I hope the squirrels kick their ass!!

All the people at my job want to do is pick fcking pecans.... I came in this morning with the goal to complete the shell of a data report in which to review program services blah blah blah blah.. the project involves working with the data analysis division blah blah blah.. surely you are not interested in my job. anywho..
I have been teamed up with HESSMALLERANDFCKINGLOUDER. Now I can be the queen of procrastination or so it may appear. I work like I write most of my open mic/slam pieces. I walk around with it in my head for a few days, sit down and complete it. Generally in a few days. I am, for the most part, a typical aquarian, however, unlike most, I have the ability, no willingness, to follow thru with projects. Despite the boredom... It's only exciting in the developing phase, I am a control freak so it's hard to allow someone else to do the foot work. I digress....
I requested the report on the 14th of November. I needed minor changes that required, from an IT/Data professional's stand point, a swift key stroke. In addition to that, as Project Manager, I allowed issues and changes to collect, as opposed to going to him each and everytime there was a need for change. I would have believed he would have been happy, especially since He-Bitch was on him like a lubricant in a late night ill planned screw with some last call for alcohol, were-wolf ugly mofo...
NEW CHARACTER INTRODUCTION
Silent Ghost-Light: This guy is white like elmer's glue, you know how you squirt it from the top and it sits on that orange cap? Well, that kind of white. Almost ghost like, plus he's sooooooo fcking eerily quiet you'd swear he was mute, deaf, and dumb. Every fcking time he speaks I am surprised.
Barefoot Contessa: A manager (w.w. all I have to say) who walks around the building barefoot all damn day long.
Nearly two weeks later, yes there was a holiday in between, what I asked wasn't much, and I still did not have a report. I was cool though. Since the 19th after I realized I still hadn't gotten the report I have watched HESSMALLERANDFCKINGLOUDER and Silent Ghost-Light walk around the grounds picking fcking pecans. I mean these mofos pick damn pecans so much the squirrels are hanging out on the limbs doing pull ups and shyt. Strengthening themselves and waiting to kick their asses. I mean almost everyone here is hanging out there picking fcking pecans, but let them even think I'm on my cell phone and all hell would break loose. I have never seen so many unattractive asses. Literally asses, cracks, cheeks and all. It can be pretty disgusting, especially around lunch time.
So this morning, I approach my man HESSMALLERANDFCKINGLOUDER to have a conversation, it went something like this.
Me: Good morning. My thinking may be incorrect, however, I have not received the final report we discussed a few weeks back.
Him: What do you mean? I sent it in an e-mail.
Me: I went thru my e-mails. The last report I received you was on the 14th.
Him: You sure?
Me: Positive.
Him: Oh. What were the changes, 'cuz I know I sent it to you.
Me: Why don't you resend the e-mail you sent containing the report? I need it to track changes, and since I erred (Which I know damn well I didn't.) I will make note of it, as we are working on a time line.
Him: Well, no, what were the changes. (Now we get to the truth pecan picker!) No, why don't you get them and bring them over her so we can review it.
Me: I know what changes need to be made. Let's just pull up the report and we can make the changes here, now, together. (Yea, pecan picker... since you want to be funny.)
Him: Naw. I'll just come over to your pod and we can review the changes.
Me: Okay. See you in five minutes?
Him: Ok.
Now one he didn't make it in five minutes and as a result when he arrived I was on the phone. I acknowledged him, and attempted to wrap up my conversation quickly. I have a tendency to use my work phone like a mob boss under FBI surveillances. Some call it my 900 voice, and I also hold the receiver in a way that covers my mouth. So even if you are a lip reader, you don't know if it's business or personal. But like any good employee, I use my cell for most personal calls. Any way when I complete the call and begin talking to him he's louder than his normal self, has an attitude. I click into my inbox and see that he's e-mailed the WRONG report to me. Had not made any of the changes. You can see it in the first glance. I'm fighting the urge to become curt as I am operating on 3.45 hours of sleep, an attitude, a CRAVING FOR PANCAKES AND BACON, and no fcking Starbucks. He gets louder and louder and a bit more aggressive with each suggestion I make. And I am becoming incensed. Finally the straw that broke the camel's back.
Him: Is it too hard for you to walk over and get the formula yourself?
Me: Excuse me?
Him: Is it too hard for you to walk over and get the formula yourself?
Me: No. I can do that. I believe your task in this project is to ensure that I have the report I need, and since formulas and data systems are not my area of expertise, the process would be a lot more efficient and effective if you would keep your end of the deal. But, I can do it.
Long short it gets worse, 'cuz I have to go over to I SAID A BOOM CHICK A BOOM and obtain, not the formula, but the process of how she obatins, not runs similar data reports. In other words the run around, but I'm a team player (at times). Now I SAID A BOOM CHICK A BOOM I've noticed from previous conversations wants to jump forward to the implementation of the report and analyze the data OUT LOUD LIKE A FUCKING CHEER and we were the winning team, all the while speaking to me as if 1) I am incapable of seeing the obvious and 2) On some militant shyt where I too, am willing to speak loudly about the administration and systems shortcomings. The sister is sharp as hell, smart and knows her job, but sometimes I believe she reeks of the scent Welfare and wears designer wardrobe labeled Unemployment all the while wanting to escourted by my man Termination to some door. I'm not criticizing, just sometimes her timing is all wrong. And the Barefoot Contessa had begun to peek her head around an office door collecting her own form of data. Thank goodness she is not my boss, and even better, my boss dogs her every opportunity she gets.
Between their loudness and the frustration that was beginning to rise in my voice, I thought I would claw my ears from the side of my face so that I just could not hear, but not have anything resembling a listening device on or near my body..... Eventually I walked away. Just couldn't take another minute. Requesting that I have a finished report by lunch.
Needless to say, HESSMALLERANDFCKINGLOUDER wears passive agressiveness like deoderant, "never let 'em see you sweat". He made his point. He knew I wouldn't go to neither of our bosses and discuss the issue. He knew I wanted to get by just like he wanted to get by. I didn't get my report by the close of business day. And from time to time as I walked from building to building, went to lunch, and chatted on my cell phone I would catch HESSMALLERANDFCKINGLOUDER and Silent Ghost-Light walking around with their little white shopping bags picking fcking pecans. What he didn't know was I'm not vindictive, but I do have vindictive thoughts and I secretly hoped the squirrels would kick his fcking ass...

Place in Too Much Information File

Yes, we know it's old news, but.......
Kirk Franklin, reputable Gospel Artist, will be on the Oprah Winfrey Show tomorrow discussing his porn addiction. Now just who, this young man was looking at butt ass naked has not been revealed.... butt being operative word.....
Now that Terri McMillan has (un)revealed her desires for homosexual men or let's say her habit of taking baths with them, we wonder if Star Jones, Terri and Oprah will be the inaugural participants in Legends of Harpo FagHag Brunch....

Epiphany

One of the handicapped ladies does not wash her hands after she uses the restDOOM. It was an accident that I found out.. I went in to rinse my coffee cup, and she came out of the stall and walked immediately to the door. She did not pass a sink or let water touch the silhouette of her hand... She had no shame, despite the look of HORROR disguised as DISGUST....I began to think of all the times she has touched me, my clothes, and once asked to touch my hair. I want to take a scalding hot bath then shower to wash the thoughts off me.....

footsteps...

I see shadows of footsteps in darkness, and I want to be filled... filled by vibrancy of colors shading the obscurity of clarity.. of jaded lucidity... aloofness, constant companion, second skin, veiled in abrasive loneness.. longing... waning... allow steps to fill me in... shade me... harden me... protect me... against meager sacrificial self... willing to perish under emotion less weight... motionless are smiles and stilled salted beauty streaming on tip of cheek that steal from fixed pout of lip.. saturating dreams... silently hearing now in yesterdays past morning moon... before nighttime sun.... we sit in grey of twi.. seeing double in singular moment at high noon.. soon... footsteps beat echoing heart... sinks... double time... in step with mine.. longing, loneliness, lonely are footsteps in darkness...and I want to be filled... filled by illumination of shadows lurking in your darkness... fill my soles with your soul... so that I may become... whole....

Giving Thanks to Turkey, Pork and Trees....

I am the most carnivorous vegetarian I know. Did I mention I was suppose to be working on becoming a vegetarian? Yup, for the last three months. Most days I'm damn good at eating vegetarian. I bought all the Boca and Morningstar products. Freezer packed with tilapia, shrimp, and various cheese/portobello mushroom filled pastas. Now, I don't want to be confused with the girl who eats meat when someone else is picking up the tab.... I will gladly purchase it myself. So I'm not wanting to be vegetarian because I can't afford meat. Nor do I want to be that cute bohemian sista who, you know, doesn't eat meat... I made the choice for discipline and focus. Kind of like when I stopped smoking. I quit cold turkey... Don't get me wrong, I planned to eat meat during the holidays, two scheduled relapses, Thanksgiving and Christmas.. but damn, I over did it so much that I am afraid.... I liken this experience to the amaretto/tequila Monterey trip my freshman year in Undergrad. By the time we got to the International Bridge in Laredo, I was sick as a dog, and was throwing up literally in Mexico and the United States. See, I woke up with a meat hangover, breath reeking of fried turkey and (OH THE HORROR) smoked pork loin. (These people, the pecans and the elm can cook!!! So I practiced a deadly sin: gluttoney. 'Chelle, grazing is for PUNKS!!!) And I ate so much I wanted to be sick. Again the pecans and the elm can cook, I am so ashamed, I prostituted myself so well for the meat. And ohh to be a five dollar whore on pay day... well, actually, I was.. I am slightly embarrassed, but as they say in any 12 step program admitting is the first step.
Aside from that, Thanksgiving was absolutely perfect. I could not have asked for better company. I was, as always where I wanted to be. Thank you. (Anything more will get me into trouble....)
To my peeps I didn't get to call to wish you a good day, I'm offer a sincere apology and pray that you all went happily and returned better than you were before. What I wanted to say, to my regulars... I love ya... I missed you... And thanks for being a gift I can open daily. On good days, I am eternally grateful, and on bad days, I am truly blessed... To my trees, ELM, OAK, MELIACEAE, and those darn PECANS... Thanks for allowing me to be a small part of your life.... Meliaceae, I'm still a pebble, trying to be a rock.... I miss you... and no I cannot get instant messaging....

Thanks for the Lighted Wisdom: Thanksgiving 2006

"Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being. Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light."
Albert Schweitzer quotes (German medical Missionary, Theologian, Musician and Philosopher. 1952 Nobel Peace Prize, 1875-1965)

untitled

curse laced kisses, profanely flit 'round heavens, questioning eternal graces without remorse... list she listlessly removes from mind and thoughts once gathered at knees and feet.... praying... for forgiveness... for time... for consideration.... for favor... allow sun's beams to shower, flood, bless me... with love..

lasts.......

i can make it feel as if life started the moment you last blinked. that pause between your last heart beats. gray before the climax of dawn. last looked at me. really looked at me. without the lies you've told your soul. things you've accepted as real, without really accepting me..
i can make it feel brand new. like whispers of heaven from god's lips to angel's ears; in happiness their wings flutter, creating a light brisk feigning an autumn breeze. like morning dew you kiss from mole of neck and small of back... desirous perspiration that does me justice each morning when it's just us.. the love that weighs so heavily upon air, yet effortlessly inhaled.... a fragrant aroma in our midst. misty as the eyes that look toward you for love, love.. i can make it feel as if life started the moment the very last of your pain slipped down your cheeks, before the last breath you took when you thought you could never go on... i, the hand, that comforted and wiped away those tear. i, that next, life sustaining breath. i need you like you need me. i find the very strength in you that eludes and escapes me. i be your fire in darkness and you my cloak in the bitter cold... i am your warmth... you are my cool... your shadow. your shade, filling you in....i can make it feel as life started the moment you last blinked. that pause between your last heart beats. gray before the climax of dawn. last looked at me... and right now, in this moment, i need for you to really look at me and see me, as i see you. everlasting...."

hip hop, RestDOOm and other Tales of WOE...

my feet and right thump are hurting. it has been three weeks since i have really driven a car. i am a testament and witness to the biblical adage that GOD takes care of babies and fools. a bit old to be a baby, and much to bright to be a fool, or so i would like to believe.... but thru friends, family and public transportation, i have been able to get almost everywhere i would have liked. even been able to get a few places in a crunch.
problem is i got to make a decision. i love HIP HOP.... i have wanted her since the day i purchased her, she is some timey, takes all my money, high maintenance, somethings always wrong, and she's always complaining..... but i love her. and i can't stand to part from her. but she has me walking, catching rides, riding buses... yet, i am still trying to figure out how i can keep her... i picked her up today. spent another 200.00. yea, she's doing what she does best, manipulating me into believing that she can be reliable, but i can't get her to back dat ass up... in other words she has no reverse... SO I STILL HAVE TO PARK HER..... what da fck?
thank heavens for stuffy noses..... i went to the clean rest room today in building five. i was on my way out to, bum a ride, with a co-worker, to pick up HIP HOP. immediately after i walked into the restroom, another lady entered behind me, said out loud, "oh GOD!" and walked back out. two things happened in that moment. one i was extremely pleased that she was aware that i entered the same time she entered. i was also happy that i couldn't smell whatever it was that drove her out the door. all of which became immediate fear, because after i closed the stall door another woman walked in and said, "huh." then coughed as if she had been choked. in that moment, me in TOO MUCH INFORMATION TO GIVE YOU. not sitting on the seat though.... crunched over, trying to conceal my shoes, leaning over, trying to maneuver and balance in an effort not to pee on my leg nor be seen, as i did not want to be accused of the ODOR... so now, my co-workers waiting on me, knowing i went to the restroom, the place is foul as hell (i know this based on the women's responses as they come in) and I'm afraid to leave because i don't want to be penned the mystery shyter. i know it's childish, but hell, and to make matters worse the spray is in my stall, but i'm afraid to spray because 1) they may believe the stench is coming from my stall and 2) that industrial spray is like cheap perfume, it stays in your clothes, hands, hair, hell it follows you for at least an hour so anyone who stands close to you knows, "ohh, she's the one." i know it's childish, and guess what, in this instance, i am childish. so i wait on the brown mile.... praying that the traffic becomes light enough for me to slip out, unnoticed... it does.... but not without my co-worker asking me if i fell in. i explain what happened and we laugh, only after she says she could have told me that wasn't the best time to go to that restDOOM...
lastly, my nose is burning... on fire. it's also stopped up. i can barely breathe. i ahve been laid up all weekend.. i did have a good nurse.. sick nonetheless. i'm trying to finish a poem that i can't get out of my head. to no avail. i can't work out this week.. another story.. and i am as close to poor as anyone could get before a holiday and payday... and i so wanted to buy all that unnecessary shyt the day after thanksgiving.... GOOD THING: TWO DAYS UNTIL RENT, and i took off on wednesday to go see it! i can hardly wait. five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure, measure a year..... i remember seeing it four times in dallas, three of which i sat in the orchestra seats alone and had the time of my life..... something to look forward to, aside from the holidays.... and this will be the first time i have looked forward to them since my grandmother.... well you know.... i have something to look forward to. despite the car. despite the funds. despite the difficulties. despite myself.... thanks...

just thoughts...

between sneezing, watering eyes, scratchy throat, and an occasional need to take a nap... i won't complain.. am coming down with allergies which by saturday will become bronchitis. an annual occurrence. welcome to winter in austin, texas. the allergenic capitol of the world. if there is such.....
today was the thanksgiving luncheon. they requested that i perform... well, actually, the conversation went something like this:
her:" ______________. we are having our thanksgiving luncheon friday. we would really like for you to come over and do something. that is, if you aren't charging. you still do some performances for charity. for free? huh?"
me: "i didn't think i could charge. yea, i'll do it. what time? how many pieces?"
her: "well you could, but since you work here, we couldn't pay you. we are providing you with a meal. it starts at 11:30. as many as you want."
me: "since it's for free, i'll do one. naw, i wouldn't charge you, but i will only do one." secretly i'm thinking 1) i've seen these people and their bathroom manners are atrocious so i can only inmagine, nightmarishly, of course, what they do when they cook. a person that won't clean their hands after they wipe their ass could never provide me with a meal.... 2) can get lay's and a few others off my ass, since they run around here saying i'm on the phone when i'm practicing for a show....
i did the piece flawlessly and effortlessly...
then...i hate it when they... now, i'm not grouping all people who do not share my pigmentation in the same category, but since when does "you are so articulate, you speak so well, so eloquently" serve as a compliment? somehow, the comment comes across as if they are surprised that i could do anything aside from walk.. especially since i've been accused of being on the phone so frequently, you would think anyone that talked as much as they say i talk would speak well, hell look at all the practice i get....
anyway, it went well, got compliments, awes, stares, especially from those who remember me when i first started and have been supportive since the old building and agency. that's why i did it.. for the ones who supported me and encouraged me from the beginning, who ask frequently about performance and how i'm doing. i wanted to give something to them and that felt good.
speaking of giving back.. i had the opportunity to perform in san marcos last night. it was great. i sat back and listened to the students, the new voices, it was magnificent. truly inspired by their thoughts and creativity. took me back to when i first started. i recognized in that moment how important it is to give your attention to those young people. how just a few minutes listening from your heart and commenting did so much... for all of us.... so i must say to the poets who go places to spit and leave without listening to others, you do yourself and the people around you an injustice........

so fly?

last night they found him.... dead... on the windowsill. still. lifeless. no one made a sound. how could they? why would they? they had seen it coming... numb to the annoyance of his buzzing in their ears, they had simply forgotten his existence, his insistence ... no matter how many times some one opened a window or a door to aid him in possible escape, he turned, knowing that he, only he knew what was best. despite the wind that blowed ever so softly, flirting with his wings, he in fear, or insolence, ignored the possibility of unbridled freedom... instead, steadfast, he hung around light bulbs and in closets with moths... only to find he didn't fit in. not aware that those of air have vastly different purposes.... yet he remained, despite warning and insistence... in spite of the internal messages ever resounding, as familiar as his voice, his need to fly, his need to die... the lure of the window, a complex illusion; his arrogance manipulated his weakness, suicidal to the casual observer, his destiny nonetheless... to torture himself, to see what was on the other side, yet afraid to live in the unfamiliar familiarity of his nature.. last night they found him.... wings stiff, eyes dead, cold, glazed, fixated on what lies just past the glass of that window......
FREE YOURSELF FROM DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR
last night the gods smiled upon me.... i had an opportunity to close out a show. something i'd never really done or saw the honor in doing... and believe me it was an honor. like some, perhaps most, based on conversations i was extremely disappointed in egotistical behaviors, but a casual observer knows... and i knew what i've always known.... few love it because they love it....and i just love it.... it is a drug, a time to shine, a time to get what they so desperately lack in their everyday lives, attention, adoration, love, _______________. missing the point of the gathering. leaving behind those, whom you believed in contradiction and selfish sense of entitlement, were less than, need not be afforded the opportunity to shine... in your arrogance you missed the lesson and the blessing of the gathering. you spit it and quit it. yet you believe that you earned the stripes for the work that we put in week after week.... again, i point out, you spit it and quit it... truly missing the point of what we have become, something bigger than you... truly humbled and honored for the opportunity to spit with and fellowship in an audience of our peers, a kinship... if there was ever a test to pass, you failed miserably in my eyes... no this is not just to one soldier in particular... this is to all who feel they have the write and sign off as a NEO-SOULDIER and are unwilling to put in the work...

RestDOOM

why do things always seem to start with or around the restDOOM at work? It seems paper graffiti has returned.... no wait, i'm a bit ahead of myself....

i walked into a fireworks display at sea world..... between the bombastic thumps and heavy splashes of water, my mind couldn't quite comprehend, what was singing my nose hairs upon entering the door.... i was met with the most foul odor. it was almost as if something in something in something in something in something had died about a million years ago and clawed it's way to freedom... this was fossil shyt and farts which once combined with air, exploded... canvassing all that lay in it's path.. what does one have to eat to obtain that level acridness? mystery shyter was at it again... except this time it was lethal... i, as usual, filled to the brim with coffee and water COULD NOT fathom making the 300 yard or so trek to building five.... the cleanest of all. so, i took in what i believed to be my final gulp of air and entered the stall. now, there are ONLY THREE STALLS and one is handicapped. since we have several people in the building who need it, i don't use it... so i was forced into the one next to mystery shyter... there were no signs to remind her to courtesy flush... so she just sat there, with what i know had to be tons of *7^%$-+@*&}\. (there was no word to describe it) i'm thinking to myself "we both know what you're doing could you at least FLUSH THAT SHYT DOWN THE TOILET".... i was also thinking of the infamous line in Armistad "Make us free." Surely she was not immune to the *7%^$^0};% (smell).. i mean it would make skunks, stink bugs, wolverines, hyenas, and tasmanian devils fall to their knees and call her GOD... she just sat there holding her breath, trying not to move, then had the unmitigated gall to move her feet over... like i didn't know someone else was in there? is she fcking crazy? what? did she believe that she had some super power, like turning invisible while taking a dump? i was beginning to become angry with myself cuz it felt like i would never get thru.. and i still had to wash my hands.. all the while fearing that SOMEONE would walk in and believe i was responsible for the contamination.. and believe me that what she was doing..... i rushed to wash my hands and immediately walked outside the restDOOM door to the exit door. i needed to air off.... as i walked i wondered if fabreeze would have helped....
a few hours later as i am preparing to leave for the day, of course, i have to go to the restDOOM again.....
as i enter, i realize that paper graffiti has returned. you gotta love her tenacity and determination....
the signs had returned, except this time there was a new one. upon the stall in which mystery shyter occupied earlier was a sign, neatly hand printed on salmon paper, it read: PLEASE DON'T USE UNTIL CLEANED.
man... what da fck. makes you ALMOST WONDER what really happened in there... and i hoped that the ushers for the devil which had escaped from depths of her ass earlier weren't running around the building trying to take over...

MiN Its W/out U

begging
to
go
unnoticed..
your scent
danced
along reverberations
in sychronicity
to heart
skips
echoing
along light
dimming
low
slowed
to
absence
of
tick
tock
slowed
to
accents
of time...

Friends? Really? I'd Like To Keep It Real.........

I wear my aloofness like a badge of honor, it is as natural to me as breathing. I have never strived to be liked. i consider the innate desire to "morph", "blend", "meld" into this "person-thing everyone likes" as a true sign of weakness. come on, you remember the infamous audre lourde quote from the best man.... "if I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive." kurt cobain said, "trying to be someone else is a waste of the person you are." i mean, what's wrong with being you and learning to do you well? i do me well... one of those qualities is to "keep it real" .... so the following is "keeping it real" as told by thir13teen....

just because we frequent a common place, share a common interest, share a mutually common circle of peers/associates/acquaintances, does not make us friends, that shyt don't say friendship, n****a... all it says is we have commonalities, it does not make us friends....never has, never will....

i struggle. always had with people. i am peculiar, especially by black folk standards. i'm pretty standoffish. i'm not exceptionally warm, nor welcoming, yet by rote, i can be engaging, charming, friendly.... i was reared in a home which prided itself upon mannerable children, who spoke eloquently, and were able to maintain a sense of self. ignorance would prompt the outsider to mistake my quiet dignity as arrogance. it's difficult not to, it seethes from my pores. my father's gift, my mother's legacy, my grandmother's determination. i will not sit, let alone, stand, for less.

which is why i struggle with this poetry thang. one, the egos are a muthafka. two, there seems to be this false sense of security, based on commonalities or shared "kinship" often mistaken for something more than what it really is.... like most poets, i too, "spit with a crewe". i owe those cats and that atmosphere a lot.
ARROGANT COMMERCIAL BREAK
i could always write. i couldn't always perform.
BACK TO THE PROGRAM
the circle made it possible for me to challenge myself as a writer. the circle made it possible for me to challenge my thinking. the circle made it possible for me to grow as person. the circle was no more than a opportunity, atmosphere which fostered personal growth as a person and as a writer. therein, we developed a bond.
question: does that make us friends? answer: hell to da naw.....
when using the thesaurus, the word friend was not associated with common. as close as you could get was connection, affection, fondness, followed by my favorite sympathy. which links us to pathos... an element in experience or in artistic representation evoking pity or compassion.
there it is.... at it's best, the extent of the relationship that i have with the "crewe." it is an experience that i consider to be rewarding and gratifying for many reasons.... and from that experience i developed a base in which to develop and explore possibilities for future friendships. some of which have manifested themselves into beautiful creations that i pray accompany me thru this lifetime into the next.... others, remain dear and near to my heart, close, not yet friends..... lastly, those, for whatever reason never seemed to connect. all of which i am forever grateful.
i liken the experience to high school. i loved high school. i was popular. i was a good athlete. it was great when i was there. but the truth of the matter is no matter how great it was, i would never go back. it's like seasons, reasons... nothing more..
and to some of the people in my poetry "crewe", i thank you for being seeds, seeds god planted in my heart without my knowledge and without my permission.... some are beautiful flowers that grow in front of the little huts, others that have grown into strong trees protecting the entrance to my the village, shading my path, cooling me during the heat, allowing me to swing and sleep under your branches..... others died from exposure, lack of fertilization.......

and while you are caught in the beauty of the moment.... there are others whom i would soak in gasoline, and play with matches around your ass.... but i will also be there to throw some water at you....... throwing water at you does not mean i am your friend, it means that i am human, i have a heart, i do not want to see anyone suffer, we once shared something wonderful, but it was just that.... a past, a past that i do not wish to return to................... i have pictures, beautiful memories that your behavior can never take away.........

SeC Onds: Simply My Way Of Missing You

ears
swallow
tears
unfelt
by eyes
praying for
taste
of waning
laughter
streaming
emotion-
less
ly
upward.
blink.
choke
back
silenced
lone
li
ness.
tongue weeps
bitter
desire,
reach(ing)
to ward
time
turning,
falling
for ward
thru shallowed
empti-
ness.
blink.
choke
back
reckon
with out
reason
while
seC Onds
mature
to
stilled
eternities....

96 Hours

you..
remain in crease of
smile.
morning dew
does
you
justice..
just us
secretly
exchanging
half glance.
passion
gleams on small
of back.
promise.
wear me
like
egyptian musk
and sassafrass
intimately..
aromatically.
reflecting
i feel dawn of sun
in brown of your eyes
there, i shall rest
until sunset..
until you
when dusk meets dawn
and
morning dew
does you
justice,
always
just us...

72 HOURS

salted beauty slips
to cheeks
saturating my dreams...
dampening your reality
cascading our hope
time...
space..
warmth..
between
that which
can only be
dis
cove
red
in mist
of prayers
whispered
along
darkened
light
wake me
in
morning.
somber.
sweetly...

You Wonder....

for once i had a good night's sleep. or a least a few hours... last night was excellent for many reasons:
one) langston is not perfect... i can become angry with him for more than 10 minutes... and we can still be friends.... he does what he does cuz he loves me..... how quickly did i forget, i fought back tears last friday 'cuz he couldn't go to the show in houston.. cute butt, peel head, crooked smile and all.. that's my friend for life.... i love you.
two) bonding with my two homiegurls KIM2 and BrandyWine.... it was cool sisters, real cool...
three) hustle's version of is it a crime.....
four) neo-soul and the gifts i have received as a result. especially the biggest prize of them all......
Commercial Break
slide thru the back door a few minutes late this am.... feeling good i skip my ass to the rest room, 'cuz a sister's wearing a fly black suit and a fierce, i say fierce stripped shirt... you have to see it.. in other words i was looking REAL cute. as i turn the corner i am greeted by Cankle Crust reeking of krispy kreme eau du toilet, and a donut hole eating grin.
"good morning" in that sing song kind of hugelonelyladydesperationpitch that i've grown to loathe, despite my pity for her.... "don't you look nice".... she's eyeballing me like i'm a fcking candy cane, like i'm a black, cinnamon locked version of gretel....
"thanks. have a nice day. walking away as quickly as i can, i think aloud "i got to play off the dress code, make myself look a little more casual."
as i walk in the restDOOM to my surprise the walls are bare... it seems
NEW CHARACTER INTRODUCTION
post no bills: paper grafitti's archenemy
post no bills has taken down all of the signs except the ones requesting that you don't pour substances down the drain... what the hell? now i have a dilema... now is the opportunity to sieze the day, put another form of obnoxious posting on the wall... it kind of sucked.
"fck." the door opens, and in walks Cankle Crust, apparently walking away did nothing to show her i was either not interested in what she had to say, or not interested in what she had to say.
she continues as if i had invited her into the restDOOM for an early morning chat...
"i see (glad you're not blind) that you girls (why do we have to be girls) were having a (BBB) meeting (3 or more black women) on the back porch."
"did you?" i say sternly, like Cankle Crust don't make me beat your ass with a jar of vasoline.... you walking that fine line between lotion and cooking oil...
"it seemed YES, IT WILL BE TELEVISED and I SAID A BOOM CHICK A BOOM were obviously upset."
"i didn't notice."
"weren't they? i mean YES, IT WILL BE TELEVISED said something about _________"...
ohhh hellll too the nawwwwwwwwwwwwww
to be continued

48 Hours

My cheeks smeared blue
color stolen from her pained rainbowed
tearing,
cascading,
painting,
yet pilfering
new
of
life
we
share(d)
i still your
exhalations of redemption
you steal my
inhalation of emancipation
gasping
confused chaos
amidst
organized anguish,
languishing..
falling upon hues of lips
longing to be spoken
to
in
shades of you....

WHITE BASS IN DA PLACE

I wanna throw - up. Some people, no, hell, I, never learn.... I feel sick... preschool - horror flick like projectile.. uhh.. It hurts to roll off the bar stool. Light breeze, good conversation on the cellie, and I'm starting to think this is a better time than any to break back to the office and get a few things done. Fortune cookies, I hate these mofos, but at least these don't have lotto numbers. "Authentic" I think as I tear the package open, break the cookie to read the first fortune. Yes, I cheat. I take the one I like. Best suits my mood.
Next full moon brings an enchanted evening "in bed", I add, laughing to myself.
At this moment, someone is thinking good thoughts of you "in bed". I would be cracking myself up right about now, if it weren't for the heaviness that was leaning into my side. I don't care what anyone says, Panda Express is like the fcking McDonalds of chinese food. Gourmet chinese food is the tag line on the cup. Gourmet my ass. Now, I could really have gone for some Pei Wei or PF Chang's. Damn car. Walking ain't no joke right 'bout now, even if it is directly across the street from the grounds I work on. I'm full. Hell, I thought you were suppose to be hungry after you ate this mess? I feel like I just had a Sunday Meal at Big Momma's on Soul Food.
Attempting to dart back into my building, I spy He-Bitch, well before he sees me, so I quietly close the door and stand outside until he passes. Can't come to work late and take a long lunch without someone trying to fck it up. He'd be the one doing his best to do so. Dirty, bloody nail beds and all swaying in the air as he switches his ass past the doorway. I wonder what he did to get released from hell this early in the afternoon? I snatch open the door to be greeted by "Smiley."
NEW CHARACTER INTRODUCTION
SMILEY: He is a mild manner man with beautiful blue eyes, with a head full of snow white air. Always pleasant, minds his own business and is ALWAYS smiling. Word is he gets paid a lot to do just that, smile, and wait til the end of next year to retire.
Smiley, does smiles and waves. You gotta love this guy. No matter how many times I come thru the door or walk down that hallway, he's sitting there staring at his computer screenSAVER smiling. I want his fcking job. For the raise. So I can get braces.... After I buy another car.
I walk into the restDOOM to wash my hands, paper graffiti hasn't been in today. I don't see any new signs. Langston and I were talking about it and thought maybe I should replace the signs with offensive ones like: Conserve water don't flush. Wash your hands with your ass... I don't know....
Walking toward my pod, I am damn near knocked over by Viejo.
NEW CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONS
Viejo: an older player, playa, loves whinnying, eating, whinnying, eating, drinking, whinnying, Asian women, Asian food, Asian cars, HE'S NOT ASIAN.
HESSMALLERANDFCKINGLOUDER: data guy, ala TOO FCKING LOUD FOR HIS SIZE.
gray streak hippie chick: Keep Austin Weireder Spokesperson w/ white streak in her hair like the chick who could freeze every damn thing up on X-Men.
I SAID A BOOM CHICK A BOOM: Grambling Tiger Cheerleader reformed into a hard working mother. Plus she's a MOFO DELTA and that don't hurt.
YES, IT WILL BE TELEVISED: a militant sister, retired military, from East Austin, TX.
Anyway, Viejo is running out 'cuz, TOO FCKING LOUD FOR HIS SIZE and HESSMALLERANDFCKINGLOUDER are talking to our co workers in our pod. Except you could hear them nearly 20 feet away CLEARLY. It's mad crazy, 'cuz I just want to sit at my desk and watch the Boondock's cartoon again. Thanks Queue!! The two pint size subwoofers are going at it, discussing data and numbers, all of which do not fall within a continent of anything I am REMOTELY INTERESTED IN. I walk in, then out. Walk in then out. Walk in then out. I am pacing like a pig going to slaughter on a mad cow farm.... At any second there will be shyt everywhere!! But I'm cool, trying to practice not being: that black girl with the funny hair, who's always on her cell phone, has an attitude. So, I walk away again. Only to return with, a fcking SONG... A song, right in my pod. And, gray streak hippie chick and TOO FCKING LOUD FOR HIS SIZE are leading the fcking chorus. Let me play Paul Wall with a bunch of negroes around my pod, all hell will break loss. Let a bunch of black people..... I'll get to that later.
Out of the blue my pod mate says:
"Hey, I think my pod mates want to get back to work. Don't you, __________"
"I'll come back later."
My pod mate looks embarrassed, and I'm sure I looked disgusted. But I was saved, in that moment I am beckoned by I SAID A BOOM CHICK A BOOM and YES IT WILL BE TELEVISED.
They want me to hit the back porch for a BBB (black bitch bantering).
to be continued.......

24 Hours

"yesterday i was the love of another's life
today i am alone...
what a difference a day makes."
she said thru salt and peppered tears which stained an angered grin tatooted upon her rainbow coloured skin...
and i, all i could do was watch from a corner. longing to kiss smudges of orange, red, and blue, as i too enjoyed the taste of another's pain.

Fools Gold and Fortune Cookies

I feel like I'm going to throw up.... I managed to force down some kon po shrimp. I have been pretty shaky, with that funny hand twitch most of the morning. It didn't help that I had Komodo Dragon coffee this morning on an empty stomach. It always makes my head feel swimmy, like my blood pressure is up or something. Wait, let me start over. Last night was pretty fcked up.
New Character Introductions:
He-Bitch: exactly what it means....
Poltergeist: She's back....
Came in to an early morning staff meeting. He-Bitch is talking in that Cindy Brady lisp kind of way. I can tell he's excited about something. 'Cuz his hand is swaying back and forth in the air, and when he finally shuts the hell up, he has this dick-eating grin. The type that even the most fierce drag queen would stab him in the back of the neck with a pencil for, in other words you could tell he was up to something. Something that made you want to use the bed of his nails forcibly to claw a one way ticket to hell for his ass.
"Good morning," he says as Poltergist walks into the door. Everyone is kind of looking around 'cuz she seldom comes to meetings, especially since she's short timing. You know in that minute it's his opportunity to HARASS EVERYONE IN THE ROOM. And that is what he does for exactly one and one half hours. He even tried to pin me a few times forcing his hand into a project which I am serving as lead. Mind you He-Bitch is my equal, well we are co-workers, I am not his subordinate. A sister did her job a little too well, and in the end he said, "Excellent job," like he'd eaten a kola nut (you know I passed up on a good one don't you?) or something equally as bitter. I could give a good fck about what he thought, only cared that it would make my work life a little easier if I allowed him to live another day. Poltergist lets him get away with everything. Treating him like a pet, patting him on the head and rubbing his stomach when he does that little pesty shyt. What she doesn't know is in her absence he sat quietly in the corner and if he thought about saying something stoopid, damn near everyone in the room moved to the edge of their seat, waiting for a chance to tear into his ass. Even though I felt like I'd won today, it didn't make me feel better...
"Follow The Advice OF Your Heart" read the first fortune cookie. I don't like the way that sounds so, I reach into the bowl and take another, "You Are A Good Connoisseur Of Food And Drink". Shyt. This is indicative of my day. My chest feels like it's going to cave in. My hand has started that funny twitching thing..... And I feel like I'm going to throw up. You know that kindergarten show and tell, or upset stomach kind of throw up? Yea, that kind.
As I walked back toward my office from lunch, I had a funny analogy. Love is not like a cold, something you catch easily without warning, it's much like mining for gold. You have to be at the right place at the right time. Or all you will get is fool's gold. That shyt that looks real, but once you scratch the surface it ain't worth a damn thing. In trying to help a friend I have learned the following:
- "I love you" can be a lie, no matter how many times it is said.
- Most people want be loved in a way they could never love in return.
- If a person continuously disappoints you, they will always be a disappointment.
Fck, TOO FCKING LOUD FOR HIS SIZE just came in. He's going on and on about something. I know damn well he knows he's loud. He's like a minature bass fcking woofer, he's made me loss my train of thought... oh well..... any way to my friend... maybe it's fool's gold, keep scratching....

Getting Coffee

New Character introductions.......
Cankle Crust: Heavy set woman whose ankles and calves are about the same size, and she wears sandals DAILY and her toes are always crusty. I used to be under the guise that certain persuasions could not be ashy or crusty she's proved that theory is false.
Cowboy Smoke: Much too old to be described as the Marlboro Man, has about a 24 inch wiry, greasy, salt and pepper braid. He smokes incessantly and wears a cowboy hat in doors.
SHESMYAGE?: A woman in my building that LOOKS MUCH TO OLD to be my age.
hiswifeshouldbeafraid: well, she should... Star Jones and Toni Morrison (get my drift?)
TOO FCKING LOUD FOR HIS SIZE: he's about 5'4, his bass voice is turned up at maximum volume. In other words he has no inside voice!

I left my desk this morning, forced away by Too Fcking Loud For His Size. History has taught us that he would be there for at least another fifteen minutes. He's babbling loudly and it's much too early to be patient. I'm hungry, without caffeine and I am not interested in what's going on in his Department. Actually he's about to get cursed out 'cuz no one can be that loud and not know it. After about five minutes another co-worker and I dart out of our pod, as we were unable to take another minute. Before leaving, I snatch my cup from my desk out of disgust, and walk over to Starbuck's a lot earlier than I wanted. Same drink different day, and I head back. As I am walking thru the parking lot, near the smoker's gazebo, I am startled by Cowboy Smoke.
"Good Morning. Nice day, huh?" he asks thru what seemed like tons of smoke and fire. I stopped and looked around before responding, "Yea, it is.". This guy never speaks to me, so I'm thinking it's getting ready to thunder or something...
"They (how the fck has THEY eluded me for nearly a year since we've been at this building) say you were on NPR."
I nod yes, and smile weakly. "Who the hell is spreading this madness?" I ask myself quietly.
"Yea, They (Again with the THEY) say you had a show, a fundraiser somewhere, sometime last week."
Again, I smile weakly and nod yes, he is making me REALLY uncomfortable, and I can barely breathe thru the Lucky Strike cloud forming in the vicinity.
"You get paid for that?" he asks out of nowhere.
Now we're getting to the root of it. "No. I do it for fun. A hobby." Then I become painfully aware, another bait... "Sorry, I need to get to a meeting," I continue, "nice talking to you?" I say as I walk away. The nerve of these people. Hell, the last time I talked to him was when I had the Mercedes, he and Lay's loud talked me about that car. Going on and on about how much it is probably worth.
As I enter the building I run into Cankle Crust. If she wears that light blue outfit another day, looking like a fluffy cloud with a little head floating on top. "Good morning," she says. I can still smell the half dozen jelly rolls she just wolfed down. She ain't fooling no one with those Lean Cuisine lunches. "I see you got your coffee. You love Starbuck's don't you?"
Yea, I thought Magic Johnson proved you people wrong when he began purchasing them and placing them in black communities. "Yes, every weekday." Another weak smile, my face is starting to hurt and I want to get back to my desk. I have a few items to take care of this morning. Remember don't make eye contact. Don't make eye contact. Damn.
"That's good. I used to drink it, but I can't afford it. It's too expensive."
"Well, you have to budget for it."
"Ohh Starbuck's."
Fck, SHESMYAGE? walks up. "We're twins. I have that cup. You know _____________ and I drink there everyday." She's smiling. It's hard not to like her but I find it pretty easy. She's a visious gossip. She and Cankle Crust can gossip their lard asses off. I heard them just last week as I was returning from _____________________, they thought I was on the phone. Talking loudly about some woman, her divorce and how she's losing her hair.
FLASHBACK
"Ohh, __________. I thought you were on the phone." (AGAIN THE PHONE COMMENTS. Where's your life? On the other end of my phone line.
"No." I say pretty disgusted as I pull the end of the ear piece out of my pocket and twirl it in the air.
"She has a show coming up. That's when you see her using that piece in her ear. She talks with the phone to her ear." Cankle Crust says correcting SHESMYAGE?.
I'm thinking to myself damn, what color are my underwear? Bikini or boy cut? You're on it. "Well, I gotta go." I say, even more disgusted and visibly shaken. And I continue on my way. Man, I am suppose to show some respect, but damn can they show me a little?
"Good luck with your show. You should invite us sometimes."
Are you crazy went thru my head, but I mouthed, "Sure, next time."
BACKTOPRESENT
"What are you girls talking about? My favorite place?" Up comes, hiswifeshouldbeafraid, "I can't live without it."
"Yes, I was admiring __________ 's cup. I have one exactly like it," SHESMYAGE? exclaims.
"Oh, that's darling. I should get one." he says. Last week for halloween, he wore pink frizz around his waist and head, dancing around with a wand. Now I ain't saying he's a golddigger, but he ain't......
By this time, I'm feeling like I'm in some hell version of the fcking walking twishyt zone, cuz these stoopid mofos are talking and cackling around me. To any sane person who may be walking by, they might, believe, perhaps, that I was actually talking to them. A PART OF THE CONVERSATION.
"Please excuse me," again the weak smile, what the hell is up with that?. "My coffee's getting cold and I need to prepare for a meeting."
"Nice talking to you" says Cankle Crust.
Damn, I hope nobody heard her. The few people I do talk to here would laugh hysterically at the sight of me in their company... I spill coffee on my hand as I am trying to get away.
When I arrive back to my pod, the bass of TOO FCKING LOUD FOR HIS SIZE greets me.
The co-worker who left with me ask "Where've you been?".
"Gettin' coffee."
"He's still here, you want to go get a taco?"
"Yes."
Hell, I'm back where I started. Trying to escape.
to be continued.... maybe

What U Learn From A Visit to the Rest Room

True Story
Posted Sign....
Please remember to flush after each use.
Odd. I think as I use my foot to flush the toilet. I've never noticed this before. I mean, we are at the __________ however, there is no one in my building, that I'm aware of, that has any brain degenerating disorder which would require an friendly reminder to flush.
Please remember to wash your hands.
Wow, never had a problem with that I say aloud, as I use paper towels to turn off the water. But I am also painfully aware that I should never eat... I'll get to that later.
Please courtesy flush. Please flush after every ___ seconds of sitting.
Now this sign is in the wrong place. Unstrategically placed beside the sign reminding us to wash our hands. Damn... this has to be a joke. At this moment, I believe that in any second a television camera, it's crew and a bunch of balloons or something similarly goofy is going to pop out of no where and scare me half to death.
Please pick up your trash, the restroom is only cleaned once during the work day.
Someone needs a "fcking life. I think, carefully placing another paper towel between my hand and the door knob, as open it to walk into the hallway.
Chuckling, I pondered. Then realized the author of the posted signs was passive aggressive and pretty fcking controlling. The restroom in itself is pretty dreary, dimly lit, with a mild eggshell paint, with the putrid combative smell of aged bleach, dirty mops, and spray sanitation/germicide. It smells like a nursing home. Most of the women who enter are not ladies, and can be described as barbaric. There's the woman who suffers from anorexia who takes uneaten food in containers into the stall with her, does godknowswhat, then rushes out without ever allowing a drop of water to touch her hands. The woman who known as humpty dumpty or notre dame who grunts and coughs the entire time she's there. The mysterious "unidentified woman" who has taking a number 2 in public down to a science. No one has ever laid eyes on her. The "pp talker" who talks to you the entire time you're in there.
Now, there is someone new... paper graffiti. This could be anyone. I work in an atmosphere that lends itself to lonely older women who gossip, mother and control. When they can't bait you into one of the games, you become the object of gossip, often having things made up about you. It's hilarious, yet sad. One woman, whom I shall call Lay's), believed, then took it a step further and reported to my supervisor that I was on my cell phone (There is no policy against cell phone use). A few weeks ago, she had the unmitigated gall to walk up to me and talk. The conversation went something like this:
she "I hear you're a poet. They (who are these THEYS?) tell me you are not on the phone, but practicing during your lunch and as you go from building to building. Someone (I wonder who) told me that you use the earpiece so that people don't think you're talking to yourself and also not be disturbed (mostly used as a pesticide to keep away pests like you, but a sister is on the phone sometimes, ya know?). That you have a show or something coming up. You were on NPS or something like that. They (again who are these THEYS) say if they (who is THEY) walk up behind you (behind me? am I under surveillance?), they (who the hell is THEY and why don't I know them) can hear you. You have one poem about some music or something and they (I'm never going to be introduced to THEY am I, Bitch?) really like that one. I always thought to myself (did it hurt?) when I would see you (so now you're looking for me 'cuz you work on the other side of my building), that girl's (why do I have to be a child?) always on the phone. And I told someone (now we both know damn well you didn't stop at one. you're ass is like a bag of Lay's potato chips, can't stop at one), that girl's (again, what's with the girl?) always on the phone. And they (you have one more time with the THEY then I am going to walk away before I catch a case) said no, she's a poet she's practicing...."
Did I get a word in? As Whitney says HELL TO DA NAW. This __________ continued to talk as if 1) she wasn't offensive 2) like she didn't deserve to be cursed out and 3) like she could continue running her fcking mouth and walk away with her teeth intact. It's a bunch of nutty ass women exactly like that walking freely around my building. So why would I expect different, graffiti artist clearly AMPLIFIES that something is definitely missing in their lives.... A LIFE....
I can feel graffiti artist, I'm also tired of walking into a rank smelling "ladies" room, with trash all over the floor, being brushed by people who don't flush, let alone wash their hands. But here's a few things to keep you sane:
1) holding your breath when you enter the restroom.
2) flush with your foot.
3) use paper towels when using the faucet handles, open the door and place them in the trash can outside the door.
4) don't make eye contact, it's an invitation to talk... and when they do talk, look interested, but never say a word.... they will eventually stop.
5) the most important... NEVER EAT POTLUCK THESE _________________ are NASTY...

THE KIMBERLEY - The Last Wilderness

Kimberley has been turbulent, from volcanic eruptions to major extinction events to ice ages. The Kimberley region, which the local guide book refers to as 'one of the world's last great wilderness areas . . . To explore the wild Kimberley is an adventure you will never forget.......

You know. Despite my best efforts to hide, you know better than anyone, that despite my best efforts to remain remote, distant, isolated, therein lies a unique richness and beauty. The pain of loss, has carved wedges in my soul, creating a disconnect between what is real, and that which I have imagined.... created out of fear of getting too close. "They always leave, or worse, cease to exists on this plane, in my lifetime. They die, simply disappear." My desire to be safe slowly dissipates as I continue to embark on this journey toward me..... one I know I have to travel alone.

Life Would Be Great If It Weren't For The............

Didn't post yesterday. Torn between something beautiful and a rant. I needed to reflect and ponder, so I chose neither.
Often we are asked if we care about what another thinks of us. We are taught first impressions are lasting ones, let your deeds speak for you, keeping up appearances, etc. anything that "shows" another person who you are. I have never really cared what people thought of me, only how easy or difficult they could make my life based on their beliefs. So, no, I don't always make good impressions. Doesn't mean I don't try when I'm thinking about it. Sometimes I talk too much, others too little. At least two of the people who would describe me as their least favorite person in hell have " forgotten" the numerous good things I have done for them. So much for deeds. Truth of the matter is I would rather walk out of the house in flip flops/converse tennis shoes, an overpriced t-shirt, equally overpriced baggy jeans and jean jacket (despite my upbringing). I drive a 1984 volkswagen rabbit, as I am only interested in where the car will take me. People have talked about the car, less about the way I dress (thank goodness). Have tried to spend my monthly wages, "she has a good job and makes enough money to get a better car... well you know she lives by herself, has a mortgage....but she has a good job, though.." They probably don't mean anything by it, I think it's just people. We have to talk. And I am by no means living in a glass house, I have had my share of words. I just try not to be as viscous. I ask questions and when I do speak up, it's bluntly honest based on my opinions and experiences. That's the only place I know to come from.
I'm angry, not because it's my true feeling, but because I'd rather be there than the delusion and disappointment that is currently weighing me down. Langston says one of my biggest problems is that I believe people will act the way I would in various circumstances, I have unspoken rules of life. That, often, the root of my hurt is I believe people will act as I do. The way I see it is people are selfish and self seeking in nature. It's true, it's written in the Bible. Actually, the bible refers to man as "the intent of a man's heart is evil from his youth...." I don't refer to people as evil. Yet some would say I was....
Cases in Point:
a poet person whom i still care about, but had to seperate myself from because they were just too damn heavy. well, he's blaming me for only performing once during the weekend showcase.
- it was for charity, it was about the family not about you. how fcking selfish and egotistical are you?
- i wanted everyone to perform ONLY ONCE as not to have to deal with the selfish, egotistical bs in the first place. i wanted to be fair, even though it ONLY exists in it's truest form in the fcking dictionary.
- there was an initial list for 6, count it SIX poets to perform twice. Between two people you were not chosen. i didn't change the format or my mind, i was also out-voted!
- and NO i'm not jealous that we both finished 5th, (or did you finish 6th? that's how much I care) for slam team finals IN TWO DIFFERENT CITIES, and you lucked up and moved ahead because TWO people from that slam team went to another team. Get a fcking LIFE. And think about it, when have you ever finished ahead of me when we were in the same slam? Get a fcking LIFE.
- lastly, i could go on but.... get off the cross already, jesus ALREADY died for our sins, he did a good job, everyone's still taking about it, your's pales in comparison. get a new act and stop blaming everybody and being angry because you believe they're "Hatin'" ! Please.... Maybe if you shut the fck up you'd hear a compliment or two.
my life, is a bit uncomfortable 'cuz i got to hear about the shyt. hell, if i had the power you gave me........ oh my gosh the things i'd do with the blink of an eye.... and funny, even then you wouldn't be impacted cuz you never cross my mind... except of course incidents like this.....
some others bs....
- because i have what most believe to be a big mouth (speaking what's on my mind) most are quick to repeat what i say..... ask me, it's been proven i have no problem repeating it. the problem is the sneaky people who bring you this bs are trying to tell YOU SOMETHING.... searching for their own answers.. making a sly point... think about it, why would anyone go out of there way to hurt your feelings?MEANING THEY HAVE A HIDDEN AGENDA!!! no blind or mute jokes, to make my point... but were there three or four blind mice? people see what they want. it's never my job to snatch pink tinted glasses from those who want to see the little PRETTIES, or steal candy from babies...
- i am really not mean. i only say what's on my mind. sometimes, i can sugar coat it, sometimes i can't.
- i stay away from you and the nonsense, well, cuz i just don't have the energy. do you know how hard it is to carry my weight, let alone carry your big ass all day? and you can weight he size of an ant, but if i have to carry you too long, your ass also becomes big!!
- if you trust me, then you can trust me. i work at not betraying your trust, even on those rare occasions when it impacts me. or you have to talk badly about me to sell your own tired ass.... believe me, i have been the fcking bad person for a lot of BAD PEOPLE and never opened my mouth.....
- how can some one who hardly talks to ANYONE on the scene aside from Wednesday nights get so much attention.
and to those who just don't understand....
- there are laws in the continental united states for your behavior.
- when a person says they don't want you, it's not a game. they don't want you.
......i aint't no motherfcking rockstar so i don't want no got damn groupies.....