Soaring: Flight 9

As I fly away from the home we’ve created in no time at all

38,000 feet up and I know if I fall… you’ll catch me

I just asked God to pinch me, I don’t really want to wake up

Is this a dream or the desires of my heart’s reality

Ask and It is Given was always a saying to me, a quote someone wrote

Then it was a book I read

TODAY it is like my butter and bread

Not margarine or spread… the butter that tastes just like it did when

I was eating those fresh pilsbury biscuits in the morning that mama baked

And as essential as the bread that fed 40,000

See people write poems about love all the time

Misconstruing lust and then creating a rhyme

Talking about the arch of the back or describing love as an addiction like heroin or crack

This isn’t that type of flow

The surface stuff is just that little bit more

That works … like two cosmic puzzle pieces that found one another

In the black hole of the outside world like the eight ball in the corner pocket

The trajectory of destiny … nothing can stop it

My next boyfriend became my last

Amidst my sarcasm and sass

I never feel more beautiful than when I am with you (because you can’t help but tell me every other second, time enough to breathe me in and repeat it again)

Somehow you do what you do so well and I’ll never be through

A piece of paper, the courts, or the ceremony will just be the worldly validation

Nothing is contrived, if organic is what this is or some sort of emancipation

I embrace it with my whole spirit, body, mind … and yes my SOUL

Cut from the same cloth…. WE are cut from the same cloth and now woven back together

The cloth that has you finishing my sentences and me yours

Has us serving each other, both on all fours

Because there’s no ego involved no superego or ID

Psychology doesn’t have a place in this game of minds because I grew up in your eyes and the mind games stopped at HELLO.. yup that’s where you had me

I no longer play with toys and no longer worry about boys and no longer listen to the noise of blablahblah what’s your name, what’s your sign, listen I can spit you a quick rhyme….

You croon me to sleep in that grown and sexy type way

I get lost in the raspiness at the back of your throat

God I love that sound… Lenny ain’t got nothin’ on you!

If the hills are alive with the sound of music.. your music is the himylayan mountains that stretch far beyond anything our simple grey matter could ever fathom

Because God ordained this union and HE is the keeper of our “bigger picture”

In sickness and health for poorer or richer

Words are no longer words, they are purpose driven lyrics and melodies

Equally yolked finally a union of pure RECIPROCITY

You are more than my everything … you are my anything, any time any place

Whether miles away or face to face

You and me are WE, and WE are one

Ahhhhh to grow old together…. I can’t wait ;)

Just looked out the window again… I’m awake and still soaring.  

UNTITLED

I want you to feel me on this…. Imagine or empathize

-Have you ever attempted to paddle a canoe without an oar?

-Have you ever attempted to paddle a canoe without an oar, upstream, against the wind?

-Have you ever attempted to paddle a canoe without an oar, upstream, against the wind, blindfolded, with weights on your feet?

-Have you ever attempted to paddle a canoe without an oar, upstream, against the gusting wind, blindfolded so you can’t see a thing, with heavy weights on your feet, and your right arm tied behind your back?

Such is life…. hope is on the horizon!

These lips have tasted the sweetness of self-fulfillment, accomplishment, and success; in an instant to turn around to see my life a drowning mess.

The detachment from that part of me that seeks the approval of SELF is a longing not to be understood by anybody else.

The river of life is a stream of CIRCUMSTANCES, HAPPENSTANCES, FAILED ROMANCES, SECOND CHANCES, PASSING GLANCES, PLUMITTING FINANCES

Drifting by as if to say ….. Row Row Row as fast as you can, you can’t catch me HAPPINESS is NOT the plan.

This too shall pass… the storm they say…

But, what happens when the clouds collect EVERY SINGLE DAY… the same tomorrow just like yesterday? 

The roaring rapids of failure and spite, The Art of War, the internal fight  obstructs your sight and remains your plight… if only someone … something would ignite the version of you that you fail to see… the one that has flesh and blood coursing through veins, rid of debris…… rid of distractions and sorrow.  Not the carcass of you that remains hollow .. the skeletal account of do wrongs and train reactions that brought you to this moment in time….. you’ve grown tired of the reasons and exhausted of the rhyme. 

‘Cuz what rhyme or reason is their to submit to the monotony, and scrutiny of the life you’ve NOT imagined for yourself… your envisage and no one else.  A holographic life that you can’t feel reaching out for something that’s real……

Woosah…..

It’s amazing what shifted thoughts can do….

A change in perspective or an alternate view.  

The other day, in the midst of the storm I looked to the sky.   Mostly questioning WHY?  WHY?  WHY?

Why me, why now, what reason… HOW?  And as the drops cascaded down my face… I found solace in that place…. The place that I was where I was suppose to be; exactly where my thought were free… Free to embrace the understanding of perspective and slay the powerlessness of being misdirected.  Get your mind RIGHT and your thoughts CLEAR…. you are your own captain; fearless NO FEAR!!

NO FEAR of what CAME or what is to COME.  NO FEAR of UNDOING or BEING UNDONE.  NO FEAR of the future or of the past.  NO FEAR that these idyllic feelings won’t last. 

This time you know that your rhyme will consist…… of nothing but CREATIVITY and BLISS.  Commitment to self, the one whom you know.  Seeds to be planted, and equipt to sew…   sew and reap, reap and sew acres upon acres of fruitful growth!!!

No longer a slave to CIRCUMSTANCE or HAPPENSTANCE.  Opening up to new ROMANCE.  Welcoming the second CHANCES and serendipitous double GLANCES.

The vocabulary of the psyche needs to be re-edited with limited edition thoughts of positivity and visions of your destiny that is yet to be…. Meant to be…..

Hope is on the horizon, it is here today.  Let the suns rays kiss your face and embrace every trace of goodness within. In a perceived moment of weakness you’ll find the strength to bridge you heart and your mind… it is there you’ll find the answers that will, will the windfall of blessings until….. you are shatterproof .  Hopelessness and despair will never engulf your SELF.  As you stumble and fall on the way, just remember that perspective and hindsight are here today.  You are the one that will determine your LIGHT at the end of the tunnel and discover an eternal clarity and SIGHT.

BITCH (Bringing Intellectual Thoughts Crying Help)

A female with something to say

Not just go FETCH, SIT, or STAY

(I leave that to my Gangsta-Cup she’s Sassy, & y’all know her as B-Nasty)

A higher education or experiential knowledge

Whether firing axons from the hard knocks or college

Not a cardboard cutout cookie cutter

Blue-eyed bandit with hair like butter

This is coming from a multi faceted mixed girl

That’s been trapped too long in a Hollyweird 66sixed world

Confined to the constructs of the mighty stars in the ground

And the blingged-out, rhinestone-encrusted micro T-PAININ’ sounds

That regurgitate every where you go

Calling it Hip Hop, but not the Hop that was Hip in 1994

Loving’ the B-Girls that six step down the street

That can recite any of Dre’s the CHRONIC at the drop of a beat

Now it’s songs of Louboutin’s and Grills or “Icy”

Synthetic cakes and titties and …. HOW TO directions on how to snag an entertainer slash athlete and become a “Wifey”,

Not a “Wife” or a “Mate”

Just mind games and gimmicks and hot sex on a plate

Wish someone would croon, “You’re my LADY, You’re my LADY”           

And mean it….

I’m not trippin’ off chivalry, that’s been dead for a minute

Just a mini-search for some “been raised rights” that know how to pick a good fight

If we’re talking abortion, politics, or religion…

No raising of voices; just strategic word placement & precision

Precise reasoning and thought processes with Cognitive awareness of the subject matter and why it matters

Not rapping about “How my pocket’s gon’ get fatter”

Art imitates life, imitates art, imitates life, imitates art…

Sometimes it’s beautiful that we can’t tell them apart

But what part of art is the garbage disposal of the plummeting educational system And MTV/BET/Videogame Wisdom

Can we even COMPARE  … them to the

Greats like Picasso, Renoir or Thoreau & Voltaire

It’s no wonder our young ones are turning to the gutter for inspiration

And seeking cyber solutions to quench their frustration

The trickle effect is so deep we couldn’t scoop it out with a shovel if we tried

Special interest groups are rampant and our overpaid officials beaming with pride

So much pride they’re knee deep on the wrong side of the white line that they vowed to never cross,

Now obsessed and blinded with the new title as BOSS…

Narcissistic monsters drown out the cries of our children that can’t read books because of these money hungry high salaried crooks

Which brings us back to the subject at hand

At what point will our evolution as woman and man

Trump the excess static we impose upon ourselves

With chords and wires instead of literature on our shelves

A society that degrades our children, our grand-mama’s and pops, the young and the old; our land and our crops

When will it stop, and who will it stop with?

Charity money being collected and disappearing into an abyss, of range rovers and seemingly fortunate million dollar homes being bought

Be an exec at FEMA or the Red Cross and you’ll get a lot of residual stock

Who’s keeping us accountable to our own convictions?

With individual agendas and ulterior missions…

I’m just a multi-faceted female with something to say

Call me a BITCH as I pass your way, because I refuse to go FETCH, SIT, or STAY