31 July 2010
New Poem (July 26th, 2010)
Enemy
I must look like an enemy to you.
Audacious.
A casual smile hiding insecurities
And a heart that no longer beats to your breath.
I am no longer your lover.
Or the person with whom you once experienced freedom.
We were once a sigh of relief.
A reason to dance.
Sweaty palms.
A snorting laugh.
And love.
We were love.
Now you look at me as if you don't remember these moments.
These times where you showed me who I could be if I was brave enough.
And I was...
Brave enough.
But I was also sacrifice.
And longing.
And sleepless nights.
And anger.
And resentment.
And you were missing.
After relationships are over,
I always struggle with what to remember and what to forget.
Because I tried to forget.
And forgive.
But I am lost somewhere.
I've reached enemy territory.
When really,
I am just an ex-girlfriend.
Someone who you cherished once.
Who is struggling to find an indentity without your smile.
And busying myself with me.
Forgive me (my) Queen.
I did a mediocre job of breaking your heart.
And I'm clumsy with super glue.
We are both undone.
I guess I am able to camouflage myself more,
While you are careless words and second thoughts,
Regretting our exchanges more and more each moment you don't hear my voice.
I can't be this for you.
These self-hatred moments where I am your lapse in judgement.
I only love you.
I only wanted to love you.
But my love is not enough,
To fix these cracks.
What happened to our foundation?
To the moments where I wanted you for the rest of my life.
Just as you were.
And I was never more sure.
Now I am an idea to be quietly done away with.
A distant memory
To be placed neatly on a shelf to collect dust.
Something easily gotten over,
That you refuse to miss.
The enemy.
I must look like an enemy to you.
Audacious.
A casual smile hiding insecurities
And a heart that no longer beats to your breath.
I am no longer your lover.
Or the person with whom you once experienced freedom.
We were once a sigh of relief.
A reason to dance.
Sweaty palms.
A snorting laugh.
And love.
We were love.
Now you look at me as if you don't remember these moments.
These times where you showed me who I could be if I was brave enough.
And I was...
Brave enough.
But I was also sacrifice.
And longing.
And sleepless nights.
And anger.
And resentment.
And you were missing.
After relationships are over,
I always struggle with what to remember and what to forget.
Because I tried to forget.
And forgive.
But I am lost somewhere.
I've reached enemy territory.
When really,
I am just an ex-girlfriend.
Someone who you cherished once.
Who is struggling to find an indentity without your smile.
And busying myself with me.
Forgive me (my) Queen.
I did a mediocre job of breaking your heart.
And I'm clumsy with super glue.
We are both undone.
I guess I am able to camouflage myself more,
While you are careless words and second thoughts,
Regretting our exchanges more and more each moment you don't hear my voice.
I can't be this for you.
These self-hatred moments where I am your lapse in judgement.
I only love you.
I only wanted to love you.
But my love is not enough,
To fix these cracks.
What happened to our foundation?
To the moments where I wanted you for the rest of my life.
Just as you were.
And I was never more sure.
Now I am an idea to be quietly done away with.
A distant memory
To be placed neatly on a shelf to collect dust.
Something easily gotten over,
That you refuse to miss.
The enemy.
21 July 2010
" I love the way you kiss me bye..."
If there was ever a song that described how I feel right now...
Judge me if you must.
What can I say? Her stylist gave me everything. <3
(Thanks Ash for putting me on, via tumblr.)
16 July 2010
Who tryna ride out??
The DuSable Museum of African American History will present a new traveling exhibition, “The Black Panthers: Making Sense of History,” which will open on Friday, April 23, 2010 and continue through Sunday, August 8, 2010, at the Museum which is located at 740 East 56th Place (57th Street and South Cottage Grove Avenue) in Chicago.
In celebration of the 40th anniversary of the founding of the Party, The Black Panthers: Making Sense of History offers more than 50 historic photographic images that illustrate the history of the Black Panther Party. At the core of the exhibition are forty-eight (48) original photographs taken by Black Panther photographer Stephen Shames. Stephen Shames is one of my favorite photographers. Not only for his Black Panther Party work, but just the way he captures life. Incredibly honest and vulnerable. (All Photography credit: Stephen Shames).
The exhibition will also feature numerous historic Black Panther artifacts from private collections in addition to the DuSable Museum archives, including works of art, posters and other unique items that help illustrate the history of one of the most controversial groups of the Modern Civil Rights Movement. The exhibition explores one of the 20th century’s most controversial and inspirational organizations. The exhibition pairs rare Black Panther Party artifacts from the collection of the DuSable Museum of African American History, with signature pieces from the personal collections of Chicagoans.
Organized by Aperture Foundation
15 July 2010
A finished piece?
A poem I posted last blog. (That I'm finished now... I think?)
I am laid open,
Like mahi- mahi found in a dark cantina neighborhood bar.
A new taste
Nestled on intruiging lips.
I may be the essence you've been missing.
The craving you could never grasp.
Meals become an excuse to satisfy wants.
To touch knees and exchange long glances.
I am hungry
For more conversation.
For more stolen moments.
Where bug bites are reminders of exposed thighs
And the path of your fingers.
Your skin,
Bronze and soft
Tangled with my limbs
And emotions.
Anticipation has left me wanting
More of you:
A magic woman,
Who harnesses me with a condemned smile
And kisses as if the world is melting to ashes.
I am merely ashes.
Delicate and grey from my past,
Easily moved by a strong breeze.
You remind me of a gust of wind sometimes,
How you sway and pulsate with a purpose unknown.
Sometimes I just want to float in you.
More times then that,
I'm happy to hold memories of you,
On the walls of my room.
I can remember each place where we danced in the dark
And found ourselves stumbling into each other.
Luckily my bed has always managed to be there if we fall.
But it will not always be so simple.
I was once a twister
That kissed the nape of a Queen's neck
And we are still waiting for the goosebumps to dissapear.
She still craves the chaos of me disheveling her space
And I,
Wish I didn't always make such a mess of things so beautiful.
But you are not this.
You are tough and free,
Stormy waves warning of a strong current.
A force of nature,
That I have managed to become tangled in.
Wading in currents perhaps too strong.
Swept up.
I am laid open,
Like mahi- mahi found in a dark cantina neighborhood bar.
A new taste
Nestled on intruiging lips.
I may be the essence you've been missing.
The craving you could never grasp.
Meals become an excuse to satisfy wants.
To touch knees and exchange long glances.
I am hungry
For more conversation.
For more stolen moments.
Where bug bites are reminders of exposed thighs
And the path of your fingers.
Your skin,
Bronze and soft
Tangled with my limbs
And emotions.
Anticipation has left me wanting
More of you:
A magic woman,
Who harnesses me with a condemned smile
And kisses as if the world is melting to ashes.
I am merely ashes.
Delicate and grey from my past,
Easily moved by a strong breeze.
You remind me of a gust of wind sometimes,
How you sway and pulsate with a purpose unknown.
Sometimes I just want to float in you.
More times then that,
I'm happy to hold memories of you,
On the walls of my room.
I can remember each place where we danced in the dark
And found ourselves stumbling into each other.
Luckily my bed has always managed to be there if we fall.
But it will not always be so simple.
I was once a twister
That kissed the nape of a Queen's neck
And we are still waiting for the goosebumps to dissapear.
She still craves the chaos of me disheveling her space
And I,
Wish I didn't always make such a mess of things so beautiful.
But you are not this.
You are tough and free,
Stormy waves warning of a strong current.
A force of nature,
That I have managed to become tangled in.
Wading in currents perhaps too strong.
Swept up.
11 July 2010
Something New, Something Old
A new poem I'm in the middle of...
I am laid open,
Like ma hi-ma hi
Found in a dark cantina neighborhood bar.
A new taste,
Nestled on intriguing lips.
I may be the essence you've been missing.
The craving you could never grasp.
Meals become an excuse to touch knees and exchange long glances.
I am hungry
For more conversation,
More time.
Anticipation is a frequent dessert
That has left me wanting
More of you.
(An older poem never unveiled until NOW!! Duh dahn nah nah!)
NYC (May 25th 2010)
Riding in a sunshine colored cab
I was a cup brimming to the top with anticipation
Filling the car with eagerness.
It spilled easily on the inside of thighs
And under bras.
I held a new future in between my two fingers.
Grazed slowly and rolled thumbnails across it.
Held on firmly using my teeth and bottom lip
Silently pondering how long this spark can stay quietly burning
In the cave of my stomach
Before it explodes.
Hesitation is a broken fire hydrant
With an appetite for our fire.
I am laid open,
Like ma hi-ma hi
Found in a dark cantina neighborhood bar.
A new taste,
Nestled on intriguing lips.
I may be the essence you've been missing.
The craving you could never grasp.
Meals become an excuse to touch knees and exchange long glances.
I am hungry
For more conversation,
More time.
Anticipation is a frequent dessert
That has left me wanting
More of you.
(An older poem never unveiled until NOW!! Duh dahn nah nah!)
NYC (May 25th 2010)
Riding in a sunshine colored cab
I was a cup brimming to the top with anticipation
Filling the car with eagerness.
It spilled easily on the inside of thighs
And under bras.
I held a new future in between my two fingers.
Grazed slowly and rolled thumbnails across it.
Held on firmly using my teeth and bottom lip
Silently pondering how long this spark can stay quietly burning
In the cave of my stomach
Before it explodes.
Hesitation is a broken fire hydrant
With an appetite for our fire.
It's Been a Long Time Coming...
Pretty terrible at this blog thing, I've realized. BUT I can only go up from here. So I have some recent poems... and Dior.
Time (June 19th 2010)
A ticking clock
On the wall in a strange bathroom
Reminds me my time here is limited.
A goodbye meal
Given away easily and ingested quickly.
There is a tug at my heart
Pulls me in all directions.
This is not my home.
Not my city.
The hips held
Evaporate into the sand
Of an hour glass.
Time is running...Out.
I lack patience.
These goodbyes
Cling to unmade sheets in a shared space
For just a moment.
Stolen moments.
But when the weight of your body kept me still and grounded,
I could've sworn
The walls caved in to hear our whispers.
The ceiling moving
Like uprooted clouds on a windy day.
For a moment I was uncomplicated.
I could breathe.
Now my scent will be the only thing that remains.
Milk and honey.
My tendencies draw me to fleeting feelings.
Unattainable and complex.
I've learned that leaving can feel like fleeing.
(Or quitting.)
A rising sun teasing heavy eyes.
This dance, recognizable.
Feathers in familiar ear lobes has become my legacy.
I just hope that you miss me a little when I'm gone.
This ticking
Abrasive and unrelenting
Warns me.
That time will not sit idol
For long goodbyes.
Full Moon (June 26th 2010
I warned my lover,
That my smile often makes promises I can't keep.
Said this without uttering a word,
Just hoped she could see my eyes
Burning with regret.
But she didn't catch it.
No one can say I didn't try.
Could've made more attempts
But it was the stench of my breath
That finally gave me away.
How it reeked of an ex's heart I had performed mouth to mouth on.
It was this scent,
Trapped in my throat,
That I choked on today,
Uttering words of a missed past.
"I am sorry."
I held your hand tightly so I could hide my racing heart's tendencies.
And I warned you I was weary.
You still insisted on staying put.
You,
A new experience that felt so much like history.
De ja vu.
2:30am and my body will not tire without your voice to hum me to sleep.
I am tossing and turning.
A mess of blankets and pillows that feel too hard to dream on.
Wondering if you will remember that I was your Queen
Come morning.
Or if you will be too busy mourning to text me
Come morning.
Will you wish it was the morning before,
When emotions were not in such grave danger.
I never want to be your demise.
The reason you learned your lesson.
I just want to hold you.
Your womanhood in my mouth.
It was our secret.
Now I'm wondering if our potential will remain undiscovered.
Old poems and clean sheets.
I lack the right to request anything of you.
Never felt like enough of a woman to ask someone to stay.
After all,
How can I have that much audacity when all I manage to do is stray?
I guess I'm just looking for someone with enough heart to leave a piece for me.
For a moment.
All I am,
Are these moments.
When the full moon is done glaring at me through my window,
I wonder
What will morning (mourning) bring?
Time (June 19th 2010)
A ticking clock
On the wall in a strange bathroom
Reminds me my time here is limited.
A goodbye meal
Given away easily and ingested quickly.
There is a tug at my heart
Pulls me in all directions.
This is not my home.
Not my city.
The hips held
Evaporate into the sand
Of an hour glass.
Time is running...Out.
I lack patience.
These goodbyes
Cling to unmade sheets in a shared space
For just a moment.
Stolen moments.
But when the weight of your body kept me still and grounded,
I could've sworn
The walls caved in to hear our whispers.
The ceiling moving
Like uprooted clouds on a windy day.
For a moment I was uncomplicated.
I could breathe.
Now my scent will be the only thing that remains.
Milk and honey.
My tendencies draw me to fleeting feelings.
Unattainable and complex.
I've learned that leaving can feel like fleeing.
(Or quitting.)
A rising sun teasing heavy eyes.
This dance, recognizable.
Feathers in familiar ear lobes has become my legacy.
I just hope that you miss me a little when I'm gone.
This ticking
Abrasive and unrelenting
Warns me.
That time will not sit idol
For long goodbyes.
Full Moon (June 26th 2010
I warned my lover,
That my smile often makes promises I can't keep.
Said this without uttering a word,
Just hoped she could see my eyes
Burning with regret.
But she didn't catch it.
No one can say I didn't try.
Could've made more attempts
But it was the stench of my breath
That finally gave me away.
How it reeked of an ex's heart I had performed mouth to mouth on.
It was this scent,
Trapped in my throat,
That I choked on today,
Uttering words of a missed past.
"I am sorry."
I held your hand tightly so I could hide my racing heart's tendencies.
And I warned you I was weary.
You still insisted on staying put.
You,
A new experience that felt so much like history.
De ja vu.
2:30am and my body will not tire without your voice to hum me to sleep.
I am tossing and turning.
A mess of blankets and pillows that feel too hard to dream on.
Wondering if you will remember that I was your Queen
Come morning.
Or if you will be too busy mourning to text me
Come morning.
Will you wish it was the morning before,
When emotions were not in such grave danger.
I never want to be your demise.
The reason you learned your lesson.
I just want to hold you.
Your womanhood in my mouth.
It was our secret.
Now I'm wondering if our potential will remain undiscovered.
Old poems and clean sheets.
I lack the right to request anything of you.
Never felt like enough of a woman to ask someone to stay.
After all,
How can I have that much audacity when all I manage to do is stray?
I guess I'm just looking for someone with enough heart to leave a piece for me.
For a moment.
All I am,
Are these moments.
When the full moon is done glaring at me through my window,
I wonder
What will morning (mourning) bring?
Christian Dior Fall 2011 Couture Show... Ridiculous. Models transformed into flowers: a garden on the runway. Incredible. Moving.
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