tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37944362007-05-10T20:37:55.855-07:00Realysistrackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-900135922003-03-02T13:33:00.000-08:002003-03-02T13:33:36.373-08:00Letting go...is for the sake of forgetting pain...that's it...there is no other motivation that i can think of....for letting go...and i will loose the sadness...and sometimes the happiness too...trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-900135072003-03-02T13:31:00.000-08:002003-03-02T13:31:22.610-08:00I just realized that... <br /> <br />Sometimes the moment when I think I am rising above my fears....above all the shyat...the moment when I truly feel empowered...is merely a moment when I am embracing denial...harvesting repression...and solidifying the notion that I think I am not worth shyat... <br /> <br />I need to stay on watch...trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-899409662003-02-28T21:23:00.000-08:002003-02-28T21:23:18.780-08:00 <br /> <br />the moment that we swallow <br />is a moment where we don't breathe <br />why was i holding my breath when she swallowed? <br />like the movement of her adam's apple rising and fallingg was a joint effort <br />i have no words for her in yoruba <br />but i want her to make it through these moments that i stare at her <br />wondering why my life just began now <br />with her being so close to her end <br />holding her hand <br />soft like melted chocolate <br />knowing that no matter how hard i held it <br />tight enough to make my presence known <br />i would still have to let go <br />a forced smile <br />heart pounding like drums <br />in a circle <br />on the discovery channel <br />chanting songs of african <br />yes <br />of this yoruba woman <br />no <br />of my american location <br />no glory to the red, white, and blue <br />just sadness for years of trying to forget <br />so i would never have to refer to a memory of red eyes <br />my shirt soaked <br />my hands glisteing <br />with everything I could not say but felt for that night <br />and that night <br />that night when i saw that everything everyone else needed <br />i needed too <br />i knew that when i looked in her eyes <br />and saw who i never knew that i was <br />saw that she is who i was coming to <br />and i was who she was leaving <br />(2/23/03)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-899398202003-02-28T20:54:00.000-08:002003-02-28T20:54:05.826-08:00I don't know what's right <br />Because I never tried what was wrong <br />Thought you were the one being impatient <br />But it was me all along <br />So I am sitting here <br />My heart beating <br />Amplified a thousand times <br />It's heavy <br />Hard to breathe <br />One day I'll learn to cry <br /> <br />I'm wishing that I heard you speak <br />When you looked into my eyes <br />But I guess my heart was weak <br />And the hurt has made it blind... <br />(2/17/03) <br />trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-899396192003-02-28T20:48:00.000-08:002003-02-28T20:48:47.746-08:00The day before my life changed (again) <br />there was a cloud in my head <br />I knew something was stirring <br />but I could not see it <br />Darkness swallowed light <br />and my stomach sunk... <br />(2/10/03)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-898686562003-02-27T16:04:00.000-08:002003-02-27T16:04:02.606-08:00life is past, present, and future. <br />but it is also merely past and present. <br />(4/10/02)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-898685692003-02-27T16:02:00.000-08:002003-02-28T21:34:32.000-08:00 It is not right for an artist to protect their emotions from the world. <br />That is why they are called to be an artist. <br />(4/5/02)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-895586932003-02-22T10:11:00.000-08:002003-02-22T10:11:15.220-08:00You have to NOT WANT in order NOT TO CARE...trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-894138602003-02-19T21:12:00.000-08:002003-02-19T21:12:41.303-08:00Love what you give more than what you recieve...trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-894138272003-02-19T21:11:00.000-08:002003-02-19T21:11:57.770-08:00I am not saying DO NOT BE AFRAID. <br />Be afraid. <br />Everyone is afraid. <br />Scared shyatless in fact. <br />I am simply saying. <br />DON'T LET FEAR STOP YOU.trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-892740592003-02-17T17:30:00.000-08:002003-02-17T17:31:28.000-08:00The Artist Date that was Myopic <br /> <br />It all makes sense really <br />sound <br />picked up by the apparatus that is our ears <br />vibration, pitch, tone <br />like pulse, smooth, soft, and quick <br />there is an urge to simulate <br />riding the waves as they bounce of the space heater <br />there is an urge to ascend to the gods you are blowing <br />and then sink on the downbeat <br />there is beauty in all those things that are rough and scratch at the most sensitive parts of the self <br />myself <br />yourself <br />himself <br />and nonsense <br />it can be really, really, good <br />even when your legs are closed <br />and your chest has reached the highs of the note you never thought that golden piece of metal <br />could make <br />out <br />can we <br />make out what instigates the quickening of my pacemaker <br />the moistening <br />and leg shaker <br />he is beautiful too <br />and i want that to be enough <br />but it is not <br />yet <br />maybe tomorrow we will bury the cat <br />(2/11/03)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-892738612003-02-17T17:27:00.000-08:002003-02-17T17:27:15.366-08:00Sometimes we have to believe people are, who they say they are, even if they might be lying... <br />(2/5/03)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-892738072003-02-17T17:26:00.000-08:002003-02-17T17:26:26.320-08:00Sometimes words are the only action we can afford to take... <br />(2/5/03)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-892736262003-02-17T17:23:00.000-08:002003-02-17T17:23:28.126-08:00you are ready to take on the world...really... <br />(2/13/03)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-892735572003-02-17T17:22:00.000-08:002003-02-17T17:22:09.830-08:00it's interesting the turn of events <br />makes me wonder where the road began <br />makes me wonder where and if it will end <br />makes me wonder what their is to virtue <br />makes me wonder why i tried so desperately not to hurt you <br />but what about me <br />what about me? <br />what about me? <br />(2/11/03) <br />trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-892734652003-02-17T17:20:00.000-08:002003-02-17T17:20:27.046-08:00friendship is about how you communicate, not who does what for whom... <br />(10/14/02) <br /> <br />trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-889136472003-02-11T07:02:00.000-08:002003-02-11T07:02:20.333-08:00Who we are is circumstantial...period.trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-886356682003-02-05T22:46:00.000-08:002003-02-05T22:46:40.640-08:00We have had several 30 second conversations with our eyes. Only <br />blinking to accentuate assertiveness. There is nothing comforting about <br />the shifts in the pupils. It only conjures more questions. The <br />moisture that you feel in the air just before a drizzle, a shower, and <br />storm. You never know unless you listen to the forecast. And who ever <br />is one hundred percent certain of the prediction? Who ever is one <br />hundred percent certain of the stare and the swallow. Good News? Bad <br />News? <br /> <br />" What are you thinking?" The words that I tried so desperately to <br />abort from my mouth, from my intention, had been given life. And it <br />wouldn't matter whether I was the deliverer or the receiver, both <br />positions being equally dreadful, because when you ask that question, <br />you never get the answer you want. Why bother? Because you have to. <br />Because the fear is worst than the analysis of the response which is <br />nothing more than an attempt to throw you off the path of the scent. <br />The direction. And when you are asked that question....no matter how <br />much time you spend....30 seconds one minute too long...you can never <br />say the right thing...which is what you are really thinking, and <br />everything else is just wrong. But you try and find something right in <br />that. Again to throw the other of the path of the scent. The direction. <br /> <br />Think fast.... <br />(1/2/03)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-884499462003-02-02T18:56:00.000-08:002003-02-02T18:56:44.493-08:00He came <br />he came <br />like a thunderstorm <br />and shook things up <br />my life <br />my heart <br />my trust <br />my weekends were spent wandering <br />searching for what he would never find <br />and only i knew that <br />even though i was by his side <br />and then he was gone <br />(9/9/02) <br />trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-864605672002-12-23T18:34:00.000-08:002002-12-23T18:34:59.900-08:00its kind of interesting <br />this idea of looking younger <br />smooth and supple skin <br />almost as if the body isn't used <br />but if you are 45 you are used (11/20/02) <br /> <br />to be continued trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-864599502002-12-23T18:17:00.000-08:002002-12-23T18:17:39.000-08:00I still have the taste of you on my lips and that would be enough <br />Save the fact that I am still hungry. <br />My tongue is pulsating <br />But it is not my heart <br />It is the sucking (12/19/02) <br />;) <br /> <br />trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-864597152002-12-23T18:10:00.000-08:002002-12-23T18:10:24.433-08:00manipulation runs through the blood of man and i taste it stronger now more than ever (12/19/02)trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-848372162002-11-20T14:40:00.000-08:002002-11-20T14:40:22.220-08:00I slowed down my breaths so that I could feel you better <br />tune my instrument <br />into yours <br />into yours <br />and we quaked before <br />and <br />after the shock <br />and even after you left <br />my shock <br />your absence <br />brought the curtain down <br />and with eyes closed i could see <br />me fast and you forward into <br />the sweet chaos of the spasm <br />that was your muscle <br />then became mine <br /> <br />to be continued...trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-847859052002-11-19T15:28:00.000-08:002002-11-19T15:28:20.223-08:00In the A.M. <br /> <br />How many times can a person hit snooze in one hour? I don't know, I think I may have hit it six times and the turned off the alarm, accidentally so I am not sure that I counted right. Probably because I freaked out when I woke up 15 minutes after I was supposed to be somewhere. It takes me 15 minutes to get there. And I hadn't showered, brushed my teeth, or eaten, and my hair is not the kind of hair that you can just get up and go with. Not unless you plan on going to sit on the corner. Grunged in a shirt and jacked and covered in thick heavy. I wonder how many double takes I would get if I stepped out of my BMW in holey sweats and this matted mat which would be defined as hair, in terms of biology. Hat, in terms of what you can see to blocks away. Pain, in terms of what I feel when I have to formulate something that looks smooth and soft to touch. With an afro-pic and a spray bottle full of water. Beauty, is what I am still trying to sell to the population at large. <br /> <br />They like you just the same...trackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3794436.post-842894872002-11-09T13:23:00.000-08:002002-11-09T13:23:12.890-08:00This here is my hand <br />my palm <br />my finger <br />my foot <br />my toe <br />my arch <br />I move in ways that you dream of during the day <br />I fidget and shake <br />during the day I fidget and shake <br />I breathe in the air to cover every cell <br />inside I close my eyes and feel everything <br />contact on skin <br />contact my skin <br />contact my skintrackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16201937022829037480noreply@blogger.com