abstractfammoon

See Butta’s fly

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candibutta by Shirlena

Diamond-0

diamondbutta by Shirlena

Dot-page0001

dotbutta by Shirlena

earthbutta

earthbutta by Shirlena

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wizcitybutta by Shirlena

Scarlett-page0001

scarletbutta by Shirlena

soulflower

soulflowerbutta by Shirlena

Purplesky-page-0

purplesky by Shirlena

 

balancingact

balancing act by Shirlena

 

Black

Blackbutta by Shirlena

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Bleubutta by Shirlena

busybutta

Busybutta by Shirlena

Butta1-page-0

Buttabuttafly by Shirlena

abstractfammoonMrSunnysun-page-0

Love with an L7

Love with an L 7

 

 

Sunday rolls around and the decisive moment has arrived, “You’re going to sink or swim sis,” I said to myself as I approached the magazine counter in the main hall of the congregation. There he was standing there, striking figure in his mixed print bow tie with a dark pinstriped suit. He looked up and over his Peabody glasses, smooth, pale mocha complexion…”Aah Hmmm”, Focus, focus, I say,”, bringing myself back to the purpose at hand.

 

I asked him how he was doing. He responded in like manner. I was conscious of my surroundings so as to seize the moment while no paths were clear. Commenting on one of the magazines at the book counter, I noticed an article on music, “Perfect”, I thought although I ain’t bit mo’ interested in no piano.

 

“I see there’s an article here on music. Have you had a chance to read it yet?” I asked. He stated that he had not yet but would get to it as it was of special interest to him. I took this as an opportunity to probe, “Why, do you play in a band in your spare time or something?”

 

He replied, “No, but I teach piano.” “Bing!” There I jumped for the opening. “So you teach huh? How long have you been teaching it?” He said, “Since I was a teenager, on and off or when I find people who are interested.” “Would you be willing to take on another student?”

 

I smiled. “I’ve always wanted to learn the piano. I had an organ as a kid, sort of sparked my interest in piano.” He looked a little startled at first. He stammered out, “Uh, well,(sounding like Braxton P. Hartnabrig), I would love to but I won’t be able to start up lessons again until the fall. I am taking on extra time in the ministry for the summer.

 

Would lessons in the fall be okay with you?” I smiled answering, “Sure, we can talk more about it later if you’d like but I guess I had better take a seat now that the meeting is about to start. Oh and, thank you for the magazines Roger. “ I walked away trying to contain my wicked wiggle, eyes rolling around, sighing relief getting over that hurdle.

 

I figured I had done enough for 30 minutes and would not create any new circumstance for a couple weeks or until enough time has passed, in order not to rush the situation. Over the next few weeks, he and I continued to make it a point to speak to each other. I also found out I would be in the same study group that he, “Mr. Sexy Professor” himself, would be conducting. I am thinking, “Aaaah, I get to be all up on him… close and personal.

 

This should make for an easier conquest on my part. I later told Bren, my best friend since we were teenagers, about how he and I were going to be in close quarters of each other in the study group so he can tease me with his brain. Bren, (partner in crime) was excited and elated, as only she could be to hear about the way things seemed to be coming together, of course, and of course, I felt good!

 

I felt even better than THAT since Bren put the idea of this little joining of him and me in my head. This idea also came with a condition…for me to have mercy because I might be too much for him.  Instigator.

 

 

Laying on hands: hand reflexology

For many there is a leaning toward the spiritual aspect, getting in tuned with the mind and body. Realizing mostly women, suffer stress through their upper neck to mid back brings to mind the subject of an amazing and surprisingly simple way to possibly heal yourself. (It has actually worked) The method of reflexology, considerably through the hands, is a great source to eliminate minor aches and pains due to stress. Keep reading.

Hand Reflexology is equally as effective as foot reflexology, however in the UK, it is not as well known. There are reflex points on the hands that correspond to every organ, gland and part of the body and by using the unique thumb and finger techniques on these reflexes, the body responds by relaxing, rebalancing and improving blood circulation.

The hands are not as sensitive as the feet and the reflex points are much deeper, however a hand reflexology treatment can be extremely beneficial.

Hand reflexology can be used at the start or end of a traditional foot reflexology treatment, or as a stand-alone treatment in its own right. It is particularly useful to use when a foot is injured or where a client is unable to elevate their leg. It may also be used for self-help and is often demonstrated by the practitioner to enable the client to use reflexology techniques in-between appointments.

Incidentally, not all training schools teach hand reflexology, however, the International Institute of Reflexology is committed to ensuring that all of its graduates are professional in both feet and hand reflexology techniques, using the Original Ingham Method.

So, if you’re not a person with a one track mind and doesn’t cringe at stepping out of the conventional circle from time to time, hand reflexology therapy is an alternative for non-threatening issues of the body. It might just do a body good.

 

talk about hair

Talk About “Good” Hair

Sorry India we love you but sure we are our hair. The song is correct in expressing the inner conflict that exist regarding black hair and appearance but there is the pressure to fit into the European image; an indelible impression that somehow straighter tresses are tied into the ideology of ultimate beauty. However, plain and simple… a woman is good if her hair is good. She can look frumpy with a jogging suit on from the neck down or not be as pulled together in her attire but as long as her hair is whipped, she is Queen Nefertiti with an entourage (waving, finger snap)!

Nowadays, the African American female is finding there is more advantage in returning to her roots, “The Natural”, which I too gladly sport. With natural hair comes a certain feeling of affirmation and preservation. When I decided to go natural, it was liberating times three but do not be fooled, it doesn’t mean less care as natural hair usually equals additional attention. Natural hair has a tendency to break easier becoming dry if not carefully treated but when it’s healthy it is most gratifying.

 

Hairstyles most favored in the natural look are:

The afro – short are long it is very attractive and a sign of great confidence

Short & Long Au’ Naturale’

Source: afrohair

Source: africanamericanshort

Source: mediaonsugar

Get It Twisted

Braids – which are very expressive, worn in endless styles.

Braid Mine

Source: 0.tqn.com

Source: stockexpert

The Undreadful Dreads

Dreads – seemingly producing an unmistakable edginess or rawness with rare sex appeal

 

The Erykah Ba Do

Source: fashiontribenet

Hello Flow

Another reason to kick the straight hair habit and love natural hair is because of the resurgence of it among women and the degenerative effects of permanent-relaxer on African American hair. Over time, it has become increasingly harsh for the hair and scalp. In addition, it becomes a literal epidermis landfill when permanent color is added, meaning intense conditioning and moisturizing at least weekly or bi-weekly. This ritual can get old. Even with the most extreme care, the disappointing results can turn out the same… weakened, less manageable hair. Therefore, it’s hello to the fro, we’re gonna give it a go and goodbye perm…Ah, baby, we knew ye well.”

 

 

why don’t we sky

yea…
why not lift off
chasing amber highways, yellow spheres
wispy chasms among hot air moons
purple birds coasting
getting pictures of flighty urgency
mid morning aftermath
don’t you want to investigate
be albatross companions moving clouds along heaven’s post
unaware of destinations but going somewhere
present climate excluded
haven’t eyes had fill of complacent arrows
monotonous pinch, same, identical
baritone ebb
look, only to bluish pale over snow caps
refreshing isles of pristine opulence… pinnacle ride

yea…why don’t we sky

in those eyes i’m tryin to die

by the way arms are
contorted like
fleece and rubber band
but not human
if there’s movement
it’s cause my limbs
aren’t naturally landing
it’s called grasping to remain live
your body wrapped
around my neck
while we might twitch to breathe
their script is that I am resisting
but I am inhaling my spirit
doesn’t leave

 

while some who’s eye’s
are willing to lie
tell them what they see
isn’t reeling

while some are trying
to tell a black life how to be
when no honest danger
invisible hint, threatening feeling

If I’m 18 alone and afraid
twisted, wrestled
it’s wrong to run for my life

(unarmed, ain’t got no piece)

wasn’t trying to die

guess I deserve the beatin’
thrown like we back
in “59”

(young girl, home life is fried)

cause in your unyielding eyes

I’m surely mean to die

She Gone Be Speaking Soon

Words seemed to escape her or maybe came out the wrong way. At nineteen, there is no clue she is not ready. Things are fine until Mark says, “Trenda, I really want this to be something.

 

You know?” Trenda didn’t know. Trenda is scared but he did everything. Mark sees her with another guy; he holds on. He brings a girl to her home. ‘Come driving up the parking lot, introducing her;

 

Acting like he thinks that girl is going to be Trenda’s best friend but that girl sees the sparkle in his eyes is her. She hears the familiar tones in their voices when two people bond. Mark never retreats and how come it doesn’t register with Trenda? How come she doesn’t perceive the tender words they keep; preserved in a flawless gold box just for them?

 

On a cool summer night the front door is open. Trenda and Mark linger on his mother’s old century couch. The lights are low. The light of the moon is coming through the screen. They kiss. She takes his kiss and molds his lips with hers.

 

Marks lips are full, firm and blousy, three times bigger than hers. She loves them big and waiting. He said afterwards, “The next time we kiss I want have much lip left” and he smiles at her. Trenda doesn’t think anyone ever kisses him like that. She smiles slowly too at Mark saying that to her. The kiss tells her who Mark belongs to.

 

He doesn’t depart but she never realizes that fact until the last hour. She hears he is moving to his mother’s home state. Desperation began. Every day in her heart and mind, she scrambles for a plan. It needs to be her doing the chasing. There is a group outing. Trenda and Mark will pair up for the last time. Like old times.

 

She began thinking, “This is the perfect night. Maybe, this is my chance.” The night ages and they find themselves on the front steps. He leans in telling her good bye…for the last time.

 

Mark is so sweet and promising but it isn’t enough. Is it possible to get past the last year? When she ignores his advances after telling him, “We can still be friends?” She knows he is crushed. So is it she, not recognizing the haunting of her fears?

 

Frantically, she races to the phone the next day to call Ms. Anne, rehearsing apologies. Begging doesn’t hurt right now. Mark will forgive her for not knowing the child she is but the young lady she should be.

 

When Miss Anne answers the phone, she says, “Mark isn’t here.” She sounds a bit too delighted. Trenda knows she won’t tell him she called. Mark is letting go. These are Trenda’s tears from being released by him. She is going to beg Mark not to go but he won’t hear her. He did… everything.

smoothie

creamy… shaved by the ice

tea green tea and banana

refresh blending with freeze turbinado pleasantries

light and no one chokes upon mention

cool… I breezes chilled to sweet factors

while at the sight of cold breath the heart drizzles

easy cool like tropical mangos and mamas

indulge long enough I am more mellow

yellow tulips with honeyed ears of corn for vapors

added for sleek happiness

emancipated

elevated

conscious

consumption

Nod

face, the body migrating to voluptuous

he doesn’t understand

that at twenty three you will always be the man

I am woman and child and woman

has set up shop in the smiles of days gone by

developing rings around her trunk

and you aren’t the wiser

I hope to see you growing reaching no longer a seedling

I will always be me with adages appendages amendments

girly 2.0 hoping for continued tallness

stimulating conversation that you will seek as you go

cognizant of turning pages

we are still beautiful only more sage and aromatic

It could be romantic if continued watering planting

I will take on anything, sing anything by you

gotsta be nothing but us with some twisting and winding

some trying and some changing

making some adjustments

viewing thangs in the positive

cause if I haven’t killed nobody yet

remain contained with everyone around me

without setting lyrics to substitute Lucille in the atmosphere behind me

then It’s gosta be I ain’t dark and evil

you and rearranged sweetness

no longer twenty three

still plenty