existed the day he
began to claim to enhance me.
My feet were his...for I walked the pathway
he laid out for me...for he...
commanded my every step of
every moment
of every day
and
even every night... I slept at his command and I
woke upon demand...and I
learned that sometimes sleep
need be sacrificed in the name of "love"...
I gave him my body...
sacrificed my femininity
for him to define what made me
sexy...
Allowed him to use me in order to
please he...
and he used me effortlessly...
for little did I know...
I was a part of a coalition...
a member of a society dedicated to
fulfilling his deviant fantasies...
a society so vast identification numbers
should have been issued...
and through all of this...
he taught me a lesson...
he taught me that
even though I wanted to show him
what love was...
even though I sacrificed my very identity
because I thought he
was the he to my she...
I couldnt teach him what he
didnt want to be taught
so
instead I set about the task of redefining me...
and began the search for the me to my she.
"Only when your lonely" -Genuwine
Good Song...
"You put pressure on me
Anyway you wanted me
I was there for you
Undeniably
Time over and time again
You shut me out
I thought I was your man
I kept it real with you
But you was fake with me
As I close my eyes
I start thinking things
Is this love real love
And all that it brings
When I close my eyes
Only you I see
With another man
This is killing me
[Chorus:]
I am your man
But Only When Ur lonely
If I was to bounce
That's when you'd want me
I am your man
But Only When Ur lonely
You say its not the same
But I love you only....."
"You put pressure on me
Anyway you wanted me
I was there for you
Undeniably
Time over and time again
You shut me out
I thought I was your man
I kept it real with you
But you was fake with me
As I close my eyes
I start thinking things
Is this love real love
And all that it brings
When I close my eyes
Only you I see
With another man
This is killing me
[Chorus:]
I am your man
But Only When Ur lonely
If I was to bounce
That's when you'd want me
I am your man
But Only When Ur lonely
You say its not the same
But I love you only....."
Monday, August 10, 2009
WOOOO HOOOO!! I won I won I won *break dancing in my stilettos* I received a favoring decision in one of the hardest cases of my life...EVER. In SUCH a good mood..i was even inspired to be extra nice to someone who i would otherwise be professing my hatred/love for. (yea i know, i said hatred/love..smh lets not go there..its a good day today lol). The funny thing about being nice to him is that it didnt feel weird. It felt natural to call him babe or to tell him ive missed him. Normally i would NEVER say that without feeling some type of disgruntled way. It made me feel better to treat him nice. I liked being nice to him. too bad the fucker doesnt deserve it. So difficult and mean i will continue to be *shruggs* so yea..my good day...WOO HOOO!!!! Hopefully my good day goes into a good night...maybe even a good week?!
Jay
Jay
Friday, August 7, 2009
My 1st Love...
Poetry....
come to me...
allow me to kiss your lips ...
lick the lines of your stanzas...
sensually stroking
nouns and verbs...
on my knees
beneath the reign of your
powerful verbiage...
I find myself waiting on you to
erupt in orgasmic bliss...
sprinkling creative juices
over my psyche...
making a love sick fool of me...
for you...
you are my first love...
and I long to do you justice...
long to feel you penetrating me...
deep in the night...
as my subconscious thoughts
wonder through my dreamscape...
I look to you to
capture the visions of the
beautiful and the ugly...
commemorating them for me...
trapping bits and pieces of my life
between college ruled lines...
ink spatterings of ecstasy
scattering throughout...
therefore I am
on my knees...
awaiting the touch of your bic...
needing to feel the slick and sweet feel
of your ink spread across my pages
as I kneel....
in humble adoration...
I lay for you....
Poetry... for I am owned by you...
and will forever sacrifice my
innermost secret thoughts to you...
you...
my constant and faithful lover...
Poetry.
come to me...
allow me to kiss your lips ...
lick the lines of your stanzas...
sensually stroking
nouns and verbs...
on my knees
beneath the reign of your
powerful verbiage...
I find myself waiting on you to
erupt in orgasmic bliss...
sprinkling creative juices
over my psyche...
making a love sick fool of me...
for you...
you are my first love...
and I long to do you justice...
long to feel you penetrating me...
deep in the night...
as my subconscious thoughts
wonder through my dreamscape...
I look to you to
capture the visions of the
beautiful and the ugly...
commemorating them for me...
trapping bits and pieces of my life
between college ruled lines...
ink spatterings of ecstasy
scattering throughout...
therefore I am
on my knees...
awaiting the touch of your bic...
needing to feel the slick and sweet feel
of your ink spread across my pages
as I kneel....
in humble adoration...
I lay for you....
Poetry... for I am owned by you...
and will forever sacrifice my
innermost secret thoughts to you...
you...
my constant and faithful lover...
Poetry.
When will I say no? (2 men diverged in a wood part deux)
....oh, those 2 men and those damn diverged woods. SMH. It seems that the woods are no longer diverged; but merely 1 path through a forest. At the end of the path stands the man who loves me (hereinafter, "Mr. Y"), for i have said goodbye to the one i love (hereinafter, "Mr. X").
I am FINALLY free from the emotional torture, and shame that came from being w/ Mr. X. So now, its Me and Mr. Y sitting on a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
FINALLY come the "i love you"s, "i miss you"s, "i need you"s. Except my responses to them are "thanks" followed by a fake smile & shrugg.
"will you be mine?" he asks.
"Sure" i sigh.
"i can be all you and peanut ever need. forget him." he claims.
"Sure" i internally cry.
"You're all i've ever wanted. Be my girl" he begs.
"Sure"
UGHHH when will i say NO. How can i be so ungrateful to a man whose lifted me up everytime Mr. X knocked me down? How can i break someone's heart the why mine was broken? How? How do i say No, its Mr. X and not you that gives me goosebumps when he touches me, that I think of, that I miss. *shruggs* I can't. I'm indebted to him. Besides, its not like Mr. X is going to magically come & vie for my affection. PFT. He would never. He would never come to me and say "Jay i want you to be with me and no one else." How do i say no, i dont love u; but if we take it slow enough maybe i can learn to?! Simple...i just dont say no.
"Jay, I love you...." he exclaims.
with closed eyes and a smile, i say " I love you too, Mr. X"
With tears in his eyes, he lets me go....
FUCK. his name is Mr. Y. i guess i can say NO. I guess that was my version of NO. I gotta fix this cuz being with Mr. X again isn't an option despite my urge to. Lets see how i get out of this one...
TBC
Jay.
I am FINALLY free from the emotional torture, and shame that came from being w/ Mr. X. So now, its Me and Mr. Y sitting on a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
FINALLY come the "i love you"s, "i miss you"s, "i need you"s. Except my responses to them are "thanks" followed by a fake smile & shrugg.
"will you be mine?" he asks.
"Sure" i sigh.
"i can be all you and peanut ever need. forget him." he claims.
"Sure" i internally cry.
"You're all i've ever wanted. Be my girl" he begs.
"Sure"
UGHHH when will i say NO. How can i be so ungrateful to a man whose lifted me up everytime Mr. X knocked me down? How can i break someone's heart the why mine was broken? How? How do i say No, its Mr. X and not you that gives me goosebumps when he touches me, that I think of, that I miss. *shruggs* I can't. I'm indebted to him. Besides, its not like Mr. X is going to magically come & vie for my affection. PFT. He would never. He would never come to me and say "Jay i want you to be with me and no one else." How do i say no, i dont love u; but if we take it slow enough maybe i can learn to?! Simple...i just dont say no.
"Jay, I love you...." he exclaims.
with closed eyes and a smile, i say " I love you too, Mr. X"
With tears in his eyes, he lets me go....
FUCK. his name is Mr. Y. i guess i can say NO. I guess that was my version of NO. I gotta fix this cuz being with Mr. X again isn't an option despite my urge to. Lets see how i get out of this one...
TBC
Jay.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
August 4, 2009
I used to think i was simple....
I didnt..and dont understand why he couldnt see what i wanted from him. I didnt want dinners, flowers, nor poetry. I wanted..him. All of him. His doofy quirks, his sarcastic smile, his lush tendencies, his intermittent mood swings..all of it. thats what i wanted. him. Why cant he just look at me and tell that what i crave is his attention. His company. A glimpse from him. His embrace.
Clearly frustrated, he yells "what do you want from me?" This is it. The perfect moment to say "I want you to want me" or "I want you to love me" or "I want you to miss me" or"I want you to need me" This was it. The perfect moment to divulge what i've been holding in! I had the chance once, when I was on top of him...it was then when he grabbed my face and looked in my eyes...there was the chance to tell him. Tell him that i loved him; and that from THAT love came a pain so pure. Shoulda told him that it kills me when he's with her and how i dont understand what makes her better. But instead I just kissed him roughly hoping that his lips would seal my lips from speaking those blasphamous words. I kissed him roughly hoping that he would be so blinded by the lust that he would forget that in that split second he looked into my eyes, he saw my soul. His yelling brings me out of that quick flash back. Again he yells, "What do you want from me?" and I, I say...
NOTHING.
Tears roll down my face as, with much pride and guard, I whisper "I dont want anything from you."
hmm, I used to think I was simple...
I didnt..and dont understand why he couldnt see what i wanted from him. I didnt want dinners, flowers, nor poetry. I wanted..him. All of him. His doofy quirks, his sarcastic smile, his lush tendencies, his intermittent mood swings..all of it. thats what i wanted. him. Why cant he just look at me and tell that what i crave is his attention. His company. A glimpse from him. His embrace.
Clearly frustrated, he yells "what do you want from me?" This is it. The perfect moment to say "I want you to want me" or "I want you to love me" or "I want you to miss me" or"I want you to need me" This was it. The perfect moment to divulge what i've been holding in! I had the chance once, when I was on top of him...it was then when he grabbed my face and looked in my eyes...there was the chance to tell him. Tell him that i loved him; and that from THAT love came a pain so pure. Shoulda told him that it kills me when he's with her and how i dont understand what makes her better. But instead I just kissed him roughly hoping that his lips would seal my lips from speaking those blasphamous words. I kissed him roughly hoping that he would be so blinded by the lust that he would forget that in that split second he looked into my eyes, he saw my soul. His yelling brings me out of that quick flash back. Again he yells, "What do you want from me?" and I, I say...
NOTHING.
Tears roll down my face as, with much pride and guard, I whisper "I dont want anything from you."
hmm, I used to think I was simple...
Schizophrenic Love....
I love you...
______even when I'm hating you.
I can't live without you...
______even though I've thought of offing you.
Your voice moves my spirit...
______even when you're grinding my last raw nerve...
I'll stand by your side forever...
______I can't stand you.
I feel butterflies in my stomach when you're near...
______You make me wanna puke.
I love the way you touch me...
______You make my skin crawl...
You are the gentle man of my dreams...
______you are a nightmare with your plots and schemes.
I can't live without you....
_______I wish dying slow is what you would do...
I love you...
_______did I say I love you? I meant to say fuck you.
______even when I'm hating you.
I can't live without you...
______even though I've thought of offing you.
Your voice moves my spirit...
______even when you're grinding my last raw nerve...
I'll stand by your side forever...
______I can't stand you.
I feel butterflies in my stomach when you're near...
______You make me wanna puke.
I love the way you touch me...
______You make my skin crawl...
You are the gentle man of my dreams...
______you are a nightmare with your plots and schemes.
I can't live without you....
_______I wish dying slow is what you would do...
I love you...
_______did I say I love you? I meant to say fuck you.
Freedom?!
Everything about him
spoke to the inner recesses
of my soul...
He came to me...
in a moment of adversity...
and he seemed to offer...
comfort...to me.
I so sincerely thought he was
just what i needed...
because love is blind...
I never heeded
the warning signs...
blinking like neon on a
Vegas strip...
I simply took the emotional trip with him...
and when I fell...he
held me for a little while...
and then he dropped me...
and he played this
vicious game of
cat and mouse with me...
he'd pick me back up and comfort me...
kiss away the pain and
whisper apologeties with lips pressed to
bruised and battered flesh...and I...
in all my naive stupidity wrapped up in a
comforting blanket of codependcy...
would listen to his words and
will myself to believe...
how could I ever have fallen prey to
such treachorous debauchery...
he...
made...
a fool of me.
Over and over again...he
never put his hands on me... oh no...
this was not one of those men to
ever mar or mark the flesh of a
woman...but he would
terrorize my soul...the very core of my being...
leaving me on the brink of
emotional death...
denying my spiritual breath...
and would act as though
a generic I'm sorry... sometimes laden with
condescension...would do...
oh...I was such a fool...
so manipulated and twisted in this
tangled fallacy of love...
and...in order to free myself...I had to
dismember myself...leaving behind
appendages... bits and pieces of self
still tangled within his hell...
and I may be
incomplete...
now that I am free...
and I may
still lament a love lost
to lies and the highest severity
of dishonesty...
but my wise mind
is now able to see...
Im FREE.
FINALLY.
spoke to the inner recesses
of my soul...
He came to me...
in a moment of adversity...
and he seemed to offer...
comfort...to me.
I so sincerely thought he was
just what i needed...
because love is blind...
I never heeded
the warning signs...
blinking like neon on a
Vegas strip...
I simply took the emotional trip with him...
and when I fell...he
held me for a little while...
and then he dropped me...
and he played this
vicious game of
cat and mouse with me...
he'd pick me back up and comfort me...
kiss away the pain and
whisper apologeties with lips pressed to
bruised and battered flesh...and I...
in all my naive stupidity wrapped up in a
comforting blanket of codependcy...
would listen to his words and
will myself to believe...
how could I ever have fallen prey to
such treachorous debauchery...
he...
made...
a fool of me.
Over and over again...he
never put his hands on me... oh no...
this was not one of those men to
ever mar or mark the flesh of a
woman...but he would
terrorize my soul...the very core of my being...
leaving me on the brink of
emotional death...
denying my spiritual breath...
and would act as though
a generic I'm sorry... sometimes laden with
condescension...would do...
oh...I was such a fool...
so manipulated and twisted in this
tangled fallacy of love...
and...in order to free myself...I had to
dismember myself...leaving behind
appendages... bits and pieces of self
still tangled within his hell...
and I may be
incomplete...
now that I am free...
and I may
still lament a love lost
to lies and the highest severity
of dishonesty...
but my wise mind
is now able to see...
Im FREE.
FINALLY.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
"....There's a somebody I'm longing to see,
I hope that he turns out to be
someone who'll watch over me.
I'm a little lamb who's lost in the woods
I know I could
Always be good
To one who'll watch over me....
Won't you tell him please
to put on some speed
follow my lead
oh, how i need
someone who'll watch over me....
someone to watch over me ."
"someone to watch over me" Ella Fitzgerald
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