Romantic matter


I just wanted one of your lovely writes on my page for everyone to see :)

Originally posted on Wuji Seshat Nibada:


To wait for soul mates is a paradox
why not create them, from
the art of communication?
or from resolve of commitment?

that which takes a lifetime to perfect
until we say so easily

“tell me dearest one, how can
you have reached so far
inside my heart?”

what if you find your soul mate
at the wrong time, is it then
bad timing or will you let
life teach you the lessons of love?

with grace and tenderness
the amazement of friendship
the sanctuary of romance
are beautiful at any age

do we make space for them?
I’ll be lucky if I know how

to create space for intimacy in my life
adversity might bring me closer
to you, my ever loveliest companion

so I shall not despair, when I am
alone, you are nearest
when I am busy, will you wait for me?

You who make me feel…

View original 45 more words

the letter…see, say something – Haibun

I said something when my mouth drew up with baby X’s creating straight lines (had already transitioned)…your eyes widened for a second, your head declined then and you closed. My lips quivered as inexperience couldn’t translate into words but don’t act like you didn’t know how I died, with a rope…swinging (teddy lying underneath) or you heard me by the tears collecting a puddle to trample threw, medicated yourself with some corner brew and I’m still growing. While precious and formerly innocent thanks to the man you’re married to, I’m not 11 yet but see I’mma fall and git me a child from somebody else’s intimate hug while you have watched.


Don’t mind me cause there’s life’s cold crimson right now spattered in your house, on the basement walls, in my room that you bought and paid for,  (on your hands)  but I’m a child who run this. I ain’t paid no bills, came into this world with all the frills. I say what’s off limits and you pay the tow. I come to this world owing nothing.  Ain’t but two minutes off laying low something, right now it’s a cat somewhere screaming in pain or maybe a carnivorous video game…I’m playing.  I’m gone be famous ‘fore I turn 18, take a few people with me know what I mean, cause if you don’t know who your child is by now, here’s Johnny…you finding out something, scratching your head how?



I’m young and black (did I mention I was black). My daddy left early with my mama struggling and cracked, no man to hold me down and no matter how I try there’s nobody around to show me I’m something more… but I overcome. Go to college and put it to it, made it out the real hood, got good grades and one weekend I’m in the wrong place (some random street I don’t know anything about). I turned down a funny street and I got lost, somehow meeting up with these two cops where I attempt to explain but they don’t wanna hear my voice, don’t wanna know my name, don’t know I got good grades, a good reputation, don’t know I overcame cause all they saw was “nothing”…they heard I was black, most remember…brains burn with that?  Well…I used to be


said something we refused to acknowledge

saw what we hoped… things will turn out polished

if ignored it must go away…as long as we were present

it would be okay …P R E S E N T


all in a definition

Little Known Black History Fact: Joyce Bryant


The first dark skinned sex symbol.

Originally posted on Black America Web:

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Singer and entertainer Joyce Bryant may not be a household name, but her contributions to the entertainment world are noteworthy just the same. The retired vocalist and vocal coach is regarded by some to be the first dark-skinned sex symbol, earning her the nickname “Black Marilyn Monroe.”


Bryant was born in Oakland, Calif. on October 14, 1928. She was raised primarily in San Francisco in a strict, Seventh-day Adventist household. As a teenager, she landed her first paid singing gig after a a cousin dared her to enter a contest in Los Angeles.

With that first taste for fame, Bryant began doing weekly gigs in New York and touring resort hotels nationwide. As noted by Bryant’s documentary producer and biographer Jim Byers, Bryant had to use more than her four-octave voice to stand out.

When Bryant was set to share the stage with Josephine she painted…

View original 295 more words

no…I make love for dayz

so indulgent it has been in mine


love might not love nobody

but it sho’ love itself some me

cause I have smoked it from tight intricate spaces

like air inside a mason jar sitting in a window blazing

from the sun too long

through each encounter managed

not to loose dignity

or the second half of my La Perla collection

despite affections erupting

still giving me his play

while he…he becomes stitch by stitch undone

barely cognizant til threads escape

though he never jumped that far back

he kept charging this direction


he assigned different shapes

Omar, Hakim and Lateef

making my acquaintances in grocery stores

shopping malls… at dinner quietly lit

fixating on the tint of gloss until

turning mesmerized

trying not to let his gaze slip

between scoops of sweet potato pie

after occasional sips of taupe bubbles

suspended above crystal stems


such hearts pined (so did mine) and why shouldn’t they

with my serving as confidant good company perceptions entwining

haven from mama when he done worked her last nerve

what is needed for serenity


so I ask…why shouldn’t he


incidentally there is a secret

many of us forget

he revels in the chase if we

don’t pet and cajole him too soon

we can still show him the moon

from the grass if we allow so

much time to wither…pass


then you are open to minutes





…(feel like I’m forgetting something)


and so I proceed…making love

floral of gratitude and sound

negligent with blessings

left them on the floor stepping on top of them

crushing… not seeing I might get more

 treating the ones retrieved as if appreciated

without underrating considering faded

skating past them behaving comparable to some Olympic glide

while tuned to begging in double toned shepherd essence

released from obedient school

not to take them for granted but politely rescue

their residuals from the ground

expose benefits throwing no undue shade

I could be all the fairer… if I let them

shower their magic thanking the one bestowing quantity

never imagined

multiply as prolifically as I could afford

possibly I should commence to bended levels

with chin covered decollate clasped palms making attempts at atonement

owing the last drop of rain for the meadows debut

beds that spring petals they ballad to

therefore, I should reclaim these blessings

play for them chords of various mellow


a rich banishment of hapless exclusions

done rained on your head but i’ll be around

could have been anchor to shoulder

if only regarding me

noticed past forest of jealousy jaundiced then nurturing

thick and dense too murky but determined to swim

my lone soul offering the saving limb

rejected over those you thought would ally…be there

smearing a heart as if nothing rare was at stake

mistreating weak foundation…knew you weren’t going anywhere

would be able to manipulate…malign you

feminine rendition of “Pinocchio”

use until we couldn’t decipher anything only life’s shred

like a starving infant suckling for punishment

conclusions seemingly coveted

so naive I wanted to spare poisoned figments

fevered imagination but you went orbiting

ejected into a journey of despair already in pieces

trying to meld cracks together

running toward a destination difficult to burden

but I’ll  stand down for power to kick in

hoping some ray of clarity before the last minute

sorry, no pills for this brutishness

demolishing of self


waiting as it all falls down

you gone let them rain on your head

look this way…I would have loved


I will cover you