last gratitude of September 2007

When you can't find your own, you use someone else's. Gratitude from the good book and others....

I fell once, will do so again, thanks for the strength and fortitude to get the F' up!

01) If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you. Mathew 10:13. Thanks, for allowing the peace to return.

02) Shake off your dust; rise up, sit enthroned, O Jerusalem. Free yourself from the chains on your neck, O captive Daughter of Zion. Isaiah 52:2. Thanks for the cleansing. I feel lighter.

03) I thought to myself, "Look, I have grown and increased in wisdom more than anyone who has ruled over Jerusalem before me; I have experienced much of wisdom and knowledge." Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind. Ecclesiastes 1:16-17. I will never understand everything in it's entirety, and trying to do so will drive me insane. It simply cannot be done. And that's perfectly okay.

04) Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work Ecclesiastes 4:9. Love ya much.

05) If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up. Ecclesiastes 4:10 Thanks for calling me friend. Thanks for letting me know I am never alone.

06) Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking lies. Psalms 34:13. What a good time I'm having staying in my own lane.

07) I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me. Psalms 3:5. Thanks for every breath, every step.

08) Listen, O heavens, and I will speak; hear, O earth, the words of my mouth. Deuteronomy 32:1. Thank G.O.D. for Thursdays and Poetry.

09) Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past.... Deuteronomy 32:7. My Village and those we've lost this September.

10) Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions. Dalai Lama taking control of my life this month has never been so rewarding.

11) "You can't think how I depend on you, and when you're not there the color goes out of my life." Victoria Woolf My sister and I turning another corner, strengthening our bond. As great Grand always said, "in the end, you're all I have." It doesn't hurt that I have the best niece and nephew in the whole world!

12) "After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music." Aldous Huxley thank u crown royal on ice for the sneak peak! thank you for the cd surprise! my little green monster.... yes angel, how the hell did I go witout one for soooooo lonnnnggggg.

13) There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein G.O.D. family and friends, thanks for being patient and kind as I continue to move toward clarity.

As Angie Says THE FREENESS!

You can listen to Jagged Edge (HOT!!!), yet an exceptionally short CD (38.5 minutes or so) as well as Keisha Cole on BET transmissions and listen up.

Jill Scott The Real Thing: Words and Sounds Volume 3

By now, every sister who believes she has a multitude of frenemies has banged the "sister with an attitude anthem of the summer" Hate on Me, by multi platinum performance artist extraordinaire Jill Scott. I wasn't exceptionally impressed with the song, but I needed Jill to give me something, after the dismal and disappointing, Collaborations released last Spring. Hate on Me, is simply a catchy play ground tune, and pales in comparison to the third installment of her Words and Sounds series.

The Real Thing: Words and Sounds Volume 3, is an excursion into a poet, singer, songwriter's soul, innermost beauty, and painful break-up with husband Lyzel Williams. I have not been moved by a collection of emotions on a single album, since Me shell N'degeOcello's Bitter.

The intro, Let It Be, gives us a sample of the beauty and strength of her voice. As a poet we all know retorts, "she feels trapped in a box", Jill, too, proclaims she and her music are universal, and to just ".. whatever it is, let it be."

The melodic rock influenced mid-tempo title track, The Real Thing, is fantastic, ".... when you're lost, and need some focus. Come see me." Although she sells herself short with some lines "like Cleopatra Jones, I can set your straight" the song in itself is really good.

But, when she gets into what she does best, ballads. You want more. Come See Me, My Love, How's It Make You Feel, Insomnia, and Whenever You're Around we find Jill at her best, vulnerable and honest. And every woman's questionable desire "Wanna Be Loved" is a smooth request.

How's it Make You Feel, should clearly be a sister's mantra. Questioning every person who takes black women for granted. She questions "how would if feel if every black female in the world disappears..... No brown sugar on your cocoa." Hauntingly beautiful and moving. She doesn't provide answers, just questions.

On Epiphany, we find her sultry clear voice, rapping to a what appears to be a ?uestlove drum beat, with a nice riff in the back ground. Her voice, pure and sensual. Pay attention to the words, as it is true poetry. Would love a remix with the Roots or Common. Crown Royal, along the same lines, has a smooth beat, very poetic. Both songs are equally erotic, if you are able to follow the words. Excellent word play.

As usual, there are a couple of bonus tracks. Look for Imagination/Crown Royal Suite.

For those of us that have been thirsty for TRUE JILL, this is a must have. She has matured as an artist and as a woman. We are able to experience true artistic emotion void of radio catch phrases, vulgarity, and insulting sexual visuals. Instead, we find Neo-Soul at it's best, lyrically rhythmical. You won't find this music on the radio. As a matter of fact, true fans will be GRATEFUL that she does not get any air play, as it would be an insult to sandwich her between "Crank Dat" and "Bed".

Jill Scott, along with Queen Latifah aka Dana Owens's Trav'lin' Light a second foray into the realm of jazz, soul, and blues as well as the incomparable Me shell N'degeOcello's The World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams will all be released on September 25, 2007. Go out and support the sisters.

Check out VH1.com's The Leak to listen to The Real thing: Words and Sounds Volume 3, in it's entirety.

Friday

Last night was fanfingtastic. ALOT of good new poetry. Angel you missed baby girl's new piece. It was fiyah! I was PROUD for both of us. Sandbloom was great! I'm holla'ing at you Baby Boy, "CROWN ROYAL ON ICE!!!!"

Thankful on a Thursday? How about a hell ya!

This has been probably one of the most HEALING SEPTEMBERS EVER! And I'm topping it off with a card and domino party at the end of the month. It's all women for a couple of reasons, most important:
01) Celebrating our sameness and differences
02) And of course my Village.

Anyway, yesterday we went to San Antonio to visit my grandfather. It was soooooooo f'ing cool. As I've grown up (significantly this last year) I recognize the importance of roots. Often I act as if I don't have or want any. I do. And I've found it out more this year as I've moved past my hurt and self loathing. (A year ago, I would have never admitted that!) Anyway, my Grandfather met ELM and they literally talked damn near all afternoon. My aunt, my mother's younger sister, now resides in my Grand's home/my childhood home. She's made changes, yet it had the same feel, and we talked about my Grand for hours. That was healing in itself. I mean, I had people who KNEW her to talk to. We laughed, swallowed tears, and just fcking remembered. And for the first time in a long time, it hurt good. Don't get me wrong, I STILL MISS MY GRAND. But it was different. I had all types of strange dreams about her and the house last night, AND I didn't wake up sad or indifferent. I woke up feeling like I missed her, and she was just a whisper away.

I had dinner with the Fellowship of the Wangs last evening, and that, well, it was what is always is: A FCKING BLAST. Man, I truly love the way you guys love me and all my BULLSH..... Thanks for everything each and every time. I truly appreciate how you're always willing to keep me honest. EVEN WHEN I SWEAR I ALREADY AM. You just make me see things in a different light.

Not like everything is coming up roses in my life. I still get pricked, yet, it doesn't stop me from picking 'em.

So, thus far my lessons of September 2007..

01) ELM (and the Twig) - Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you. Where you go, I will go; where you lodge I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die — there will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you.”

02) STINK (my younger sister, niece and nephew) - For there is no friend like a sister, in calm or stormy weather, to cheer one on the tedious way, to fetch one if one goes astray, to lift one if one totters down, to strengthen whilst one stands.

03) Angel/Chucks-Veedubs/Copa/Eb/Joey/Mo/TeeTee - Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. You guys already know individually and collectively I have worked f'ing hard to make sure that we would always be cool, and I'm glad that nothing changed, you trusted my word and i trusted yours. and in some cases, when things look f'd up, we came to each other to make sure there'd never be any misunderstandings.

04) Brian/Chelle/Sarah - God will have a humble people. Either we can choose to be humble or we can be compelled to be humble. . . . We can choose to humble ourselves by conquering enmity toward our brothers and sisters, esteeming them as ourselves, and lifting them as high or higher than we are. (I am now humble. And I pray that one day we can rebuild, I have moved past my offenses, and pray that I can be forgiven for mine.)

05) June/Herman - Cherish your visions and your dreams, as they are the children of your soul; the blueprints of your ultimate achievements. (thank you for helping me find myself!)

06) my village - A hundred men may make an encampment, but it takes a woman to make a home. (you may not be here, but you're always in my heart....)

these are prolly the most significant lessons, since these are the people most are familiar with. I included my sister, because every once in a while she reads my blog, and I don;t want her to think anything, even though I know she won't. just covering my ass.

Gratefully Yours...

01) ELM.... I guess we are truly meant to be. I mean, what else can we survive together? I love you.

02) You wanting to me to meet everyone important in your life. It makes me feel so important. I love you. Friends from this to the next.

03) Yes, I believe in you and always will. I tease you and call you the mini me, but YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT! You already know....

04) Veedubs, chucks, and basketball and your soon to be wife. Just happy we made it pass and through it all. Feels good to have you back in my life.

05) My card and domino partner, DAMN I wish we could get it right in every other aspect. 'Cuz, hell, you're just not suppose to do that type of damage without connecting on so many other levels. I pray we start over, and find out what that connection truly is.

06) COPA. WHAT! thanks for delivering the other woman in my life. hahahahahahaha And yes, you better get your butt back soon. (MUYAH)

07) Those who took off to New York, miss you and do it real big!

08) My best work buddy, I don't know how I get by in life or work without you. Seems we've known each other forever.

09) I GET TO SEE MY PAW-RAN TODAY!!! He was suppose to come to Austin, but my Aunt took him to Corpus for his birthday, so we're driving home today.

10) For spending a few hours on Saturday with my sister watching my nephew play basketball. I loved it. I miss my younger sister sooooo much, so these little weekend things are starting to give me so much more energy.

11) For Mary, my Mustang. She just WOULDN'T LET ME TRADE HER IN ON SATURDAY. (yes, Mom, I know, we can't part yet.)

12) For macaroni and cheese made from love.

13) For the birthday girl, for those who witnessed it, YOU BETTER NEVER SAY I'M QUIRKY!!!!

Bonus - Kevin Sandbloom and Poetry tomorrow tonight!!!! Looking forward to it.
PS BONUS - an e-mail exchange to an old friend.
BONUS BONUS - Jill Scott, I'm Still Here..

Happy Birthday Joan and Paw-ran!

Happy Birthday Joan, my locked sister girl!!!

Happy Birthday Charles E. Belisle.. My Grandfather

what did i do to deserve this?

THANKS COPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Missing Grand and Wishing Tweet a Happy Birthday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

ELTON RAY FRANCIS (TWEETY)

Grand, today was the last day i had an opportunity to see you in the beautiful costume God and the Angels prepared for you on your journey on this plane. As our song states, even if i don't recognize your presence, you're still here. miss you, love you.

i am afraid to dial your number. your number is still programed in my phone. if someone answers, i am not sure if i can handle it. am too afraid. so, i'll leave it alone. last week the world mourned. i didn't mourn alone this time, a few people checked on me, prolly more had me in their hearts, but my exterior continues to keep them at bay. i'm trying to let go of the thick shell, i NOW KNOW I AM MY WORST ENEMY AND CRITIC! yet i chose to mourn alone.

ANYWAY a post from 9/11/06
their grief is not mine. yet, i have no tears.... in this moment. i really wish i could reach out to you. talk to you once again. some days i know the reason you are no longer with me and i can embrace it. others, i selfishly and angrily lash out, as i feel alone. believing no one understands. forgetting you, means forgetting her, her, her, and her. and i can't let go. that means i let go of me. i'll read etheridge knight before the day is over... (the idea of ancestry: " i have no sons to float in the space between..") . i remember how i would tease you with a weak impersonation of aunt thelma calling you "maug" or great grand's "ma'ga'reet" ? they're all gone now. i have no connections to home. but i miss the game: "whatisitkim?" or "is this my first grand child. my favorite?" the last year has not been as difficult as the previous. i have grown. i drink less and talk a little less. i am abandoning the name i picked up the year of your death (thirteen) i no longer feel as angry, but grand... i'm still hurt(ing). i talk less to escape but to communicate. i need her now as much as i need you. to help me fill in the blanks. and to find the strength of your voice. i have talked less, yet people really don't care. they have thier idea. i'm learning to trust. i've stopped the phone from ringing and eliminated the "frenemies". you know the ones who believe they know, but know very little. funny, huh? the exercise of select memory. they don't know what you've always known. i am STILL the loneliest when surrounded by others and the insecurities of being "visible" eat away at me. i've never liked a lot of attention, it means you're first in line for criticism. my tongue continues to get me into trouble, but not nearly as much. grand. i've learned a bit about choosing my battles wisely, occasionally i will build and climb mole hills disguised as mountains. i still love HARD, and i still love her. i still pace when i'm nervous. my locks are longer. i'm still working on a personal relationship with god and not arguing religion. and yes, i still engage in that pensive piercing gaze listening, looking at no one, but seeing every one and thing. i keep it because that's all mom left me, besides my name. but you know this. you know that i cling to black and white fibers from a worn picture, searching for her in me. that connection was you. now you're gone. selfishly i need you to be here, on the other end of my phone line. i need you to tell me "everything is gonna be okay. grand is here. you can always come home." HOME. that word has been foreign to me for two years. maybe the rest of my life... the matrons in my village have transcended. and grand, some days i swear there are restless savages hiding behind vacant huts, waiting, plotting, my failure. i don't believe i have the strength, and on those days i need you. i need your physical self to chase them away. i need someone who understands enough to help me, even if they are figments of my imagination. so i muster the strength to stand tall and guard a village described in our million tongued tale spoken between tongue and cheek. It is a combination of our stories, told in a collective voice and it always begin with: there is a village that lies just outside my soul. where the blood of my pen and the ink of my heart connect. it flows thru my body, pump words to an ever flowing well... it is there that the matrons of my village replenish me, nurture me, protect me, guide me and sustain me thru this lifetime.. they are me, and i am we... and i have no sons to float in the space in between....

p.s. i'm listening to jill scott.... tell me how you feel if i was gone.... if there's no me there's no you.

weekend..

I WISH THERE WAS MORE TIME IN THEM. THIS WEEKEND WAS BUSY AND HELLACOOL.

fridays in state government!

my coworker and best work buddy gave me a stability ball to use as a chair at work. now, most days we have contests trying to see who can balance the longest. i'm winning, i sat balanced on the ball for over 8 minutes. your tax money is really coming in handy! well, at least during lunch!

Don't Nobody Know......

i can smell the sweetness
of goodbyes in the innocence
of a kiss;
or a whispered hello
riding the waves of uncertainty.
i recognize that every
beginning is inevitably
an ending.
not because i live to die,
i‘m just dying to live.
dying to be free.
dying to realize my dreams.
dying to shed the skin i’m in.
dying to bleach my reddish brown
tinted pigmentation to become invisible.
dying to move forward.
dying with each and every
misstep,
mistakenly taken
for granted as foot steps.
‘cuz most days,
well most days
i’m standing still.
rooted in duplicity
dying two lives,
living two deaths.
neither of which fulfill
or sustain me.
at night
i live that of a poet
hiding behind verse
and verbs
dying to live for words
to build character,
create a subtext; or
at least be the predicate
proceeding the subject
of the self imposed run on sentence
oft referred to as a life that makes no sense.
i want to start at the end
but, it to has to begin.
and often,
i’m afraid to sit in silence
‘cuz i’m not sure if I’m alive
or dead.
if i'm simply the pregnant pause
connecting one sentence
to another.
and what, well,
what if i’m truly living
and this,
shit this is as good as it gets?
or if in fact,
i'm not living 'til death,
but dying 'til birth?
or if in fact,
i’m a blink in another’s eye,
an afterthought in another’s mind,
a dream she can’t wake from,
or a nightmare he has no escape of?
and what will be the words uttered on
the last day of my birth
or in first gasp of my death?
remember i’m dying to live.
dying to shed the skin I’m in.
dying to make it to the beginning.
dying to make it back to the womb.
living to die a death worth dying.
and begging
that each and every time
i fall to my knees,
either in prayer or defeat,
that those imprints are heavier than any steps
i could have made while on my feet,
‘cuz i want to be humbled......
kdtaylor, 2007
section 8 coffee publications
all rights reserved

2nd thanks....

01) surviving another 11th.
02) my little green monster!
03) shorter days and longer nights!
04) the rain... my gosh it finally washed away the mold and my headache.
05) catching up with you, i miss you too, magnolia!
06) fellowship of the wings!
07) i.m's that make me laugh so hard I forget I'm at work.
08) getting to see my grandfather!
09) a friend who really doesn't need my input, but bounces ideas and thoughts off me anyway.
10) that the spirit fingers and red hair make her happy!
11) that you got it off your chest. and i loved the short shorts. but does he know you left the house like that?
12) that she is blossoming even though she thinks I don't care, and am angry. I may not comment, but I've been reading. Find your place in this world and be happy in it. And I couldn't be happier for you. REALLY!
13) everyone is writing and it's fiyah. been loving the poems and posts.

bonus: EVERYONE. thanks for being POSITIVE lessons that i learn from. my exterior cannot express what you've done for the internal.

extra bonus: i once spied forever in the brown of your eyes, and i never wanted to look away. i still don't. love you.

Moment of Silence. 2

The nation was mourning, and I was trying desperately to avoid bad news. Flipping channels mindlessly, I allow the television to chose what it wants to watch. I wanted only to avoid the images that burned deeply in my mind, reminders of the tragic event which occurred September 11. Only to have my world torn a part three years later. I lost my tower of strength...

Margaret R. Belisle

What am I to do?
Now that words seemingly wish

to cease to flow from my lips.
time has eluded me,

and every moment we have spent together
has come to this single space in time
when I have to let go,
have faith

and believe

that everything is exactly
the way it’s supposed to be.
That our last words
were indeed our last…
that the hugs and smiles we shared
must forever be imprinted in my memory.
And that I pray them

over and over again.
In my mind
wanting to know.
wondering.
Did you know how much I loved you?
Counted on you?
Needed you?
What am I to do without the arms
that I now know worked simultaneously with God’s
to shield me from harm?
Always protecting me.
Even when I believed they were holding me back.
You were my hero before I ever knew the meaning.
So, now, I ask.
Is it too late to let you know,
that your arms were always big enough
to hold me

and my worries...

kdtaylor, 2007

section 8 coffee publications

all rights reserved

Yes, our song is still the hidden track on Jill Scott's cd. I am a boisterous river. I am a mountains story. I am a quiet feeling. I am a fragrant flower. I am a moonlit evening. I am a peaceful night. I am a writers thinking. I am a wealth unfathomed. And if you don’t recognize my presence, I am here. And if you don’t recognize me, I am here. I am a source of power. I am excited journey. I am the rock of patience. I am a whisper singing. I am unbridled freedom. I am the thought from thinking. I am a love unshattered. I am the great orgasm. And if you don’t recognize my presence, I am here. And if you don’t recognize my presence, I am here. And even if you don’t recognize me, I‘m still here. And even if you don’t recognize me. And even if you don’t recognize me, I‘m still here. And even if you don’t recognize me, I am, oh, I’m still here. . Even if you don’t recognize me, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

Another moment...

for all those who lost their lives,

gave their lives,

risk their lives,

and protect our lives..

that morning and everyday since September 11, 2001.

Moment of Silence.

Mary Elizabeth Taylor

After she descended no one really asked

how she got the scar.

they simply stared.

pierced through the shambles she called life,

tore through her false pretenses

dropped their cold gaze to her nail bed

and assumed.

assumed the dirt and blood,

tattooed beneath them

held buried secrets.

and it came

from clawing her way from hell...

never believing that an angel

can have both.

a keloid scar from the fall,

and the earthen remains

from constantly picking yourself up

and a part.

angels walk among us

and greet us with toothless smiles,

clutch bottomless nightmares,

while sipping dreams from

brown tinted bottles

masquerading as hope.

once i spied her,

crouched in the corner

main-lining our tomorrows,

and nodding through her past.

she spoke in tongues

disguised as yawns, and mumbles;

but i heard her.

and i still do.

screaming through the sun's rays

and whispering in the dead of night.

kdtaylor, 2007

section 8 coffee publications

all rights reserved

Blink One Year and a Day....

If it is my last, let it be a prayer.....

One year and a day ago, we said good-bye. I pray that my village is treating you well. I have come to believe that you guys don't just hang around among clouds, looking down on our dumb butts... however, the thought is comforting... you know, our way of holding on...

So this is what I'm thinking our convo is like...

I know, my mom and aunt are beautiful women. I always wanted my mom's eyes, and aunt's smile. My aunt suzy is a trip, right. I know you and she are laughing your butts off almost daily. My grand? Yea, that's her exterior, you see where I got it from? Yup, after you get to know her she's warm, giving and loving. Did she cook yet? I know the peach cobbler or the shrimp casserole are off the chain! She's flirty, though. She justs like to see if she still has it. She looks good for her age, though. Great grand? Yes! She's a sweetheart. Doesn't she tell the best stories? She has a lot of wisdom. Did she tell you about the time I set the Johnson's front yard on fire? Stop laughing, I only ran because I was afraid! I mean a bomb made of jumping jacks, black cats, a bottle rocket, a sparkler and a pack of little firecrackers seemed like a good idea at the time. Who would have thought it would have caused a fire. My great aunt doesn't talk much. Is she still singing "hey good looking, what you got cooking"? She sings it when she's happy.

Me. I know. It's different. The love will always be there, though.

In the meantime... I'm blinking.

Prayer: an earnest request or wish

I have learned that words are powerful.
Not by talking, but silence.
The absence of conversation.
The absence of conversation from someone meaningful.
Important.
Someone you love.
Someone you miss.

We still talk.
Just not through words.
But dreams and whispers.

And if this is my last let it be a prayer.

09.09.04

Had I known that late afternoon, that it would be our last, I would have said.
"Grand, I live my life in fear. Not of life, or my choices, but other's intentions. And I know this fear causes me to, well..... Grand, I pray that you are proud of me. I know I haven't always made the right choices, but I've made the best ones. And they were based on what I knew in that moment. What was my truth..... I know it has been hard. I know I don't always make it easier for you, but I'm really okay. I'm aloof and distant, because I know one day I won't have you, and I don't know how to live in the moment. I don't know how to accept that one day you won't be there, and it will only be me and Stink. I'm glad you like my hair and believe it is "becoming". I was worried that you'd think I was crazy. I'm glad I've become a woman that you can respect. One who has seriously taken notes, and applied them to my life... I love you. You are my hero. And believe that you have been my biggest fan. I know I remind you of her. In so many ways it makes me happy, but I know it hurts you. A bittersweet life. An even bitter reminded of your eldest. Each and every time you look at the almond shape of my eyes, the way I move across a room, and the way I can stare through someone and never really see them. I hold onto these things in spite and despite. And yes, I pray that I find peace in knowing that you did the best you could with what you had. And as an adult, I've learned that's all you can expect from anyone..............."

Today was the last day I heard your voice. The last time I spoke to you. I don't think I've ever thought about what that TRULY MEANS. I know I take goodbyes for granted. I never know if it will be my last. I mean, we aren't promised tomorrow are we?

I vow to make my conversations meaningful. To treat each and everyone as if I may never have a chance to speak to them again. I will watch my tongue and be mindful of my words. I mean, if it is truly to be my last, I'd love for it to be a prayer.... simply a wish to be well in our absence from one another as well as an earnest request that our paths may meet once again.

i love you marg.... miss you much.

last night..

last night i went to neo..
it was something i hadn't done in a long time. i had not been to the new venue. nor had i read anything since nats women's open mic. truth be told, i hadn't recited a poem, or wanted to hear a poem, since before then. if i could trace it back, prolly, early july shortly after eb's wedding, i had truly decided i wouldn't read poetry until early october. unless i could get on the elusive african american open mic or the prestigious women's open mic during nationals. i was called for both, but read at one. and it was the most important one. the one for the women.
the last poem i read was "to my sisters". last night i read, "not another love poem." i read it for me, for her, and the life that we are building together.
i really hadn't made my mind up to go, nor was my heart 100% into it. not that i was coaxed or anything, but i wanted to support eb, who was going back after a brief hiatus, and mz lizz had a new piece that she was truly excited about. and i wanted to support hustle/june, because despite the obvious connection, i admire and respect them on so many levels. more then i'll ever say out loud. but, i just was not ready to go. and am sure it showed in my behavior.
while i felt estranged from everyone in the room, it didn't really matter. i was there to soak up words. i heard a lot of new voices in poetry. sentimentally, i realized i did miss a lot of the people. yet, there has been internal peace in my absence. just not ready to fall into the old, i want so desperately to go back to the older. something that while some believe they remember weren't simply there to experience. i long for the scene before there were soldiers. not bs writing labs designed to force creativity and socialization, talking and writing, because well, hell, we were creative people, not people trying to be creative. i mean, honestly, arrogantly, i miss the original, not the forced version of let's recreate the old, not recognizing there is a history and there is something older. hell there's a history older than my participation.
i want to be the old hungry poet, angel thought was "mean", who stood in the corner, shaking until it was my turn to read. no one knew me. there were no elaborate intros to create an expectation that i can't possibly meet. no judgements. no forced comments or smirks. no purposeful silence as not to let the person know the poem was hot. no .. no.. no (fill in the blank).
and i guess, after watching things unfold in the semi's and ultimately nationals, i have to say i am disappointed, yet not surprised. disgusted, but not so much that i have forgotten that poetry is in the heart and not a venue. no disdain, simply, a new attitude. no judgements, simple observation from someone who has no vested interest in the outcome. because i'm gonna do poetry as long as hustle has a venue or as long as i have a voice... but i'm not going to be the same poet person, just not that vested.
mo, i love you. miss you. wanna see you and guy, but i'm not ready. not yet. let's meet in chicago!
i truly wished it had been in my heart to socialize. because it felt good to see everyone. call it my mood, because that's what i've given you. i'll call it my guard, because, well.. hell, that's who i am. and this month, well this month, means too much to me to allow any one or thing to disturb what my village and g.o.d. has to offer in lessons and growth. this september i will cleanse and purge, walk through fire, live in new skin. i have to treat my mind and heart like my hair and my ____ everyone can't touch it and sure as hell can't be in it.
it doesn't mean that anyone i've extended or who has extended friendship to me is not important, you are and will always be, despite my silence and my distance. g.o.d. placed us in each other's lives for a reason. i just cannot continue the course we've taken. i am no longer comfortable. i'd like to start over. and if we can't, i truly understand. there are consequences to all choices. even my own.
be well.

i'm thirsty

i can't remember
what it felt like,
but i know it's left me,
wanting...
wanting like,
turning to embrace
and kiss
the shadow
of a stranger
you once called lover.
wanting...
wanting like
free falling,
falling free into
your dream's
make believe and
prayer's altered reality.
wanting.
wanting like,
knowing what it tastes like
to truly be enamoured..
devoured..
wanting..

kdtaylor, 2007
section 8 coffee publications
all rights reserved...




wanting jill scott's cd to be released, like yesterday, and me and my little green monster would be bobbing our heads to the beat ya'll.....

First Gratitude in September's loss.....

let's see there is so much to be grateful for.... september is the hardest month of the year for me. it is a month of great loss. my mother and my grandmother. and a play big brother. while in the past being thankful has been hard, as i've grown i recognize there is so much more to it...

01) my mother
02) a tweety bird.
03) 70's music.
04) new found love in old love....
05) my girls... thanks. even when we don't talk EVERYDAY!
06) poetry, it's in my heart - not at any venue.....
07) a phone call that last for over an hour while I wandered in HEB
08) rediscovering adolescent goofiness with a 16 year old boy....
09) being still and listening to their constant urgings... yes village i hear you.
10) hustle and june/a dream and a month
11) letting go and moving on
12) two days working from home
13) a drive to SA to take my sister to lunch!

it's raining

last night, i belived
i could taste forever in her tears.
it's bitter sweet saline
damped my tomorrows.
despite our temporary rainstorm,
i knew, without her smile
there was no sunshine in my future.
the sadness in her eyes,
clouds that darkened my skies.
and i prayed,
i prayed to g.o.d
a poem would
flow from my mouth,
create a summer breeze
and blow us past this moment.
a moment that seemed like forever.
when she parted her lips to speak..
the thunderous tone cracked my core,
and i,
well i, could only
turn my face toward the heavens,
open my mouth,
force myself to swallow her sorrow
and be drenched in her pain.


kdtaylor, 2007
section 8 coffee publications
all rights reserved