Lioness Rising.

A snowflake
Spiralling down, falling over its masses while gently, tipping each out of place
As it makes it way down through to the bottom
As that 9 billionth flake it hit weak as it is, joins in
An avalanche, begins
All it ever took was a snowflake and that child downhill never did see it coming.
Unaware of the natural phenomenon of constant change taking place above he
Was busy skiing, who cares about the snow while you’re on it
Who cares about the little things that don’t matter... till they do
Truth is, poco a poco, little snowflakes of chances become big revolutions; avalanches.

A lady
Downright down on herself because the pieces just weren’t connecting
Or so she thinks as she reaches out to whoever would listen
Whispering embarrassing thoughts that had claimed her mind lately
A recognition surfaces
Never did take more than an outreach though almost deterred by fear of seeming insane.
That outreach of a freefall into some strangers’ hands because of some overwhelming thoughts
After sending an email blinding asking for help and some sort of guidance...in the dark,
Now, she has grown to have mad respect for intuitions, chances, and grace

In this century,
As the age of Aquarius concludes itself and we move into the Picerean times
I cannot help but feel nauseous, scared and uncertain
Feeling like the waterwaves have carried me and I am enthralled by the strength of it all
A state of uncertainty
As the world expects one thing and I too, accepts its control of me
I begin to see discrepancies between what I am, what I will and want to be
I begin to realize that my destiny isn’t as monotonous as what I am surrounded by
Slowly, I fall into an ambiguous state of fear for what is to become of this being

Serendipity,
An enlightenment in the form of a feeling that circled my temples
One that resettled my heart to its usual spot in my chest cavity
Finally, it can stop beating as if it wanted to exit this body
My heart is staying
I realize that this isn’t just me. I am not alone and neither will I be
There are other females, my age, and they too, are feeling thesame
As if these times need to be made over because they just don’t fit
Someday, the cookies will crumble just how we choose to orchestrate it...with love, and care

Equality,
A snowflake at age 6 of me saying no to feminine mind slavery; my avalanche had started
If I do not have children, I am sure that that would not make me unworthy of that four letter word
And if I didn’t choose to be a grain of rice in a white man’s plate, I would still be human
I’ll be the full plate of meal.
Tilapia fish and bokoto to boot because you see, in my mother’s land where I am meant to be, we do food like it should be
Nitoriwipe, emi ni omo oloke to mokee gun and climb I shall because I was born to shine
Edi ile ahun ni mi... if I did not walk the path that I choose, I would not be my mother’s daughter
That woman had a drive with a kick worse than these horsepowered rides
Maybe, this avalanche started before me... I truly am my mother’s daughter and she, her’s.


"...
You can call me by my name, I am ready to roll
Once the rules remain thesame, How the story's been told
Call me anytime, never cop out
Lioness is on the rise, dont you ever have doubt..."


Lioness rising,
I’d be unfair not to warn you of this tsuna-me coming
Carrying with me all that weight of guilt, doubt and fear of angering
Yes, it may seem wrong but sometimes we live right too long to realize we really should have left
I am retracing my steps to end up where I am meant to be.
This lion climbs
The Queen said it best so you may go ahead
Call me by myname as I begin to roll
And am not alone in this so climb we shall
You just picture it... a pack of lionesses, roaring on some hill
In our land, where we really, should be
Picture that, and you here that sound in the background?
Thats me singing our theme music roaring...



"...You can call me by my name, I am ready to roll
Once the rules remain thesame, How the story's been told
Call me anytime, never cop out
Lioness is on the rise, dont you ever have doubt..."







9:25am December, 29, 2010 (edited, Januray, 1, 2011 @ 0227h)
Re: convos with Tina Peperempe and Duuni of AZ

....and Repeat!

Remember that day when i played you alist of haydin’s songs and
You told me that onestood out to you?
You said you’d wondered if that song “I cant stop loving you” could be us someday and
I had a mini jolt in my mind.
It was truth, calling me to it
Urging me gently, to keep abreast of these words as
Maybe, maybe, they might mean something
I know this now, because of course, my 4 finally met its zero to perfect my vision
Somehow, I see clearly now.

You too, are death scared aren’t you?
Afraid, mate?

The moment it starts, it begins to end and the slope I once spoke of, is quite slippery, as you remind me today
Even when you said you might stay, you really were running ‘round a circle that was to get you back to where you started in time to start loving someone new and lose, yet again
But its the thrill of the ride that we chase. Its the cycle, so to find it, is to have

Loved and lost for so long, the two seem mutually compatible and there you have got your compatibility on which you build the bond you need.
Love, dream, lose, reminisce and repeat till you get enough to crash, cry, misery as you tell yourself you’d know better next time... and repeat
Love, dream, lose reminisce and I know only too well about this whole thing
Love, dream, lose reminisce.
And God forbid that one time when we get to love and dream and we get stuck at this unfamiliar junction of actually embracing love because THEN! THEN we know that that isn’t right because really, it cant possibly be as good as it gets.
God forbid you fall in love, because there MUST be somebody, ANYBODY out there better for us than this one person we’re dreaming with so best we- test it, reassess it, resist it and accept no other conclusiokn that says it just may be it because we don’t know how to deal with anything we don’t know how to lose... hop skip jump, shake it off, tuck it in all the wrong places hell, rob a bank if we must because somehow, we MUST lose it.... then reminisce in misery, and repeat.

Naughty Nothings

I want to tell you a few things.
Whisper sweet naughty nothings into your ears to make you ...
Feel me.
Get this bulky mass of appreciation out delivered from me to you so you...
You feel me?
I want to tell you a few things.
So easy to forget though you I must say, seem unforgettable. Not that I’ve tried, but hey!
Feel me.
I’d like to think I know a thing or two about worthy and if you were sized, you’d be...
Supreme.
I want to tell you a few things. Quite alot of things that aren’t easy to release because you know history teaches some harsh lessons.
After a while, naivety slithers out your life as you realize that people, can sometimes, have too much pride and people, can too often, forget how to be truthful.
May I say, sir...your humility makes you shine?
Fake it if it may be so and really, I say fake it if you must because sometimes, you’ve got to fake it to real it and who is to blame you for trying?
May I say, sir... your humility blinds my eyes?
I pick things out of your words that I don’t want to but I am sorry, I’m just trying to make certain you are real.
I want to tell you a few other things.
About how I get scared that you’d be human and when you hear it, you’d get human.
Pride, shame, guilt inter-fears of the possibilities that could be shared.
And as much as I know you are nothing BUT human, I also know that I don’t want you to be...
Feel me?
May I say sir, ... you are my latest fear?
You replace the giddiness that school brings, with thoughts of your words n... mannerisms.
And no, I am not complaining.
I am just saying... that I would like to tell you a few other things.
But you really are human, aren’t you?
Its difficult for a dreamy mind to excuse human actions but who am I not to get this?
Hey, if I may say sir, you really truly are...my latest urge.

Beauty is.

I have blemishes on my skin
Nothin photo shop cant fix
And if photoshop could be real enough to be worn
Well, then I guess I could photoshop me some wear.

Make believe am pretty to make some up to my face
Make believe the skintone is well uniformed
So much so that it just glows

Matted, yet glows.

I'd draw myself an eyebrow that arched towards the sky and curved back
As if made a short visit to the stars
Said "hi" and bounced back
Make some stardust right under those so it'd look as if my bones were perfectly shaped.
Nothing like perfectly shape'd cheekbones to look as though
They were ornaments beautifully perched on my face
My skin would have no flaw...
Oh well, maybe a dimple or two but hey!
That would only make me look more beautiful.

Photoshop aint real though... so makeup it is.
Mac'it'up, Marykay till I look like the acceptable form of me.

Because it is a war out there, and aint nobody looking to get caught off guard.
Every step outside is a run into the battlefield and you want to give yourself a figting chance.

Your lipgloss better pop twice cuz once wont cut it.
Do the red lipstick thing! Hey... i hear shimmer lids are in.

Somedays when I get back from the club, I dont want to take my makeup off.
I look so good... I dont want to go back.

Truth is, I was never born with makeup and neither was I born with airbrush...
Somewhere along the way the idea that I was far from perfect got was allowed to settle in my mind.
To leave home without makeup is to leave home without armour.

Till this day though, I still refuse to edit my pictures out of shame.
Let it be known that I know where am from though sometimes, my memory sucks.

I am from a land where beauty resides in things unforseen, things seen, things perceiveable and short there of.
Where beauty is... is!
Beauty is!
It just is.
A place where beauty isnt what you want it to be, it is what it is and what that is, is.
Beauty lives within the air and in the soil it runs on, the hills it circles and the sky it breathes... so how dare i not be enough to face this battle?

Few months ago, I found myself caught off guard. I was on a trip and to be honest, I was scared shitless to realize that I had not my makeup with me.
My false belief in my beauty challenged my pride and there I was, in conflict.
Too proud to admit that I needed makeup, too afraid to deny that I didnt.
Do you see the dillema I was in?

Needless to say, I stepped out into that battlefield and well... the rest is history.

As I stepped out into this war the sun reflected off my glow. I heard a glisten roar as I shaded my eyes with these slender dark fingers of mine.It casted on my face found refuge in my skin it simply blended in and asked to be hidden. I laughed at the thought of that... all with my 34 teeth.
I heard someone tell me that I really neeeded to get my supranumeray teeth removed and well,as I said...this truly was a battle field and since photoshop couldnt save me then, I figured I`d best be ready to save myself.
Ego. Prrriiideeee is one powerful thing.
But really, I am yet to find a good reason to remove my teeth.
So there I was wondering what to do with these words when my thoughts faded into nothing.
Really, that is all it was. It really was nothing.
This person who seemed to care so much about the tools with which I masticate. Talk about minding my beez. Wonder if he'd care to comment on my bowels too since well... he seems to give a shit.

So with the gleem of my skin and this funny dude who wanted to personally assist me in knowing enough of my business... really, there was not much to war.

There I was fumbling for the guns that were to be the words flowing from the lips with which I'd `pow`pow` the world,...eventualy they'd fall in love with me, through my lips.

But... in between the many people who walked past me, unaware and the few who seemed to stare in inquisition, I realized that I had ran out of battles to fight.

Quite disenchanting to realize that there really was no war worse than the one within me.

There I was, outside, naked. Without arms, and no one even seemed to care.
Finally
I
was
free.

Puddles need love too!

Autumn evening after its rained.
When golden leaves meet the greens broken off branches by waterdrops
After the sun has sipped off some of the rain and outside isnt yet droned in darkness.
Just then.
Before my people have gotten up to rush briskly to their daily chores.
In between the late rush and the morning one...

Lies a time so supreme, it need not boast it.

I and my little friend love doing our walks,
watching the wet leaves glue themselves lazily to the puddles that hold them.

I like watching these.
And hopping over these.
And in some cases,
when no one is looking,
I'd jump right up, and land myself right in one of these puddles.

And I know its silly,
Even my little doggy walk-friend looks up at me funny as if to say
"you need to grow up, you silly goose!"
but why would I want to hop over a puddle,
when it was just there, asking,...pleading...begging me, to relish in its beauty!
I heard it say to me "puddles need love too" lol


I dont know what puddles are for, really.
But I like to use them as reminders
that I have feet, I have freedom, and I have life.


Matter of fact, I want to go outside to do a puddle search right this minute!

All hail this once-married-woman!

My first husband was a funny one. He had some thiefing tendencies but I was too naive to have integrity. I accepted the things he stole for me and well, that ended eventually.

You want to point fingers at me? Sit in your little circle and discuss me? Must be "Lets fix MissThang day". Today, you have decided to incur all your time and energy on me... you have gathered to spend your time Talking, making major suggestions about what I should do to fix me! Ha!

What a joke!

I TOO was married!

Flashing your hardly-blinging-by-some-sot-of-force-ring, telling me what it is like to be committed to he...

Little do you know that you are no better than I am.

I TOO was married!

My second hubby (or may have been my first, was it?) didmt last that long for sake of wasting too much of my energy, I made a quick run for it. Didnt look back, didnt cry, didnt...nothing.

But you wanna tell me about marriage!

"TIME's A TICKING"
"FIND A GOOD MAN QUICK"
Wanna tell me all this shit 'bout biological clock bullshit!

YOU FOOL!

If only you knew that we all get married!
And unmarried, and remarried, and redo the whole process 10x over!

We've all BEEN married! Open your eyes and look around you!

We all have done it, its nothing major.
You want to carry it on your silly rusty pedastle, you fool!

I was married to he, he to me. We ended it.
THen to him and he to me, we ended it!
Even married her and her to me and that too, done.

We all been married. Its no big deal.

You see it all the time. 5 minute, 2 months, 4 year marriages.

Pfft! please!

I've beaten those.

I've loved and been loved for longer.
Short of having kids, signing papers, and rocking rings, they too were perfect marriages till they ended.
But isnt that what a marriage is these days?
A commitment till we decide to commit-no-more?
I too, have been married so dont tell me nothing.

She lost sanity, each time he touched her

The look on her face. Anger was not lonely there, . . . with it, stood understanding.
She didnt like my words, but she understood. Like a dog that barks to protect home, you hate the noise though you know what its for.

The look on her face. Then she said it again.

"Yes, I know he is my father. But I wish, she'd divorce him"

It all sounded strange to me. Sounded like a bittersweet feeling, without the sweet.
What would make a child want her parents parted?

She went on,
", though it would mean I would not have been born, I wish she had not married him."
And I almost responded to remind her that she would not have existed, but she didnt seem to mind.
She was a child. She spoke like a child.
I knew this. I felt the need to guide her thoughts. Help her understand; it doesnt matter what her position should be.
She should advocate and yearn for the unity of her parents, regardless how much of a bad husband he was to her mother.

"She has keloid marks on her back. Numerous, " halfway thorough tears, ", but the physical marks, are nothing compared to the emotional ones. Keloids can be covered. Her soul, cannot. You should see the way she speaks, though it is in anger, she sounds like she still wants him, "

Oh chile!

", such a strength in her sanity, but she lost sane each time he hurt her, I wish she was wdowed. He is my father, yeah I know. But she, is my mother."

I got it.

You know how they say that Jesus died for us all?
This child was willing to sacrifice it all. For one. She'd rather her mother was painfree and strong, than she had been born and her mother hurt.

I looked up to see her gaze on mine. She released her tears. No more words were spoken. I dared not attempt to convince her. Pity filled me, as she gently wiped her cheeks dry, forced a smile through red eyes, and walked out of the room.

I heard her flipflops flopping on her heels halfway down the hall,, she left me sitting there, to ponder it all.

Me, masculine.

I’d like to,
s*e*x the days out of you
Talk for hours, just to see where we’d stop
Test your boundaries,, where do you end?
What makes you quit? When do you halt?

Like a rainbow has no visible end, they say,
Pray tell me, you,
Mister, where lies your pot of gold?

Or is this it?
As I delve a little further
Talk about my forbidden stance on the natives and the slaves

And you read me, reread me
Or maybe you simply are me
In a masculine form
Or something.

You know how they say that the creator made two of each?
You just might be me, masculine.

And you read me, repeat what my mind was thinking,
Startled me as you said it
“Yeah but really, are the natives being reimbursed?”
And that started us off on something,
Off on some tangent
So much so that we forgot what we were saying
So much so that our words ceased,
We simply acted.

No one dared care about the natives
For a moment, the natives can wonder about themselves, can they not?
They can go beat drums and pow wow to the gods of their lands, say a prayer maybe; for the grass to grow.
And the slaves? Well, ye slaves passed, this is for you!
You wanted unity? Freedom was it? This is it; celebrated.

As our words made feelings
And feelings made touches
And you know what touches can do
As I do what I’d like to do
, s*e*x the days out of you.

But then there are weeks, months, years,
And eternity left in there,
We just cant seem to unravel this tangle well enough to get an absolute understanding
Curiosity kills the cat but we are no felines
So pray tell me you,
Mister, where lies our threshold?
What exactly, are we made of?
When I claw till I reach your core,
What, will I find?

Curiosity kills the cat they say;
But us? we are humans.
Curiosity, fuels this.
It IS why am here so pray tell, me-masculine;
what is the treasure that lies within your core?

Who is to say you'd be a loser too?

Birds of the same feathers they say,
But who is to say that you’d have a teeny weeny too?

Same rainbow, different day; I woudnt get so excited if I was you.
Dont you wonder why I stay far from the circle?
How on earth did you even manage to find me?
Shoo!

But hey!!! Who is to say you’d be a loser too?
You speak similar to he
Life, styled same as the person he claimed to be
And who is to say that I ever knew him?
Spoke so many lies, the truth became it.

I’d rather start with the breakup now before we startup
Start calling up your number NOW so you wont pick up
Checking up on my phone to see if you finally woke up
I’d grab a bag of Kleenex for the tears of
“WTF and to think that he wasn’t even hot to begin with!” but,
Hey! Who is to say you’d go missing too?

Black History

It is now.
This moment, this present time as I type this. Black history.

Is.

Me heading off to school or not... my grannie a bethroed child.
It is our black history. Grannie being a light skinned butcher & meat seller who gave birth to that child who later graduated and became a mother of 5 and jumped ship... for a better life for me. A dark skinned lanky me.
It is my grandfather loving for love and squashing boundaries for what is to be. It is black history he made, unbeknownst to him.

Black history is. Me.
Black history, is the movement away from everything I was, towards everything that is, and in some cases, stagnance.
Black history, is maintaining the status quo.
It is what that lady is doing rocking that weave and the other not... it just is us.
Black history, is love, and lack there of; for you and yours.
Black history, is that fist that you held up as another desires to blend in this melting pot.

"Why do we praise ourselves as blacks w it would only encourage segregation? Isnt segregation only going to darken the lines between us and promote ethnocentrism and hate?"
Black history are these questions.
Black history is everything.
It is the process of writting this, p

It is westernization. It is losing ourselves and rediscovering something else n the process. It is not knowing why we do the things we do and wondering what it is we will become when the damages are done. It is the anticipation., and hope for an end to change YET Black history IS change and whatever inspired the process.

Wondering and questioning things. Black history is the result of Nina Simone's songs' impacts on my soul as I listen to her sing...
"Sophisticated lady, I know... you miss the love you lost long ago, and when nobody is near, you cry".

Black history is the several numerous bits of diverged fights we fight... all in the name of self love.
The story of my people... from the ones unknown to Mrs Tubman and the ones that helped her get known.
The story tellers.
The story of my people. From the heros to the zeros and the significance of the zeros in helping to measure our heroes.

My people have lost alot. But see? Even that is black history.
Black history is me. And the path that was paved to make me.
It is every hit that was sustained, every lynch, every slave, every man that was not strong enough to make the trade and... it is every hate. It is every wrong judgement that man allowed to pass. It is segregation and unity.

Black history is knowing better, yet feeling lost to the system and living your life to be part of a process so that your offsprings can someday, maybe, hopefully live a little better so that their offsprings can finally eventually self actualize. Black history!
This moment. Me. My love for it and lack of it. Black history, is this.