Archive for August, 2009

August 29, 2009

a natural remedy.

I want to lie on the greenest pasture

And feel the dampness of the earth beneath me

I want lie on a plank of wood

And float gently upon a knowing lake

I want to lie on a beach

Until the tide rises

And washes away my thoughts

Without judgment

I want to lie there until the sun sets

And wraps my body in a blanket of its rays

Without hidden agenda

I want to seek refuge in the bosom

Of Mother Nature

And let the beat of her heart

Calm my soul

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August 28, 2009

Egyptian Musk…

Reminds me of simpler times…
When doing nothing was fun
And you went outside for no reason at all
When HOT 97 was the shit
And your friends asked you to make copies of mix tapes you made yourself from the radio…
Even though you heard the DJ’s voice between each song
When your prized possessions were your bamboo earrings
And all the girls dressed like tomboys
When everything was “FRESH”
And there was no SOURCE magazine, just Black Beat and Right On!
And you ripped out all the pages of LL Cool J and Rakim to paste on your bedroom wall
When everyone stopped what they were doing Thursdays at 8pm to watch the Cosby Show
When Nightmare on Elm Street was scary shit
And the Fourth of July was actually fun
When summer time was the best season
And friendships were really real
Damn Egyptian Musk!
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August 26, 2009


Thirty-two years ago today is when I took my first breath.  Thirty-two years… Thirty-two years…  As I repeat it to myself,  the enormity of it is clear to me.

16,773,120 minutes.  I rushed through so many of them.  My mind will never recall most of them.  And every sixty seconds, that number grows.   I have wished for so many moments to fly, so that I could be closer to some other time.  Some other occurrence that was more important than the moment that I was in.  Truth is, as each moment passes, what we are closer to the unknown.  This life, this day, this very moment is all we truly have.

I was sitting at my desk yesterday while a woman a block away from me took her last breath.  Hit by a car as she stood waiting for the bus.  That was it.  That moment was her last.  She might have been planning dinner in her head, or thinking about an upcoming vacation.  But sadly, those moments were not in the cards for her.  Those moments will happen without her.

So much of my life is a blur.  Of course the big things stand out in my mind, the special times, unforgettable times…good and bad, but all the moments I spent planning other moments, those took up the most time.

I am truly blessed to have the honor of celebrating another year of LIFE.  I would like to make a commitment to myself to focus on my goals this year…but still appreciating all the precious moments till I get there.  I want to take more photos, and journal more. I want to remember more of the moments that are my life.

Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away. ~Charles Caleb Colton

The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is. ~C. S. Lewis

Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you. ~Carl Sandburg

Some of my moments this year…

August 18, 2009

the person you once knew.

I’m coming home to you
As the person you once knew
Things have happened
Changed us
You and me
But I still feel you
In the tender spots
That still resemble us
I wonder if you see my fight
The endless struggle
The uphill battle
That has kept me from you
The person you once knew
Almost unrecognizable
But I still feel you
In the places where you originated
In the places that make my smile pure
And my laughter real
I’m coming home to you
As the me you once knew
This walk home has been the longest
But I imagine you there waiting for me
The person you once knew
As I walk up the stairs
My insides feel tight
I can feel the closeness of you
Just moments of way
From standing before you
The person you once knew
I knock on the door
And hold my head down
Feeling the shame of being gone for so long
I can see the knob turning
And the door open slow…
I pick my head up to see your face…
My face…
The person I once was
Meeting the person you once knew
You take me in your arms
And instantly
The other me evaporates
And all that’s left of me
Is you
The person you once knew.
August 14, 2009


i might show you my breast
because i’m thinking then maybe
you’d show me yours
i might tell you how i taste
then maybe you’d like to try me
and again
i may look at you slyly
maybe then you’d come to me
maybe the tension is high
and you’ve had enough
maybe you’d rip
every article from
my trembling body
maybe you’d fling me
onto the bed
while you undress
look at me angrily
biting your lip
maybe i’d part my legs
then maybe you’d hurry
lay your body over mine
take your hand
run it across my
filthy mouth
smear my lipstick
make a mess of me
kiss me like theres been
a thousand nights
of hungering
let me feed you
nourish you
maybe i’d beg you
my naked body
on my knees
maybe you’d make me
earn it
and make me do
smutty things
maybe i’d like it
and it’d only make me wetter
beg you louder
maybe you’d slap my face
and tell me i’m not ready yet
and you’d torture me
a while longer
maybe i’d love it
if you’d do all these things
maybe it’s time we take it there
i’m thinking maybe you want it too
August 13, 2009

funny things, those voids.


voids.  you feel them as if they are quite literally holes.  empty spaces where something should be.  the heart.  the mind. the body.  will instinctively seek to fill voids.  we become hungry when the body needs food.  thirsty when the body needs fluids.  the physical voids are easy to fill. but the mental and emotional voids are the most difficult. when your heart is craving love.  when your body is yearning to be touched.  there isnt a 24hr mini mart with shelves stocked with love and affection.  when you are yearning for the embrace of a father that left you too soon.  that void is forever unfillable.  we sometimes satisfy our voids with fillers. temporary fixes to the deep dark endless voids within us.

i watch myself as if from the outside.  reaching for things.  grasping them as if they are the last.  shoving them into my voids. knowing they are not what my heart. mind. and body need.

i have been putting cooking oil in my tank for some time now. fully aware that my shit will be smoking within a miles distance. but maybe at the end of that mile the real thing will be there waiting for me right?  wrong!  seldom is.   and the void knows when its been filled with some imitation shit.  it’ll spit it right back out, and give you the side eye.

funny things, those voids.

August 11, 2009

never ending…

your love is like a never ending echo



the places you touched

still feel you

your love is like a never ending


in the silky blue waters

of our once upon a time


your love is like a never ending kiss

like chocolate covered anything

and fresh morning mimosas

like exotic cheeses

and fine wine

like scented candles and peach body wash

like autumn midday naps

and hot cocoa with marshmallows

your love is like a never ending trip

to a place that feels like home

your love feels close to me still

it feels never ending.

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August 7, 2009


this is going to be a bumpy ride.

an “are we there yet” kind of experience.

my thoughts are here, there and everywhere.


man has found a way to put a label on everything.

has created words to describe the indescribable.

LOVE even has a definition in the dictionary as if it can really be defined.


  1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
  2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion of sex and romance.
    1. Sexual passion.
    2. Sexual intercourse.
    3. A love affair.
  3. An intense emotional attachment, as for a pet or treasured object.
  4. A person who is the object of deep or intense affection or attraction; beloved. Often used as a term of endearment.
  5. An expression of one’s affection: Send him my love.
    1. A strong predilection or enthusiasm: a love of language.
    2. The object of such an enthusiasm: The outdoors is her greatest love.
  6. Love Mythology. Eros or Cupid.
  7. often Love Christianity. Charity.
  8. Sports. A zero score in tennis.


man has even written a book.  called it the bible. and deemed it the right way to live.  the right way to love. the only way to truly know God.  and adherence to the rules within this man-made book is the only way to enter the pearly gates of heaven…as if there are iron workers in heaven.

each time i have loved. my definition of love has evolved.  each time i said I LOVE YOU. i meant it. i meant with all my heart knew of love, at that time.

i remember being five years old or so, and standing before my mother as she knelt down to fiddle with my scarf. she wrapped it in a way only a mother can. air tight. i knew that was love.  i remember asking her… “mommy, why do you let daddy hit you?” i knew that wasnt love.

funny though, i knew that wasnt love, but it was all i knew. and i would know it first hand.

before i knew i was gay.

before i knew what love really was.

before i had any business loving anybody.

when all i wanted was attention.

i loved him.

and he loved me too.

he told me so.

he said, “i love you so much.  I will break both your legs if you ever leave me.”

he said, “i love you so much.  I will kill you if you ever cheat on me.”

crazy, but it felt like love to me.  i thought wow… he REALLY loves me!

i was only twelve years old. and it was the only concept of love i had ever known.

he went to jail shortly after confessing his love to me.

when he came home from prison.  he found out something that i had done (another post).  he called me upstairs. he lived in the apartment above mine.  i ran up.  he greeted me by the door.  i dont recall him saying anything.  he slapped me hard across the face. it stung.  i was paralyzed. in complete disbelief. BAM….again, and again, and again.  i felt the warm stream of fear trickling down my legs.  he was yelling at me. but i cant tell you what he said.  i havent a clue.  when he dismissed me, i ran down the stairs. into my apartment. to my bed. and cried. he called me later that night to say he was sorry. i was happy to hear from him.

fast forward.

summer of 1993. i was fifteen. our one month old daughter was sleeping in the crib. it was about 4am.  we were watching a movie. i was eating   chef boyardee ravioli. he started questioning me about the same incident that happened back in 1991. a knot formed in the pit of my stomach.  and just as i had anticipated.  the ravioli went flying. my eyes became wide as i looked at the intensity in his.  he had this evil look about him when he became enraged.  he asked me questions, and ended each question with a powerful slap to my face. each one harder than the last. or maybe my skin just became more sensitive with each blow.  i backed myself onto the sofa and hugged my knees.  he punched my legs as i buried my head into my arms. he jerked my body out of the ball i had formed myself into.  and wrapped his hands tight around my neck.  crazy how your body reacts to intense fear.  its as if your brain goes into some kind of self preservation mode.  and it can no longer waste any brain cells on things like bladder control. i felt a gush of warmth escape me. it almost felt good. his grip was terrifying.  i felt my face. the horror that was all over it.  the look on his was worse.  blank. angry. emotionless. he took me into the room and held my face over the crib.  said some taunting things about me never seeing our daughter again.  pushed me into the corner of the room. and began punching me all over. twice in the face. my legs. my stomach.  when i keeled over in pain. he punched me on my back.  the sun had come up.  my mother heard the commotion and began knocking on our locked bedroom door. he told me to tell her to go away.  each time she knocked. he slapped me in the face and told me to tell her to go away. this happened several times until she noticed the pattern.  finally she stopped.  he told me to lay down. i did. he plopped himself down next to me. i cried and sniffled as quietly as i could. i told him i had to pee.  he gestured for me to go.  i held my head in my hands as i sat on the toilet.  i flushed and turned on the water. i stared at my reflection. bruised. puffy. red. scared. i left the water on and ran. i ran out of the apartment. and kept running. i was barefoot.  with nothing on but a night shirt. no panties.  i approached a man who was standing in his doorway talking to another man.  now in a panic with tears streaming down my face i begged him to use his phone. he pulled his friend inside and slammed the door. i just kept running.  i noticed someone in their kitchen, and knocked on their door.  i told them it was an emergency, and begged them to use their phone.  the man looked around for a minute and opened the door for me to come in.  he sat me down and his pregnant wife inquired silently about the almost naked hysterical girl in her kitchen.  he handed me the phone and she rubbed my back. it hurt but her touch felt comforting.  i called the police. the husband gave me a pair of shorts to put on. i wanted to stay with them.

i arrived back at the house to find him putting our infant daughter in his car.  he drove off.  i ran after the car with every ounce of strength  i had.  i could hear the sirens not far behind me.

he was arrested.

the day was long after that. painful. i had never in my life been hit before.  oddly enough, my father NEVER struck me.  he slapped me one time when i got a little too crazy playing rough with him.  he whooped me with his belt another time after i had run away for two days.  but it was funny to me. didnt hurt. i could tell he didnt want to.

i didnt press charges. he stood away for a while.  talked about moving to north carolina. but he was back home in less than two weeks.  he made me destroy the photos of my black eyes and bruised body.  i stood nine more years. and suffered many more torturous episodes. only difference was, i think he realized, the less evidence the better. so he stuck with mostly throwing me around, fear tactics and choking.

i remember one time he was angry with me about some shit.  i was in the bathroom using a curling iron.  he snatched the cord from the socket that was above my head.  and the metal part of the plug hit me in the face.  on the soft skin right under my eye.  i flinched and instinctively shut my eyes as it struck me.  when i opened them, there was this single red stream of blood pouring down my face.  as if i was crying blood.  he sucked his teeth and walked away. he felt stupid because he hadnt intended to go that far. but was too much of an asshole to comfort me.

i just stood there staring at myself.

with all i knew. and didnt know.

i knew this wasnt love.

August 5, 2009

unconditional. and flawless.

her love was exquisite.  she treated me like a queen. our meeting was somewhat of a blind date.  but not a date really.  her friend, who was my friends new love interest thought we would hit it off.  they did a drive by.  i should say i was still living with the father of my children.  we were not together at the time and trying to go our separate ways.  what us not being together meant was that he could do what he wanted to do and i had better not think about doing shit.  i remember when i first told him that i was into women.  i had only just discovered it myself.  he was very excited.  that was until he noticed what type of women i was into.  i still get a good laugh out of that one.  anyway they came by and i was completely smitten with her. her…not so much.  i understood.  i was still living with the asshole.  but we continued to speak.  and shortly there after, drive by number two.  she smelled so good.  like fresh laundry and some other scent that made me horny. she was leaning back on the hood of her car.  after some heavy flirting, she pulled me to her. one of her legs between mine.  i pressed into her.  thinking back on it now.  it was such a great first kiss.  not that it was incredibly romantic.  but her lips felt so good. her kiss quite literally made my body feel weak.  i closed my eyes and let her kiss me.  let myself feel her.

over the next few months, i fell so madly in love with her.  and her love was exquisite.  she was generous with her soul. with her love.  her smile touched me deeply.  she took good care of me.  she cooked for me.  she made love to me.  she showered me with compliments.  she left me love notes in packed lunches.  she made my birthdays memorable.  she humored me. she did the things i liked to do because she loved to see me happy.  she let me be free.  she encouraged my dreams.  she let me cry when i needed to.  she took me in her arms and offered me a rare kind of silent support not many know.  she massaged me when my body ached.  and when it didnt.  her arms felt like love.  it was beautiful.  we had wonderful times.  getting kicked out of @lovergirlnyc for fucking in the bathroom. sex in my car. in her car. on top of my car. by the chain link fence in front of my car. in hotel rooms. waiting for the hotel rooms.  her sex felt like…fuck damn shit. sex that makes you want to curse and say foul nasty whorish things. sex that made me look at her like she was in trouble. like what the fuck.

her soul was so pure. she never spoke lies.  her expression was always sincere.  her love was true and real. at times it was overwhelming. she would fall back when she saw i needed “me time.”  it was as if she was taught. the right way to love.  i was older than her by 3 yrs.  but i learned from her.  it was the first time i had ever known love.  her love felt like greatness. like being in the presence of a higher power.

she had flaws.  but in hindsight. they were nothing really.  nothing that wouldnt have changed with time.  she was immature.  she was not intellectual. though she wanted to learn because she knew i needed mental stimulation.

she was my shadow. i started to feel more like her mommy than her girl.  she let me be.  she let me breathe.  too much. my mind wandered.

we’d break up. but never really. until finally we did.

i was horrible to her. mean. a cunt. the cuntiest of cunts.  my eyes tear as i recall the sadness in hers.  the pleas.  the pain i caused. my heart still hurts.  it was so wrong. the way i disposed of her.

i think of her often. she is happy now. and her girlfriend is a lucky woman. im happy for her. i only wish i had ended things differently. she didnt derserve what i did. and i didnt deserve her. in hindsight. i was the immature one. the one with flaws. but she didnt see that. because her love was unconditional. and flawless.

August 4, 2009

a sexless lie.

never in my life have i been in a more functional dysfunctional relationship.  i have stopped trying to define it.  i can only tell you it is both wonderful and wrong.  it is healthy and toxic.  it is comforting and disturbing.  and the comfort-ability of it all makes me feel uncomfortable.  we’re on we’re off.  we’re hot we’re cold.  we’re just all over the place.

my previous significant relationships were so different.  they made me feel like a lady.  would grab my hand to cross the street.  keep me on the inside of the sidewalk.  take heavy bags from me.  tell me i was sexy.  make me feel safe.  i loved it.  in fem/ag relationships there are these kinds of predetermined roles.  i am completely aware that we are both women… so its not as if i would see my boo struggling with 5 bags and not grab some because i am the fem. lol… i am simply stating the small gestures that made me feel good.

in my previous relationships, sex was never an issue.  we had the same sexual appetite.  they learned my body.  my likes. dislikes. i felt free to be myself sexually.  ok so i cant be the only one who has a sexual alter ego. lol.  kind of like how beyonce turns into sasha fierce.  yeah.  during sex i turn into someone else. i think im a porn star. a sex kitten. ok so thats another post all together.  my point is that sex was never an issue, in a negative way.  my partners have always made me feel like i was sexually desirable.  there was no place or time that was off limits when the mood struck us.  and if you are mine, and i am yours.  i dont mind being a nasty whore for you.  some ppl think its tacky. i guess it might be.  but who the fuck cares?  didnt bother me in the least being eaten out on the hood of my car in the parking lot of the hotel we had just finished fucking in.  still one of my fondest memories.

present girl/time.

im not sure what we are anymore. but we are sexless.  1.5yrs sexless.  now we have been somewhat intimate on two occasions during this period.  but both times were because i initiated it.  DOUBLE U – TEE – EFF?  this has done major damage to my ego.  but this lack of, i dont even know what to call it…doesnt stop in the bed.  we’ll be walking… i’ll be talking…i will look to my side…. and she’ll be across the street.  honestly it is moments like that, that make me feel like i am in the twilight zone.

“do you want me to carry that bag?”  my thing is, why do you have to ask????  just take the damn bag.  take some initiative…some control. FUCK!  im not used to this shit.

Now i should say.

she is an amazing person.  truly my best friend.  i love her.  she is loyal without doubt.  trustworthy without question.  selfless. she gets me.  i dont think i have ever laughed harder with another.  i can be 200% myself.

but there are issues. lots of them.

i’ve only had relations with black women.  well except one… but that was just one night of intense sex… and she was half black.  anyway SHEs my first hispanic girlfriend which offers me something that i havent experienced before.  her family gatherings feel like home to me…like my own family…a mutual appreciation and love for all things latin.  it feels nice.  BUT she is also the first woman who isnt “aggressive.”  i mean she shops in the mens department, but that does not a boi make. and this is a big thing for me.  i love aggressive women.  my last ex was a cop…holy shit…thats all im going to say about her.  some times i would like to be the damsel in distress and be able to have my strong woman come to my rescue. i feel like the boi in this relationship…no no no…this is all WRONG.


She likes when I do this thing.  when I graze her skin with my fingertips.  I do it of my own free will.  At times she will request it.  she likes when I stroke her hair while we watch TV.  Again I do this without having to be asked.  Ummm HELLO I have fucking skin.  A bitch wants to be stroked too.  I don’t want to have to ask.  I want her to want to touch me. Why wont she.  Make love to me. Fuck me.  It is beyond frustrating. and painful to admit.  I don’t want to feel untouchable. unfuckable.


i wanted to see Nights in Rodanthe.  she didnt. so WE didnt.  i didnt see LOTS of movies because they werent her “type” of movie.  OK.  i get it. BUT. you are in a relationship with someone who likes ALL kinds of movies (except some SciFi) so cant you compromise a little? its like the Bodies Exhibit…wasnt my thing…but she wanted to go… i entertained it.  it didnt kill me.  we have lots of differences.  but for every negative, there are two positives.


all that being said.  what the fuck are we? best friends who live together?  an asexual couple?

im lost.  i’ve lost myself in this.

i think shes lost herself too.

so we’re both lost and clinging to something that feels somewhat secure?

it’s a sexless lie.