Posts tagged ‘RAMBLING’

June 4, 2010

i want to..

i want to make out in the pouring rain; fly a kite; ride a double bike; bake a pie; make love on the beach; make a million dollars; see the world; kiss a dolphin; ride a wave; ride a horse along the beach; sail a boat; paint on canvas; ride an elephant; rescue an animal; write a song; make a wish come true for someone; tie the knot; protest; be published; travel for a year; live my dreams;)

June 2, 2010

over under.





being so selfless

has me feeling self-less

over this


over that

has me feeling

under the weather

overstated some shit

underestimated some other shit

feeling run over

and taken under

over thinking

and under-living

so over

being under

January 8, 2010

What does my ideal boi/ag/stud look like??

Lord!  The question alone causes a very dorky smile to reside on my face…

First let me say that mi corazon belongs to the bois!!!!

All my girlfriends with the exception of my last girlfriend (Colombian) and a recent fling (Dominican) have been Black… that has always been my preference… although there was something culturally comforting and SEXY about being with a Latina.

When @theoriginalteam (my papi…muah lol) posed this question today on twitter, I got all excited and couldn’t restrict my answer to 140 characters.

My ‘ideal’ boi… of course some things are negotiable lol
has strong hands and arms…
soulful eyes…
is at least 5’6″
has a sexy fucking walk……
a commanding presence…
versatile wardrobe…
can rock a button down and slacks…
but looks just as sexy in sweats and timbs…
fades…locs… ponytails… wild curls…
kissable lips…
killer smile…
boxers/boxer briefs…
knows how to romance me…
but knows how i like to be told…
to get my ass in the kitchen and cook dinner…
just has that irresistable boi’ish sex appeal that drives me freakin crazy dammit!
Where the hell is she???
October 30, 2009



Your hearts desires


raging fires

that cannot

be extinguished

with logic

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 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.

July 24, 2009

dont you judge me.

you can beat me.  use a stick if you wish. tear into me.  like a goodie filled pinata.  receive a shower of words.  that define who i am.  be forewarned.  they are not candy coated sugary goodness.  my glass ain’t always half full.  and sometimes the silver lining is out of sight.  i wont always feel good about not having shit.  because others have less shit.  some days i will count my blessings.  other days i will be too busy dodging bullets to admire the rainbow to my back.  sometimes i will complain.  some nights i will cry.  most times my blessings feel plentiful.  and a wave of foolishness causes my cheeks to flush with embarrassment.  i am passionate.  emotional.  vocal. forgiving.  sympathetic. volatile.  complex. aware.  a lover.  a fighter by nature.  my strength is endless.  often tested but never  beaten.  been beaten but not broken.  i done been broken.  but still in working condition.  thankful and humble  i am.  so don’t you judge me.

July 7, 2009

There you go…

and teasing
saying nothing much really
but driving me crazy
as if you are saying
SEXY passionate things
there you go
doing nothing
touching everything
there you go
getting me open
there you go
making me want you
crave you
you have no clue
what you do
but there you go…
July 6, 2009

I hope…

I hope I will really see my father again one day
And I hope there really is a better place
I hope LOVE really does conquer ALL
And if it does
I hope people get to LOVING
I hope people realize WAR does not create PEACE
And wars NEVER truly END
I hope one day we will all be recognized as equal
And realize that we were given the gift of sight
So we could appreciate the beauty of the world
I hope one day people will realize the suffering
We cause in the name of FOOD and RESEARCH
And the disregard we have for life that WE DEEM insignificant
I hope one day MONEY won’t be more important than LIFE
And we will CURE  instead of prescribing drugs that KILL
I hope one day we will need a license to REPRODUCE
And maybe children will be born to parents that actually WANT them
I hope a good education will one day be available to ALL
And having EQUAL knowledge will EQUAL the playing field
I hope OBAMA really keeps all his PROMISES
And makes us PROUD to prove the ignorant folk WRONG
I hope Hurricane Katrina taught us a LESSON
And we never see RACISM so clearly again
I can only hope…
June 19, 2009

What if I told you…


…that I am so lonely…  that my yearning has turned to hunger… that my longing is nocturnal… and my soul feels tired… I need an internal massage…to soothe my weary everything… because it takes everything in me… to keep living without your LOVE… what if I told you… I am so tired of writing about longing and yearning…wanting and craving….desire and future LOVE… I tell myself we are already together in spirit…I close my eyes… and imagine you closing yours… I wonder if you can feel me… where I am…I wonder if you’d hurry… if I told you I  LOVE you…