NEW POETRY

I have to kick the habit of not writing down my thoughts...

so I pulled the trigger.
I could feel bladed grass pressed against my face
pulling my skins
forcing me to dirt
telling me to stay low so that I could hear the earth echo into a thousand years before I was here, before I knew there was grass, before I knew.
So I clenched my hands and pulled it from it's roots,
bent my knees and stood to my feet.
I couldn't give it the honor of taking me.

realization!!!

i had a very looooooong conversation with a close friend of mine about being natural and she brought me to a realization that I would have never discovered myself. I have been fighting this fight with myself about keeping my hair natural four about 3 years now. Each time I struggle with my hair I blow it out and set it in curls. I look at pictures of my sisters who have mixed curly hair and I wish I had that. blowing out my hair, trying to imitate another form of natural that is more "mixed" and acceptable is not accepting who I am. MY tight curls will never be like their's... and that is where I have hated myself.

What african american women are now challenged with is the battle against "good natural hair", some of us have gotten over the straight/permed hair but not the curly natural. The more I try to mold and shape my hair into a curly fro with product the more I realize that I am trying to be something I am not. Our society is still telling us that thick un-mixed hair is unacceptable. Becoming natural then getting a texturizer or using gel to hold a curl or blowing out to partial straighten is still self hatred to many of us as we create something we are not. I wonder if i can ever get past it....

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"the truth will set you free. but first, it will piss you off."
-Gloria Steinem writer and activist

taking time to change

I'm going to take a new approach to this blog thing by just posting my rambling thoughts, instead of strictly poetry.... sooo here I go:

I realized that my hair is rather interesting looking (lol). I took a couple of minutes to flip through all of my facebook profile pictures and noticed that i have never looked consistent. I know many that would find this inconsistency foolish but I think it makes me... me. How many of us can really say that they honestly don't look like someone else??? I know that I can! I'm going to take pride in that.

I always encounter people that ask me why I went natural. At first I used to tell them that it was the only way my hair would grow. Then I used to say its only temporary and I would be getting a perm soon. Up until now I don't think I have ever answered that question correctly. So here's the real answer:

I have been natural and will always be natural because it is who I am. Not to say that my hair defines me, because it does not by any means define who I am. My hair is a part of me and it is real. This is who I am. Know that when you stand in front of me you will never have to guess what I really look like.

here's some of my hair pics, I will add more later

'girl boom'

looks like shes got girl
boom in her face, heavy breaths,
shouts, blank metaphors.

'untitled'

got a thought
itching like peeled paint
chips
cracked like pardoned doors
scratching a harder way out
skinned
scabbed
black, cracked like pardoned doors

time to catch up

Sooo... i have been slacking lately but i think i am going to force myself to catch up. Im just going to write randomly(hopefully this works)


'wilted'

hands over hairs on backs,
wrists cutting dried, leaves
skin wrapped around finger cracks

'take it.'

CUT HERE
----------
let me stencil with marks permanent,
perforate the edge of my ribs,
dip my scissors into flame.

let you induce pyro-listic visions of
warming a cold
heart,

fold back skin
dig it out then hold
it low,
so that I won't see

or faint before
falling
for you.

the lost children (unfinished)

Plans of a child soon shape old
as mother gave life to bold twins
irrationally joined at the
chest, head and hip.
Cursed with southern blood,
one had half the heart
the other half the brain
neither could be tamed
nor decide who was the accident.
Four legs and four arms
violently kicked and stabbed
and stabbed and kicked,
at each other they aimed
but themselves they hit.

They always fall short of a blessing
even with a church on every
crazed corner side, please pray
for the numbered children
they jealously shot short of mass
murder, grasp further
into a pride that divides
them-coincides them into
sibling rivalry,
cut them off with
a red-line, train
them to throw names then
induce fames to streets of
high and low range then
tack a sign on their
back: "lost".

so that their sisters will
see southern struggle beyond
their own trouble.

though this sign won't be enough to find
the heat of the twins identical, their egotistical
heads will bring a constant fight, their thirst
will see droughts at night, their bond
will allow no sight past peripheral,
a failing cycle reciprocal.

anthony (tipped)

{collab with tyler anew marie}

lost like words on tongues,

tipped. he's gone

more than his thoughts could rip
mouth could sip,
muttering words
on his jaws they dripped,
teeth he chipped trying to take the last sip

tipped. off your love

he's faded
syllables jaded with every swallow,
soon to follow a stumble so serenely placed
between the intoxicatingly clear idea
of your face,
faced with his face on the floor:
lips bent, drunken
intentions meant

tipped. and sore

painfully seeking
violently reaching for you and your
presence your comfort your essence
no longer his to hold
truths unfold, lies once told
are cold and sold
auctioned off to the masses
intertwine, no more
only emotional clashes

faded. and broken

breaking every inch of you not worth taking
shook and shaking whats
left, uncovering your skins
unmasking your breaths,
stealing whats left
until he's left
with the thought of you
unwind, no more
only emotional flashes

faded. and fading

into the silhouette
of dark as love crept
out of the hearts and into the hands
of the man that demands to be loved
seeking the approval of
those who gripped
and were ripped
from the arms of their better halves
snip, cut the chord

tipped. overboard