Invisible

Just because you don’t see me

Doesn’t mean I’m not there

Just because my words fall on deaf ears

Does not mean that they were not spoken

Long Time No See + Randoms

It's been a long time...to finally get some random thoughts down and out to the world for a random person to see once again!   Thank you one of my random stalkers for informing me that it's been a while. (Love it! And I do have a poem to post.  In fact I have quite a few, but will post sparingly. Thanks for the kind words, Love.)

1.   My job isn't quite what I expected it to be.

2.  White socks with black pants and black flats are not a good look.

3. I'm too helpful sometimes....

4.  I really miss Mankato and all of my peeps!

5. When my roommates speak to me I see subtitles....

6. Is it safe for the whole house to rumble when a train goes by?

7.  Spiders are creepy!

8.  wow and whoa are two different words...know that!

9. I'm ignoring you for a reason

Fantasy

When I caress the crown of your head

I wonder what you could possibly be thinking about

In the instant that our bodies touch

When I look into your eyes

I wonder if you can see my promised soul like I can see yours

When I bury my face in the crevice of you neck 

To inhale your scent to be filled with the warmth and know of you

The sensation of familiarity feeds my very being to the brim

And beyond til it’s overflowing leaving a heady feeling behind

When my lips embrace yours

Do you feel that jolt of electricity

That rushes to our hearts when the thought

Of not touching becomes too unbearable

As our chests meet and our hearts synchronize

To the sweetest beat and melody ever played at heavens doors

 Our fingers interlaced like the end of shoe strings

Though they may become undone they are still one

Just waiting to be tied together once and for all

When I hold you in my arms

Unwilling to disentangle our limbs from one another

As we display a rare human embodied sculpture that

Leaves voyeurs guessing where

 I begin and where you end

And where I end and where you begin

I wonder if you wonder what I am thinking

When your nails rake up and down

Billowing hills that guard the valley

The gate keepers of my thighs

And you hold me in place by my waist

And all is lost

Time is only an abstract conceptualization

That means nothing in our throes passion and misplaced desires

That sacred key you hold

Ready to insert

A complicated combination

Of key and code

And barely heard murmurs

As you recite and stroke

The secret code

That only we know

Unlocking the treasures within the folds

Of our inner most thoughts, feelings, and intimacies

And the wind instruments within my orchestrated symphony

 Play a sultry tale of love gone good to bad and back to good again

Over and over again until the highest note

Hangs in the air

Vibrations shaking and quaking

Leaving all within the walls

Lost in an overwhelming and joyous

Sensation that leaves the bodies

Nestled in pure bliss wishing and praying

The song will never end

Releasing the last breath

Of appreciation and declaration

Of mistaken love for lust

Then it hits like a tsunami

When that last wave has run ashore

You will go back to your kingdom

Back to your queen and your prince

As I remain isolated on an island of one

Knowing what we have done cannot be undone

Wearing the scarlet letter with no heart on my sleeve

My bridge collapses leaving me adrift in a bed of regrets and shame

I let myself believe that the foundation though faulty could never break

I wonder, from the time you come to the time you gone,

Why didn’t you once utter my name?

Random Thoughts...

 These are some random thoughts for the day....


1.    Orange is a fun word...it's color and food.

2.    When men over 16 wear skinny jeans I cringe.

3.    It sucks when you write a and you end up having to erase everything you wrote just because of one misspelled or random inappropriate word you didn't mean to write gets in the way.  Then you have to make a judgement call to decided whether the person receiving the text is on the same wavelength and get what you really mean.

4.    People who wear socks with sandals....why would you do that!?!  Boo on you!

5.    International Television and Networks rock the socks off of American programming.

6.   Do people that write blogs actually read the comments that are left by its readers?  I'm going to test that theory in about 10 minutes after I update this page.

Humble

Don’t forget that

You can be man of god

But a man you must remain

Because god is god

You are only a man

Little known fact when I start my day I have to listen to music so that I can get into the swing of things. When creating my playlists I really think artistically about what the music compels me to do. Most of the time it’s dance, others it’s to write poems and stories. Create a Playlist. According to studies music can have a very profound impact on human beings. Music has been used as a way to communicate and bring people together. So this week recommend you create a playlist for the week and let it guide you into happy and good times alike.

As long as I have music I can start off both my day and week right: 

All Week Long:         Dee-1 The One   That Got Away

Sunday                       Busy Signal         Grab & Wine

Monday                      Alicia Keys           Unthinkable

Tuesday                      Xtreme                 Te Extrano

Wednesday                The Weeknd        What You Need

Thursday                    Miguel                  Quickie

Friday                         Kp & Envyi           Shorty Swing My Way

Saturday                     Son Dam Bi         Saturday Night

---

Before and after the Star Spangled Banner

Before and after the Star Spangled Banner

 by ME 

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed

It was on a day like this

Our mother was stolen, beaten and raped

In the face of her children

She was marked

She was hacked

And divided among

Criminals and murderers where the domestication

Of her children were underway

The first bouts of slavery

Were that of flesh and genocide

Soon to follow

Addiction, disease and greed

Her children cried her tears

Thunderous sobs went unheard

Obvious tears went disregarded

Weeping filled with blood and flesh

Were force fed into her open wounds

The lamentation of her song and words

Quaked in the hearts of her children

Only to by laughed at and eradicated from their minds

In the name of a expedition to spread the word in so-called faith in Christ

…at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,

Earth shattering cries were smothered

In the name of progress and in the name of “The good book”

Sloppy schemes of ways to separate the children from her protection and her teachings

Evil plots and plans put to death their living memories of her

The children lost their tongues

The children lost their way

The children had long forgotten the face of their mother

Only aware that they came from her

Barely aware of the what little traces remained of her presence

…O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

Only the oldest not necessarily the wisest of children were able to retain the words and pass them down

Often in remembering they were sentenced

To have their tongues were cut from their mouths

And their hearts burned from their eyes and lips

It all came down to black and white

Living or dying

Eating or drinking

Maintaining wisdom or surviving

There could be no conceptualization known as middle-ground

Or compromise

 

Children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, alike

Watched as the life of our mother was drained

While being gutted 
For reaching out to feel for her spirit

…And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Grotesquely

Maliciously

Brutally

Leisurely

Splendid indeed

…Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

It was that in the heart of the future generations that reaped

The rewards of karma’s malicious cycle

It would seem

Though we celebrate the establishment of what we now deem freedom

We come to see full circle the cultivation of this legacy

…Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

On a day like this how we forget

Our mother was stolen, beaten and raped

In the face of her children

She was marked

She was slashed

And she was divided among

Societal made criminals and murderers

The domestication of the people

That revel in forced sexual gratification and genocide

Soon to follow

Addiction diagnosed as an indirect correlation with accepting

Bouts of greed, bad choices, and wrong doing

Her children cried her tears through their flesh

While their freedom song was stifled

With money, guns, knives, and disease

This doomed establishment

Started long before rights were even make believe

What else would you expect when the founders

Of this oh so gratuitous land that was founded and inhabited by criminals and murderers

…O'er the land of the free

So why is it that we are so shocked to see so much of it in this day and age

You may have heard the old adage “What goes around comes around...”

Is it not befitting that the new world is left in the state in which it was found

As it draws near its end

…and the home of the...

Why Me

I have to ask

Why me

Why not the next pretty young thing

I never asked for you

I never wanted you

I never needed you

But it looks like I’m stuck with you

He Won't Go - Adele (Official 2011 Song)

Getting My Writing Groove Back

I am glad to report that I have finally gotten my writing groove back.  I feel good about a recent piece that I wrote today.  I submitted a piece on Chamber.  There was a Lyrics and Music Challenge issued by TheSouthernScribe.  The Challenge was basically putting together  a fiction piece surrounded around a song by Adele off of her amazing album 21. My song choice was  He Won't Go.    See the next entry so see the song I used.   Adele is Amazing!  Her music before mainstream is also too hot to hold! 

This was my first story written since my high school days. I'm somewhat happy with what I wrote.  It still reads in my eyes as a spoken word piece.  So I'm not sure how receptive others will be to it.  I think it's a challenging piece wrap your head around.  You have to read a lot between the lines to pull out the hidden messages.  I'm curious if others will see what I'm trying to say.

Oh well it's posted!  

I also wanted to take this opportunity to share my story with you as well. I hope you like it.

Home

Me

Feeling only the crisp chilled sheets instead of a warm body reminding me of the man I went to bed with.  He and I…we have a complicated love-hate relationship.  I love the man, but hate his work.  We have roles that we play in this metaphorical dance called love.  I give and he takes.  He gives and he takes back.  He doesn’t trust anyone…Even though he lies in my bed, eats the food that I create and  refuses to spend the money I  make and I refuse to spend the money he takes.

Everything about him that I love hurts me.   He hurts me.  But I just can’t stay away. 

I hear the shower running and wonder if he’s eaten.  Pulling on his t-shirt I make my way to the kitchen looking for evidence that he’s fulfilled. I see none.  

I have to admit that I love being in the kitchen.  Sometimes I think my love alone has set the women’s suffrage back by 150 years. I stand in the kitchen and envision exactly what masterpiece will fill the plates of those that will consume every delectable morsel placed in front of seeing eyes.  Creating food for thought, filling bellies, and weighing heavy on souls.

The food is a fusion of Dominican and Soul Food to ensure that we both carry a little bit of each other throughout the rest of the day.  Growing up I was taught that the stomach will always carry you home. 

When he enters the kitchen I can’t help but look at his pants barley hanging on to his narrow hips.  His shirt clinging to his tattooed arms.  Arms that all at once scream murder is what the streets made, I will die a King and I need you.   He’s wearing trademark colors of Los Reales.  I sometimes wonder if this will be the last time I will watch him in our home.  Will last night be the last time we were to feel that intimacy, belonging, wanting, and need with each other?  Will today be the last time that I will see his smile…

 A smile touches his lips as he focuses on the spread on our kitchen table.   My heart skips a beat when his soft lips kiss my forehead, my nose, my cheek, and finally find their home leaving a sloppy wet kiss on my lips.  My body becomes heated with the scent of his cologne that lingers in my nostrils imagining the night before. I don’t wish to break this illusion of happiness, but I must.  Reality is too consuming to stay in our self made fantasy held together by vocal silence.

“Baby, you have plans today?” I ask as he takes his seat next to mine.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Silence and tension that lingers in the room.

 It hurts. 

“Dominic, I love you. You don’t have to go out today.  Let’s stay in.  Let me show you how much I love you.” I plead knowing that today something hot and heavy is going to happen.

“I can’t. Not today…This food looks amazing.”  He takes a mouthful of food and inwardly groans as his pallet makes love to my creation, “Girl, you put you foot in it!”

I roll my eyes.  I almost want to scream “No you pendejo, it’s my heart.  How can you not taste it?”   

I exhale silently as the pain almost pulls tears from my eyes.

We eat in silence.  It’s a slicing stillness in our home that promotes tales of sorrow, aching hearts, and bloody tears.  But I have a role to play so that emotion is hidden and a smile is put on display.   

“Don’t go.” Those are the words that I want to say.

 I watch as he turns showing me his back before he departs our home.  The front door closes and the sound of the lock creating a barrier of disconnect resounds my now empty home. 

^*^

The love that we have we had to fight for.   We still fight for it.  It’s easier said than done From the start our backgrounds clashed.  His more than mine as Los Reales doesn’t take kindly to outsiders.  Outsiders that aren’t La Raza.  Outsiders who refuse to be sexed in then jumped in.  Outsiders that refuse willing agree to let the so called leaders use their bodies at whim.   We had to fight a good fight to be who we are together.  We still fight for it. His battle scars attest to that.  I love every one of them.  Those battle scars tell me what he never does. 

Today I know I have to call in reinforcements.

I invite friends over, or rather associates who understand the war that we are fighting. Associates who know the war on terrorism and in our hearts, right here on theses very streets that we call home.  Associates that know the feeling of losing soldiers all around us in the name of drugs, territory, and power.  We all sit at the table playing cards and subconsciously playing who will get the first call from either the hospital or county. 

Channel 12 is on just in case some breaking news is released concerning our street soldiers. 

The silence is deafening.   Tension is thick.  Though, smoke fills the room it is ice cold. We are suffocating each member of our local tribe holding their breath. 

Then all is broken.

The first sound of ringing breaks us from our games.   A panicked look over takes one of my kinfolk staring dismayed at her phone.  The first words spoken are “Que fue?”  It’s the question we have all been wondering since deployment.  Upon answering a string of disconnected Spanglish fills the room competing with the television.  All variations of words spoken barely make it to comprehension words spoken clash with Puerto Rican,  Mexican, Colombian, Dominican, and English.

I imagine blood covered soldiers starting to fill the streets, walking calmly to safe houses dropping off evidence in concealed places to be picked up by the sweep team. 

It all happens in a blur.  My comrades leave one by one.  The television is still on with long since reporting of a “drug bust” that brought down a handful of Los Reales dead and alive.  

I am glued to my spot at the kitchen table.  I feel as though if I move I might miss something.  My home feels empty and still. My body convulses with tears that won’t shed.  By body feels cold and lifeless.  The food fights within my stomach refusing to let me forget this morning and the fusion of the night prior.

I have no doubt that my man will not be dumb enough to call me with updates.  I only expect a call from county. 

 It never comes.

The door knob jiggles.

My heart catches in my throat.

I wait.

I hold my breath.

The door opens and closes quickly as a body slumps down leaning on said door clutching his stomach.

I exhale.

“I’m home.”