Your eyes catch my heart

You kiss my smooth honey brown

My soul melts within

Whew

Lips pressed to Hershey's skin
almost sin-----ful
but i ain't listening
cuz what i'm feeling
is bliss-----ful

wait

i utter between nibbles and bites
trying to gather myself before i ignite

wait

He questions, but surely knowing that i don't know what i'm saying

yes

i whisper, while exhaling, body speaking, dayum near yelling

yes

he replies sweetly, manly, strong

yes

i manage between moans

yes

a gentle rock sends us to heaven

yes, yes, yes

i quiver...resting

savoring

tasting

loving

this man

Merry Merry, Happy Happy...

Just want to say, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Mele Kelikimaka, Feliz Navidad, Happy Hannukah, Happy Holidays and a Joyous New Year to everyone...

Wishing everyone, LOVE, PEACE and BLESSINGS, did I say LOVE...

angelia

Happy Holiday 2 All

We wish you ALL a Holiday filled with Real Love, Great Stories, Poetic Moments & Lots of Music!

click on image for source.

Love

I make my home in the depths of sorrow.

There, at the end of the hall is an open doorway,
beckoning me to run out into the cool sunshiny breeze
to smell the fresh grass and commune with the puffy clouds.
But here I stand, flat footed and immobilized
like a poor pooch chained to a burning building…
unable to move forward, but free to move back.
My shackles, chains and key less bonds are internal…and they hold fast.

I strain in vain.

It’s so dark in here.

Down the opposite hall are raging storms
birthed by angry and overbearing black cumulonimbus dread,
spitting torrents of recycled ancient acid.
They bring with them deafening Father thunder
who rages
as he announces the soul splitting actions of Mother lightning,
illuminating just enough to glimpse the horror left wherever she strikes.

Steaming stench.
Putrid decay.
Hot death.

Every now and then the sun burns through, giving false hopes that I can stay
here,
inside,
and grow my own forest,
in peace.

But only storms live in this place…
down that hall.

Every time I chase the sun back down
that hall,
the first family of destruction and despair come back…
even stronger than before…
and get between me
and the door.

Burning me.
Tearing me.
Reaching into me
and pillaging me.

Hope has become
false hope has become
no hope has become
prison,

the worse prison of all,
the one you can leave

but won’t.



Psa 30:5


©SojournerG 2007 All rights reserved

Good Morning

1,2,3,4,5

He smiled
Remembering
Sweet almond oil
Anointed her body
After a fresh shower
Amber musk woven
Into the tapestry
In all scents
Naturally associated with her

6,7, 8, 9, 10

Chocolate tips mounds
Honey colored skin
He sighed
Etching in his mind
His lips meeting
Every inch of her skin
Exhalations from her
As he treated her
To a delicious ride
On the edge of explosion

11, 12, 13, 14…

He got caught in the wave
Him entering her
In and out
Out and in
His endowment
Cocooned in her sugar walls
Sweating mixing
Skin meeting
Not knowing where
They began or ended
The last thrust took them
Over to the clouds of heaven

15-30

He forgot
Where he was
"Mister, Isn’t this your floor"
"Huh?"
"You pushed the elevator
For the 33^rd floor"
"Oh" he laughed
Regaining his composure
Hoping his internal thoughts
Did not portray
Him in the southern area

Whew!
He stepped off
Right before the doors
Closed
Wishing
He was back at home
In his kingdom
Where his queen
Gave him a wonderful
Good morning

©Shai Lynn K. Davis

Prey

Stalking your shadow.

Dogging your footsteps.

How long will it take

for you to slow your pace just enough for capture?

Grains of broken glass in every sip
i take across from no one, and not you.
Each kiss against lips not yours
strips skin from flesh until
a blazing heart is exposed and bleeding through a barbed wire reality.

When you rise so too does the day.

And when you rest the night is upon all.

How many rotations before, dizzy and stricken,

the pull of you is too great

and there is a great and mythic tragedy to recount?

Mary J

Touch

You touched me
Not with your hands
But with your mind
You dug deep
Penetrating the core of me
Peeling away layers of pain, hope
Exposing, exploring, yet somewhat enjoying…me
You touched me
Not with your lips
And yet, your kiss I will forever remember…and forever miss
You touched me
You breathe life into a new me
My soul aches for
One more moment
One more glance into you
Because when I see, hear…you
I see, hear, feel…me
And I remember again
How you touched me.

After The "Love"

So there we sat on the edge of the bed...
afterwards...
on opposite sides.

She was looking at the wall. I was looking at the sink.

I kept wanting to be concerned about what was going through her mind, but everything in my upbringing screamed so loudly in my ear.

"What have you done?!"
"Boy you in trouble now!"
"Ima ttttteeellllllll!"
"You gonna git it!"

Why was I back in my childhood?

But through all of this,



God was silent.



I knew what I was doing. I turned heaven's volume down. Who am I kidding? I put Jesus on mute.

"I put Jesus on mute," I think I said aloud.

She was lost in her own thoughts.

I tried to think about the fleshly pleasures so recently experienced, but the three man gang of Grief, Guilt and Fear, leaned on me like the oppressing heat of the Saharan sun.



Grief reminded me that I was not who I thought I was nor who I claimed to be. He caused me to mourn the loss of my character and integrity. Said he talked to God and that He was hurt. I knew Grief was lying...and telling the truth. He convinced me that I no longer deserved life so I gave my joy to him.



Guilt went to work on my heart, causing it to thud sickly in my chest. "You're always telling other people how to live their lives, always giving advice on how to straighten up and fly right. Now you're just like the rest. Hypocrite!" The word stung like a slap in the face with a cold hand. He stabbed my mind with the knife of unworthiness, the ice pick of unrighteousness, and dug into my anemic heart with the dull jagged spoon of uncleaness. He convinced me that I was no longer worthy so I gave my confidence to him.



Fear said nothing at all, but settled in my stomach like a hot metallic ball of grease that would not allow itself to be vomited out...but made me wretch over and over. He fed the thoughts of panic about discovery and started a forest fire of humiliation and embarassment. My whole body trembled at the thought of what could be... because of what was. Without lifting my eyes, I reached deep inwardly and placed my security into his hands.

And there I sat as they circled around me, whispering to me, taunting me, assuring me that they were going nowhere.

Still there I sat, ready to be poured out onto the floor.
No form.
No substance.
No more.

Then the phone rang.

Out of habit, I picked it up, connected the call and said,

"H'lo?"

"Hi Honey! Dinner will be ready when you get home and don't forget you're taking the kids to bible study tonight, 'kay?"

"O'kay"

James 1:14, 15

©SojournerG 2007 All rights reserved

King Me

I reason the possibility of wrong
Wrestling against its force

Unbind my mind
Put me back on course

Pray for strength against demons that lay force to my door
No, not interested…“your kegel’s tight?”…Hmm…tell me more.

Patiently they wait for me to fall into a deep lull
Taunting, teasing, offering – “I got that popping skull.”

You won’t know what hit you
Sample the album for a minute
Never long play, the harmony long gone

Left to pick up the pieces
Ashes remain
Deflowered
Destroyed
Dethroned

In need of the King.

For those living in the struggle...

black or white
no justice no peace
my soul bleeds

The Fusion of Souls

I did not want to want you

With efforts so strong, so obvious

I fought, avoided you fiercely

Who knew

You would slowly penetrate

A barrier, a shield

I surrounded myself with

Gradually like petal falling from a flower

Something between us began to happen

Talking, laughing, playing

Layers we insulated our souls with fell

We began to see each other in a whole different light

Along the way there was always resistance

We were both apprehensive

The mystery of why were being pulled together

By forces invisible, yet strong with a tangible presence

The masks began to slide from our faces

The clarity became sharp and clear

We could see into each other’s souls

We both sensed the pain we each suffered

Understandings developed

Then the journey of our souls began

Our souls caressed

Mentally, emotionally, we became connected

Intense feelings that could not be contained were released

Confused, reluctant, we ventured into a domain

We both had closed ourselves off from for so long

Boundaries were crossed

The freedom of flight lifted us

Physically, we joined

Going to heights, approaching edges

We knew would be risky

And we held each other through turbulence

Letting our souls touch, enmesh

In those of moments of ecstasy

Our souls began to fuse

©Shai Lynn Kai Davis

ANOTHER ONE

Volumes cover it
The big bang, the cosmic wheel spinning
Scientists, the holy, scholars, artists
Shakespeare, Marley, Lennon, Vandross
Touching melodies fail to harmonize it
Synthesize it

In agony, misunderstanding, hate
The difficulty of wording through tears
Defining through ache

In it is the thundering, uproarious clatter pitting man vs. man, woman vs. woman
Passion, bliss, ecstasy, lust, desire
Electrons forever attracted to a nucleus they will never enter

It binds, bewilders, destroys, delivers us all
It is life’s sediments
Compressed under it’s pressure

It is the basic grain in us all

Maybe we’ve failed to understand it because we have made it too hard

I heard someone on the radio say:
“To live is to be loved, try not to hurt anyone and hope to fall in love”

I’m not oblivious
I need life’s unanswerable mystery
Our unresolved cause for existence
Our never-ending trek to happiness
Our promise
Our legacy

I Refuse

I take pride in being me
Expecting me to fold until I can't be seen
Always follow while you lead
That's not me
I refuse to become unseen....

St. Louis!

Another Day

Today was a beautiful day:
The sun shone so bright
Birds sang in the light
The jams on the radio were tight
Me and ol' girl didn't fight
I asked for a raise, boss said he might
Traffic wasn't too bad, it was aiight
Made it back to the crib before it was night
She was in her negligee, what a sight
Will sleep well tonight
Sho nuff feelin' right.

Today was a horrible day:
He hit me, he hit me again today
Don't seem to be able to stay out of his way
Kids saw the black eye, sent them out to play
I've run out of excuses; things to say
Why am I still here, now for the 9th May?
Don't think I can stand it for another day
I want to get out, I just need a way
Here he comes again, "Father help me" I pray

Today was an interesting day:
Headed to the spot in a gansta lean
Brim down, collar up, tryna look mean
Ready to spit when I make it to the scene
Grab the mic, pull it down start to blow out steam
The crowd starts to sway, I'm on the mic like a fiend
I paused to take a breath and I heard a girl scream
Was gonna rip my shirt but I was lookin too clean
A voice said, "Get to work and stop playin', GENE"
Damn, day dreamin' at the copy machine

Today was a jacked up day:
I was on the run, just hit up that bank
Cops chasin' me down, and weren't shootin' blanks
Made it to the sewer it was cold and dank
Rats everywhere and what is that stank?
Almost drowned if it wudn't for that plank
Floated me down, dropped me off in the river near the bank
Made it free and clear, didn't care I smelled rank
Saw the gun in my face and my hard heart sank
Now here I sit in a 6 x 6 tank
Contemplatin' my future, what you thank?

Today was an emotional day:
'Round 1:30 AM, brought a change to my world
I just witnessed the birth of my first little girl
Skin so perfect, hair all in a curl
Mixed emotions crashed in on me, put my mind in a whirl
What will the future hold for my little Pearl?
The endless possibilities enough to make me hurl
The site of all that blood enough to make my toes curl
But I chilled, maintained, let my thoughts unfurl
Mom didn't survive delivery...what will we do Pearl?

Days come
Days go

All things are possible through Him:
Joy
Deliverance
Blessings
Forgiveness
Comfort

As long as there is
Another Day


Psa 118:24

©SojournerG 2007 All rights reserved

We Wish You Safe Travels This Holiday Season.

We are thankful for the warmth and enthusiasm of our contributors and those who take the time to leave comments this holiday season. While you are enjoying gatherings of family and friends we hope you will think of us for just a bit. What is a gathering without music?

You may have discerned by our music selection that we came of age along with Hip Hop. Now, we are asking you to suggest music that inspired you as you were "coming into your own." Thank You!

Be Well!

*click image for source

DELIVERANCE

The Mountains--Daybreak
With friends
The River inviting
Swapping stories at the get together time

The Raft will be
A leaf sometimes
A leak sometimes
A stone sometimes
An unfortunate cell sometimes
A friend

The River will be
A course sometimes
A stake sometimes
A meal sometimes
Shelter from the rain sometimes
A friend

The Delta--Dusk
Muddied and weary
The River conquered

The mountains will be mountains
The raft will be raft
The River will be river

Friends will always be
deliverance

Always


(In this season of THANKS, give time to friends.)

glistening and shining
is this gift worth my life...
all gleaming and sparkling 'round your pretty little neck

Thanksgiving Comes First

As a child growing up in the Hyde Park section of Boston I used to look forward to our "Holiday Bazaar" held each year in the auditorium of my school. I attended Joesph P. Kennedy Jr. Memorial School, a catholic school complete with uniforms, a chapel and of course, tough as nails, nuns. The bazaar was the first indication that Christmas was somewhere in the near future. The bazaar would have tons of arts and crafts for sale, most with a Christmas theme. There would be holiday wreaths, candles and tree ornaments for sale along with cookies, cakes and pies. There were games of chance such as a roulette wheel and a game wherein you pulled a lollipop from a Styrofoam base and if you had a green tip on it you won a prize such as a football, baseball or a toy car. If you didn't get a green tip, you got the lollipop, which was the real reason why you plopped down your quarter. The women manning the booths at the bazaar would all be wearing Santa's Hats, elf caps or holiday earrings. The bazaar was held the second weekend in November, so the memory of Halloween had faded and the anticipation of Turkey and cranberry sauce was simmering. The bazaar at my school and other holiday bazaars held in various parishes, schools and local men's clubs were usually the first time people put any thought into Christmas since the preceding year when they brought their dying, dried out trees to the curbside. It was when the browns and oranges of fall were starting to be replaced by the greens and reds of the impending Christmas season.

Christmas in the Catholic church is celebrated in the four weeks preceeding Christmas
in the season known as Advent. There is an Advent Wreath that is presented in the front of the church next to the alter, which has three purple candles and one rose colored candle surrounding a white candle nestled around the wreath. During each Sunday a new candle is lit to remind us of the coming of the birth of Christ and the white candle is lit on Christmas day. Our nuns reminded us of this fact each day in class. Although we got a glimpse of the "big" holiday to come at the bazaar, we all knew there would be no acknowledgement in school or church of the start of the Christmas season until the first Advent candle was lit the first Sunday after Thanksgiving.

I took piano lessons for a number of years after school. I would start practicing Christmas carols when the windows were still open and a warm breeze blowing across the keyboard, so I would know the songs in time for our Christmas recital. The parents who donated crafts to the bazaar would start knitting scarfs and sweaters at Labor Day cookouts. My mother would shop for bargains when she had the money or found a particularly good bargain as early as June. Christmas preparations were always in the works, but behind the scenes and without fanfare.

30 years after I last set foot in my old school things have changed. Christmas has been commercialized to the point of having year round stores with Christmas themes, year round Christmas music channels on cable TV, Christmas displays set up before Halloween and Christmas commercials starting the first of November. In this world of immediate gratification anticipation is an emotion that has fallen by the wayside.

The holiday bazaar, cherry pickers putting up Christmas lights in the town square the day after Thanksgiving and Santa at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade where all signs that the Christmas season was near. The lighting of the Advent wreath let me know the Christmas season was here. What are the signs now? Macy's Pre Pre-Chrismas sale, in October? Buy one get one Christmas CD's at Wal-Mart, in October? Home Depot's sale on artificial trees, in October? The Christmas season has lost its mystique and charm in the quest for the almighty dollar.

My cousin Jimmy's (aka: Sul-Dog) favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. I have to agree with him to an extent. I love the unconditional aspect of Thanksgiving. You prepare a tremendous spread, spend time with friends and family, watch hours of parades and football and give thanks for all you have. There are no expectations beyond that. But, I still love Christmas. I love the lights. I love the decorations. I love the traditions. My wish is that we stop diluting the holiday by starting Christmas in October. One of my favorite stories growing up was a story called "Christmas Every Day". In that story a boy gets his wish of having Christmas every day and soon realizes that it loses its appeal when there are Christmas Carols in July and gifts all the time. Its a lesson I wish corporate America would learn.

I love Thanksgiving, but Christmas is still my favorite holiday. I just wish everyone would remember that Thanksgiving comes first.

(Please visit my cousin's spot (click here)to see the inspiration for this post.)

Love Suite I: New Love

I want I want I want NEW LOVE, still fresh and vacuum packed in it's wrapper love. I want the anticipation of grabbing the tab, pulling off the bow, unwrapping my new love like a child with birthday dreams.

I wanna gush and grin at the prospect of having it new, having it first, having it only. Yeah big boy toy, new car smell, flat screen high def goodness with kickin' surround sound, dual overhead cams of love, twin turbo thrust that torques me out of my mind, standin' there, layin' there with "aww shucks hyuck."

When she arrives and we start to vibe, listen: I want that crackish love. That love that has me talking about everynothing on the phone til 3:30 AM when I know I got ta get up at 4:30 AM. And when I do get up if I ever get down, I ain't even tired because it's that Red Bull love that she be providin', that Pimp Juice, Rock Star, Jolt, Monster love.

Floatin' through my day wishin' I was lovin' her for pay, wantin' it to be my job I say. Not just my legs but my breath comes in pants and it is rationed at levels inversely proportioned to her...exhales. This love, this breath-less-ness, calls the heart aside and says, "beat like this", it's all heavy and slowquick African tempo with it's comforting annoyance broadcasting from it's northward residence in my throat whenever I think of her, this brand new love. And when I do settle down at night it's her love, this love that is keepin' me awake, robbing me of my chance to dream of her, weave mental futures with her, until the vision of her, the fantasy of her, the essence of her hypnotizes my psyche, bringin my heart into normal sinus rhythm, yeah V-Tach, sound track to my fantareality of...us.


I want us to laugh and talk about the effects of this love, for her to say, "I know your joint but let me tell ya 'bout MY story of love. I'm agonizing over my choice of scent of the day, will it be work or will it be play? I more than usual care about the color I wear wanting to brand your brain with this vision of love. It trips my mind to come to realize that your touches cause giggles, your kisses cause wiggles and your skills cause jiggles. New love, new love, you got ooh, ooh, ooh, OOH love, and I ain't even shame Luv. Because an emotional vacay from this world and this life is what I want with you Love, where cherubs sing, trees bend to give shade and waves lap lovingly at our sand encrusted feet. Heart shaped clouds and tropical breezes fill this bubble that shuts out the universe and locks in the...love, new love, I have for you NEW LOVE."

Yeah that's what I want, mmmm that's what I crave. Can it be a thang between me and you girl?



1 Cor 13:13

©SojournerG 2007 All rights reserved

Interitance

Granny whacked mommy with a tamarind switch
Bled her to womanhood ‘fore nature’s course
Mama smacked sis with a bamboo stick
Dots and dashes more controlled the Morse

Sis got a tot out of wedlock
Cutest little kid
What you think sis did?

My little niece fell ill last week
Bed-ridden, near gone
Doc says was something in her head

Three generations of silence
Not a whole lot said
But so much passed on


bygpowis

Making Peace with the Blood Within Me

Thanks Grampa....and Gramma

I never met you
but all of your bloods flow through my veins.

One Black
One White
Hear tell it, somebody in our line was even Asian...
and probably Native American.

What was it like to fall in love with someone
who didn't look like you, smell like you...
and probably didn't taste like anyone you'd ever put your lips on?

I don't know why you did what you did,
I don't know how you endured all that you endured...
so, I can only ... thank you.

I thank the Heavens for you.

In this world where I find myself now -
I want to ... "pick sides"
I want to ... herald my Blackness for all the pain that was endured.
I want to ... detest my non-Blackness for all that was "put upon us"...
All the bigotry and ignorance that my "Black-side" was subjected to.
Because, according to the laws of yesteryear one drop was all it took to make a baby "Black".

Still...I thank the Heavens for you.

In this world where I find myself now -
I don't need to..."pick sides".
"Sides" are "picked" for me.

Nevertheless, you still joined together
And the result was the birth of several beautiful babies
...including me.

Gramma and Grampa, I wish you could see
All that we have grown to be.

Yea, f$%k ups happen now and again.
But, generally...I'm glad to BE
the Black woman who resulted from
Your copulation
So that I can
...be...
...ME....

...thank you...

C.A. Paige©November 2007

*This fits no poetry "form" that I know of- it flowed as it did from God thru my fingers to this computer -- so here u have it....enjoy...or not...but, it's out of me;-).

He said

He said…


I love you
I say I love you too!
My first love
My Boo!
He breaks my heart in two.

He said…

I do.
I say forever.
He said forever ever
Then he chooses another lover.

He said…

You’re cute
You’re sweet
You make my heart skip a beat
I want to make love to you
Make you my wife
Make you my lover for the rest of my life
Have you as a friend
Someone whom I can depend
My one and only…till the end


He screwed me.
Played me.
Hurt me.
Slayed me.
Toyed with me.
Tried to destroy me…

He said…

I was meant for you…
Feeding my fantasy…thru and thru
Wanted to love me unconditionally
I fought with all my heart
To remain stagnant and apart
But then I let him in
To places where no one has ever been
I gave
Plans were made
While emotions ran high…
Then… he said…goodbye

He says a lot of ish! But the funny thing is….I’m still listening.

Taste

I wanted to be loved

So I walked with a sway in my step

Talked with a roll in my neck and a wag to my finger

He nodded

and the back of his head said

"Be who you are Sis, even if she ain’t me Sis".

I wanted to be loved

So I articulated with staccato beats

Enunciated within an inch of my death

He nodded

and his eyes moved swiftly past me

"Be who you are Miss, but my interests you miss, Miss".

I wanted to be loved

So I dressed myself to the tens

I strutted like a runway panther

He nodded

and his hands reached beyond me

"I Check your look love, but look elsewhere for love, Love".

I wanted to be loved

So I dressed for a righteous search

I spoke warmly and with passion

I walked with a confidence I didn’t know was mine

He nodded

and sent his palms to my hips and his lips to my lips

"I thirst like you thirst and you are my last first".

I am loved, Love.

P...S...A

They call you American Gangster
The Kingpin of Kings
Living big and riding high
Living off of the drugged zombies and corpses you have created
Teaching the community to worship greed
Crooked cops and citizens alike...
Tell me, please tell me

Where is your soul?

On Behalf of the Pretty Sistahs

Pretty Real

C'mere!
Don't be skurred.
Don't make excuses.
Forget what you were taught about pretty women.
We. Are. Human.
Gigolos ain't the only ones who "get lonely too".
What? You say Pretty Women have it too easy?
Have you asked one how her day was and then really waited for the answer?
Did she snap at you? Are you sure?
Did she hear you correctly? Did you hear her correctly?
Did you approach her with animosity? Curiousity?
Did you drop the "lines" and simply ask her - "Hey Sis, How you doin' today?"
Hmm, she still snapped? Well, then maybe she had a bad day.
Maybe she's just tired of being held to standards that are unreasonable.
Maybe she just wants to be a sistah who is:
Admired for who She Is
Without being touched without her permission or judged.
Or told that "She thinks she's cute." or "She ain't all that anyway."
She just wants to be loved by her man, a Strong Black man who accepts her as she is.
She just wants a Strong Black man who accepts her and won't toss her aside if she dares reveal less than perfect attributes.

Or...maybe that's just me.

C.A. Paige©April 2007

Deja-Vu

his words:
want, wish, wonder,
make me remember
a familiar road:
landmarks and
guaranteed rest stops

I travel
with my eyes closed
each curve
each turn
moves me toward
an exit that I've already taken

Invitation acceptances

We appreciate each of you who submitted such creative pieces at such short notice. We continue to be amazed and surprised by the "delights" that we have discovered through this blogging project.

Below are the bloggers and the titles of their pieces which fit into the theme of Love and Redemption to be included in our upcoming publication as indicated in the original invitation:

Mr. Ash - a piece entitled AmaSong.
Mr. Jones - a piece entitled Pray Black.
Ms. McCrary - a piece entitled Love.
Ms.Tery - an untitled piece.
Mr. Smith - a piece entitled Worlds Apart.


*click image for its source.

personally

sweep around your own front door
do not try to sweep around mines
do not be worried about my actions
or whatever consequences YOU have in mind
simply hope that YOU are right
or beg that man for mercy
YOU are not going to Hell for my sins
I have to see him personally

Price Tags

PASS U BUY

written by

Son of Wisdom



forty years gone
just like that

thought i had time
to get on track

looking for the right time
to shine

it never comes

grab the bull by the horns
for the ride or die

standers on the sideline
just get to wave, shake hands or say hi

want in the game
get in the game

time out for excuses

conspiracy theories

and the like

faith is now

never one day

thinking long

thinking wrong

keep on thinking

and it will cost you

to watch

opportunities

pass

u

bye

I Was Born A Poor Black Child

Today if you drove through the neighborhood I grew up in you would think that I was born a poor black child. Unlike Navin Johnson (Steve Martin's character in his timeless, comic masterpiece "The Jerk") I knew I was white. You couldn't help knowing you were white growing up in the Hyde Park section of Boston in the 60's and 70's. Two words: Forced Busing.

Not only did you know you were white, you knew you were Irish. Every kid in my neighborhood had an Irish surname, Burke, Whelan, Brady, Hurley, Norton, McGonagle, Flynn, Galvin...Costa (we had one Italian kid nicknamed "the mini-guinea"; as the name implies he was a short guinea). We had one black family and one Hispanic family in "the projects". The Fairmount Development was the whitest of the projects in Boston with maybe the exception of those in Southie. Family lore is that my dad's Uncle Jimmy, who had been a Mass. State Rep. pulled some strings to get my mother and father in there soon after I was born. It had the reputation as being one of the cleanest and nicest developments in the city. It borders Milton on one side, so there was this feeling that we were almost in the Suburbs. This proximity to people owning their own houses and cars that weren't two-toned and rusting gave many of those growing up there a sense that the projects weren't the end of the road. It gave others the ample opportunity to hone their skills as car thieves and burglars.

We were the poorest of the poor families living in the projects. My father left when I was seven, after impregnating my mother six times, once with twins, in seven years. After my brother Derek died (two months old) and my father left, my Aunt Rosie moved in to our two bedroom apartment raising the tally to two adult women, three boys and two girls in about 800 square feet. We were the U.S. version of "Angela's Ashes" poverty, dead babies, tea and cigarettes.

My mother, god rest her soul, somehow found a way to send me and my brother Mark to Catholic School which was great for our education, but horrific for our self-esteem. Being the early 70's busing was a boon for the Catholic schools . The parents that did not want to move to the suburbs to avoid having their kids bussed from Hyde Park to Roxbury or elsewhere sent their kids to Catholic Schools. These kids weren't the lower middle-class kids that populated the Catholic schools when my mother went to Mission Grammar School or Mission High School in the 50's and 60's. These were upper middle-class kids who had no problem reminding my brother and I on a daily basis how poor we were either directly by pointing out that our school blazers were not bought at through the school store(Bradlees specials) or bragging about their trips to Florida or Bermuda on school vacation. We had one black girl in our school, a few grades ahead of me, but we were the white equivalent: living in the projects, on welfare with chips on our shoulders.

We moved to Northampton, Massachusetts in February of 1977, but we might have well moved to the moon. You could not find anywhere in the Commonwealth more different than Hyde Park as Northampton. The nickname for the greater Northampton area is "The Happy Valley"; the area is known for its large lesbian community, it's colleges and tolerance. We moved into the projects, but unlike the projects in Boston these were privately owned subsidized apartments called "Hampton Gardens". There were no gardens in sight, but things were a lot rosier. For one we weren't the poorest family in the place (that title could be shared by a number of Puerto Rican families, whose extended families overflowed even the spacious four bedroom apartments). My Aunt stayed in Boston, so we now had four bedrooms for six of us. Another plus is I didn't get in my first fist fight for a week. Living in Hyde Park, two days didn't go by without someone punching me in the head or me punching someone in the head. That was refreshing. There was one huge change, Desegregation. What Judge Garrity couldn't do in Boston, my mother did with a 100 mile move due west. Hampton Gardens was a melting pot. Blacks, Puerto Ricans, Whites, Cats, Dogs living together....in relative harmony. There was one scary moment the second day living there when four Puerto Rican kids ambushed me and my brother with snowballs (I was amazed how good they were at making and throwing snowballs being from such a hot climate), but it wasn't driven by a hatred for whitey; we were the new guys and needed to be initiated.

I had never talked to any black kids my age before moving to Northampton. My Grandma Norton had some black co-workers at Peter Bent/Brigham Hospital who would sneak me some desert from the cafeteria where they worked. I thought they were nice, but I always feared the black kids I would see getting on and off the train every time I would take the Orange Line into downtown Boston. The most common sentiment expressed about blacks in my Irish-Catholic en cleave was "Niggers Die". My mother was in the minority as far as her opinion about blacks. She never uttered the N-word and the few times she heard me say it, I got a good, well-deserved whack in the head. I quickly realized that my friends from Hyde Park were wrong, black kids didn't smell different (although their skin does get ashy if they don't lotion up), they weren't all thieves (if anything they stole a whole lot less than my friends in Boston) and you could see them at night, even if they weren't smiling.

My mother passed away in the Summer of 1999. That fall we had a an informal gathering at Saint Joseph's Cemetery in West Roxbury where her ashes are buried with my Aunt Rosie and Grandma Norton as well as thousands of other poor Irish-American Bostonians. After gathering at the cemetery I took my brother Greg and my sisters Deb and Chris back to 26 Woodglen Road in the Fairmount projects. They were amazed that we ever lived there having no recollection of the place. They couldn't believe we crammed seven people into such a small place. On that spectacular fall afternoon we were the only white faces around. The current residents must have thought "Damn Jehovah Witnesses, kids don't answer that door!!!". I watched my sister Deb while she surveyed the abject, color-filled surroundings and pronounced "I was born a poor black child.....".

Midnight tonight - don't miss this final chance

We thank everyone who submitted pieces to be considered for our publication. There is still time! If you want to promote your work you have until Midnight tonight (no matter your time zone) to send in poetry or prose (excerpts of works in progress accepted). For details: Click here!

Do not be frightened by this amazing opportunity! And don't miss this chance - tomorrow it will be a g h o s t of a memory...

*click image for source.

EXPLICIT CONTENT!

Therapy

So this is what it felt like to be in love. To want someone so much that every rule and convention you had would be negotiable.
She steadied herself as she watched him leave the building and stalk his way to his car. Her breath caught in her throat, she could not swallow (not yet at least). His lights flashed and she waited until he pulled into the street and rounded the corner before she turned the key in the ignition to follow him...to heaven.

She stepped out of the car in front of the small wood frame house and waited for the shades to open and close signaling her to move into position. She approached the house on wobbly legs and clenched her teeth as she listened to sound of her Red Patent Leather stilettos echo on the pavement. She knocked three times exactly and waited for further instruction.
A brown and beautiful woman answered the door and looked her up and down with a mixture of disdain and tinge of curiosity.
"Well!" the woman seemed angry and nearly barked at her as she stood transfixed on her radiance and war like demeanor. She was already wet. She answered in hopes that it would distract her attraction and mask her rampant lust.
"Yes Mistress, I'm sorry Mistress. I am here. You look so beautiful--"
Her flow of words stopped when a rough female hand gripped a handful of her hand and pulled her into a hard kiss.
"You are late! Get in here!" A hard slap landed on her full bottom and she nearly jumped from her skin with exuberance. She was inside the house and could be put through her paces properly now. She followed the routine happily, almost giddy in anticipation and happiness.
"Have you been good?"
"Yes Mistress."
"So you have earned a treat them?"
"Oh yes Mistress. Please."
She fell to her knees at the pretty woman's feet and buried her face in the fabric of the robe covering her crotch. She ran her hands of the back of bare thighs beneath the cumbersome robe and looked up for permission to proceed. Her Mistress picked up a bell and shook it once. He emerged from the room completely nude and just as excited as the woman kneeling before her mistress.
"You may take your reward now."
The kneeling woman leaned toward the erect man and captured him between her lips, pulling the head of his cock into her mouth like a ripe plum. He sighed and stroked her hair as she pulled and suckled him in the wet cave of her mouth. She pulled him deeper into her mouth until her nostrils met the source of him. Her mistress had seen enough.
"Enough. Come to me."
She eased him from her lips and crawled on her hands and knees to her mistress, now seated with her brown legs wide.
"Did you miss me?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Did you miss him?"
"Yes mistress."
"Good. You have earned the opportunity to Prove it."
"Thank you mistress."
She eased between her Mistresses legs and caressed her thighs again as he eased to his knees behind her and caressed her back. She dipped her spine and he slid home deep within her.
"Oh God. Just Like That," she managed to squeak out.
"Yeah, baby. Anything you want. You can't be this wet! I would have remembered pussy this good girl!"
Her Mistress smiled as she gripped the moaning woman's head and pulled her mouth to rest at the lips of her sex. She obliged her Mistress in full. She tongued and tasted her as she would a ripe mango. Coating her lips and face with sticky nectar. Her Mistress moaned her approval and finally gave her what she wanted. She braced herself for her reward as her mistress gave him the command.
"Punish her. Reward yourself this time."
She kept up pace within her Mistresses folds as he chastised her from behind with the force of a piston. His heavy hand landing on her tender cheeks time and time again until she convulsed on his cock, milking and squeezing him to an eruption deep within her walls. Her Mistress gripped her hair and shook out a violent orgasm.
The three fell away from one another.
They dressed in silence and they walked to the door as the Mistress grabbed up her remote to turn on the tv. The woman turned holding stilettos in one hand and a wad of cash in the other.
"What time next week?"
"After church on Sunday. My kid has band practice all next week. There's a big game coming up so.." The Mistress took the money and tossed it into an open drawer connected to lovely hall table near the door.
"Great. We'll see you then," he answered.
They descended the steps together hand in hand--something that hadn't done in years.
"You still think therapy is silly?" Her question made him smile wide and grip her hand tighter.
"No." He looked at her in a way that she hadn't seen in years.
"You still love me?"
"Always."
They embraced and kissed deeply. He broke the kiss and whispered into her ear all the things he loved about her and proceeded to walk her to her car.
"I'll see you at home."
"Can't wait."

Femigog the Sable Eklektik

You Already Know What It Is...

social running knots
choking my hardened cold soul
begging to be free

Lord make me over
Guide me towards your vision
Living to serve you

Have a good week.

You are Invited

We are producing a book of short stories and poems written by several bloggers. It will be published in December 2007. This is an opportunity to increase your visibility and exposure. If interested, please submit a short piece: maximum length 800 words. Inclusion of your real name or personal information is optional. Your blog URL is required. It can also be a previously posted selection. It must fit into the theme(s) of Love and Redemption (no erotica, please).

By submitting you release the publisher of any copyright infringement that may arise from adding your entry to the publication. Furthermore, you acknowledge that this is an original work created by the submitter and that it does not infringe on any unknown parties copyright. The Publisher owns the rights to the Book and are therefore free to enter into a separate publishing agreement(s) with another Publisher(s) for the Book.

The Author extends non-exclusive rights and retains the exclusive right to authorize serial publication of the material in magazines, newspapers or novel, following the publication of the Book.

You accept that payment in full will be three (3) free books. To be paid prior to OFFICIAL release date. The publisher will notify the author in writing of the official release date. There is no royalty participation for the Book.

While we don't mean to frighten you, we can only accept ten contributions and the deadline is Oct. 31st. Email ONE selection to: bd2write@gmail.com. The selected ten will receive three free copies of the book as stated above. The blogs of the selected ten will be posted here on Nov. 5th.

*click image for source.

I Love You

"I LOVE YOU"

No wait, let me explain
This is not some trite statement or passing fancy
This is not some idle use of the breath it takes to make the omnipotent word defunct
and devoid of its regal and barely understood meaning

No

I love you with every cell in my physiology
They live, divide into millions and at the appointed time, die, at just the thought of you
Even the foreign invaders, bacteria and viruses though they may be
are held hostage until they recognize and participate in the evidence and substance
of this great cognitive and heartfelt emotion for you

This is no, "I love this flavor of ice cream, that song, this color, or that style on you" type of love
This is the, "It's time to wake up, get up and run up because you've got more devotion to give up" type of love

It's the water to fish type of love
It's the air to birds type of love
It's the melody to the song type of love

Near or far
Vociferous or silent
Caressing or too distant
Funky or perfumed

I breath you
I eat you
I sleep you
And I wake up you

I laugh you
I cry you
I rejoice you
I suffer you

When I say I love you, every other use of the word should be offensive to you
Because compared to this, it is to me

You deserve heart, soul, mind and might
And from my minds heart, my hearts mind, you have them all
You are tattooed on my very being

You own my forever

When I say I love you...


Matt 22:37


©SojournerG 2007 All rights reserved

Hai to the Ku!

These express my mood a bit:

All up in my face
Telling me how much you know
But you are not God


Behind shaded eyes
Waiting for me to lose it
My faith will not cease


Tempting my temper
Stepping on my pressure points
Control I won't give


Not sure why, but they keep coming...These aren't as good as the others, but that's ok! I'll get better! Thanks for reading!!

Excerpt AutoPilot

This is a bit of background on the women from my last excerpt (Auto Pilot). Nothing explicit but there are some homo-erotic undertones.....forgive the length

*********

Ugh, how long was this day going to get. That couple asking about plates, something the store had never sold, took up some time but the conversation made her want to scream. In the space of a few moments, which felt like years, she had been told all about their daughter whose husband was cheating and their son who was in his late thirties and still living with them at home. She was almost certain that time had not only stopped but had actually begun to move retrograde on her. She felt like her life had begun to grind to a halt before re-treading the mediocre chain of events that had landed her in her mundane existence at thirty-three years old. “Is this it”, she wondered to herself. Maybe on break she would go check out the new arrivals at that art gallery across the street. The only problem with that was the chick that worked there was always eyeballing her like she was trying to make off with something. Maybe it was because she went there damn near every day and never bought anything more than bottled water, a bookmark or stationary. Still, that wasn’t a very good way to treat customers if you asked her. Of course nobody asked her anything, so there it was. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to buy something. Her wallet simply didn’t accommodate those types of prices. She did all right as co-manager of this particular Inspired Home Accents store but she still worked retail and had to buy her artwork off the rack so to speak. No custom, artist signed and numbered creations fit the budget right now. Of course with Rob sharing the bills now she might actually be able to spend a bit more freely. She might even go over and give that sididdy heifer a commission some day soon. Renee was brought out of her musing when the woman under attack in her daydream walked up to the counter holding a candlestick and paused, staring Renee in the nametag. She quickly recovered from her cogitations and began her spiel in an uninterested tone.

“Oh, hello and welcome to Inspired Home Accents. What can I help you find today?” Renee fidgeted

with the peeling paint on the side of the cash register, as she looked in the face of an attractive Hispanic female

who seemed a bit pleased with herself. Renee pressed on to finish the canned greeting so that she could quickly

dispense of the woman. “All of our clearance merchandise is an additional twenty-five percent off.” The woman

continued to stare at the nametag and then offered a genuine smile of recognition.

“Where are you from? That is some accent you’re sporting.” The woman spoke with a confidence that Renee found disarming to a large degree. The warm smile did wonders for Renee’s tainted disposition but she decided to keep up her less than congenial attitude for the moment.

“Mississippi”, she said flatly to the inquisitive customer. She was curious about the charming accent and couldn’t quite place it. “Southern Mississippi actually. Leicester, County. Ever heard of it?” She stood there waiting for the woman to tell that she had not. No one had ever heard of it unless they were actually from the Mississippi-Louisiana border. And even then they would have to be from the most remote woods and forgotten rural places of the swampland states to be familiar with her hometown.

“No, I never heard of it. But if the people there sound like you, I am glad it exists. Shoot, I might even have to visit,” she said with a smile and adjusted the strap on her hot pink lycra top. Caramel skin against the color of her top toyed with Renee’s awareness as she picked up the candleholder the woman had brought to the counter for purchase and attempted to scan a non-existent bar code.

Renee continued her thought aloud while fumbling with the scanner and candlestick. “Well, my family is from there and I spent every summer there with two dozen cousins but I went to school here in the Lone Star State. I’ve never really identified myself with Houston though. I guess it’s because all of my relatives identify with Mississippi, The Magnolia State.” Renee was rambling, her cheeks were warming up with the same quickness that her mouth was moving. What was that scent? Roses? She wondered to herself as she continued to manipulate the scanner with her right hand and the candlestick with her left. Renee tried to shake the too familiar vibe that seemed to be bouncing off the customer but for some reason she couldn’t. Her mind was trying to tell her body something that it couldn’t comprehend but welcomed all the same. The customer noticed the woman’s slight discomfort and felt more relaxed with the mission she had set out to accomplish. Yeah, the pretty, brown woman was a little unnerved but she wasn’t repulsed or even offended, just a little nervous. Nervous, she could work with…no problem. One comfort zone, coming right up.

Renee continued with the candlestick as the customer began to speak to her again, looking directly at Renee with complete interest and attention. “I have never been to the great state of Mississippi, I’ll bet it’s really nice. How often do you visit there now?”

“Not as much as I would like. Working here makes it hard to get there during holidays, when all the family is there.” Renee released a heavy sigh that told her there was a lot more to that statement that was left unsaid. The candlestick seemed to be getting the best of Renee at the moment and the brief mention of home and family had added the smallest measure of melancholy to their exchange. The woman understood about missing your family all the while trying to help people choose presents for their own. Holidays were the worse for those in their line of work; holidays bring out the worst in people, especially your religious Christmas crowd. The woman scanned the store and noticed all of the tiny figurines juxtaposed with pieces of furniture whose upkeep must be tedious at best. Not to mention a number of annoying and helpless soul-eaters posing as customers. Although there were countless signs placed throughout the shop, indicating sale from regular priced merchandise, a steady stream of people walked up to Renee ‘while she was already speaking to someone’ to ask if this or that was on sale. They barreled up to the counter like they were storming a castle and spoke over one another as if there would not be enough responses to go around.

When they weren’t asking inane questions about merchandise that was tagged they berated her with questions about how to put together tables whose four legs simple screwed on and required no hardware. Of course there were instructions included with every piece of furniture but still the questions continued, pathetic and pampered. Carmen thought the salespeople should get medals for answering the same questions over and over, usually to the same people in a single visit. Ever the diplomat, Carmen decided to lighten the mood and keep Renee talking about other things. Noticing that she was still toying with the scanner and the candlestick, Carmen decided to speak to the situation.

“Those things are so annoying aren’t they? I swear it would be simpler to just write everything down and just do the darn math, right?” Smokey brown eyes bore into Renee’s mind and she was suddenly embarrassed as she felt that every fantasy she had ever imagined could be seen and recounted by the pretty, athletically built woman.

“Uh, yeah. I guess that would be faster than this mess,” Renee weakly offered back. Oh good grief that was pathetic Nay-Nay. Renee finally noticed the handwritten item number and abandoned the scanner, all the while hoping that the woman didn’t notice the oversight. When Renee looked up from the candlestick she noticed the knowing smirk on the woman’s face. Oh yeah, she saw that shit. Cool points you can’t get back. “I, uh guess I shoulda been payin attention. You know how it is. Autopilot.” The woman continued to look at her, as if she was listening to a friend explain away an embarrassment rather than some bumbling sales clerk trying to save face. Renee glanced again at the pretty face and quickly turned her attention back to the monitor.

“Oh it’s on clearance. You want to get another one before they are all gone?” She wanted to die. Did she just try to add on to a sale? “I mean whenever we have candlesticks on clearance they sell out really fast, so you should probably go ahead and get another if you’re thinking you could use another one.” Good grief she was babbling like a complete idiot…again and about something she absolutely had no real interest in, freaking lame candlesticks. For some reason she wouldn’t admit, she just wanted to keep the exchange going for as long as she could in the hopes that the woman might offer something personal about herself or ask Renee more about herself. The pretty woman shifted on her feet and looked intently at the candlestick with a contemplative pout on her full glossy lips.

“Hmm, I don’t know, whaddaya think? I was trying not to spend too much money on this trip since it was just so that I could speak to the woman I see everyday buying the bottle waters in the gift shop of my building.” Her head came up to meet Renee’s surprised gaze with twinkling brown eyes and a brilliant mega-watt smile. Renee just stood open-mouthed for a moment, feeling her heat beat quicken and her skin tingle.

“Um, huh? I mean, what? I’m sorry I just um, what did you say just now?” Renee was confused but also excited about what was happening at the moment. She stood motionless, waiting for further explanation and also wondering what came next in a situation like this one. Careful what you wish for…the day just got a lot less mundane.

to be continued....

once upon a time

you won't come to me so i will come to you
just the way you like it
funny how time flies when it comes to your feelings for me
just a year ago you were trying to fight it
acting like you were little red riding hood
and i was the big bad wolf
i guess the wolf knew what it took to get little red riding hood hooked
"i like that tongue," she said
so i whispered into her ear about how i could make her eyes roll into the back of her head
it eventually got to the point that whenever she would be headed to her grandmother's house
she would look to see if the wolf noticed her out and about
when that didn't work she decided to give the wolf a phone call
i guess she really did enjoy the way he huffed and puffed afterall
and so it began
little red riding hood and the big bad wolf became friends
The End

I Decided I am a Train....

I decided I am a train… I’m on the track moving through life… Some stations I fly through… Others I stay for awhile… On the train with me all the time are the people I love most… And who love me… There are only a few of those…. My man…my never say die folks… There is also a first-class section… There are the other folks who love me… Want to be around me who I want to be around… But not necessarily all the time…. Some family…a few friends… There seats are always available when they wanna ride… The next section is filled with those… Who want to ride occasionally… Every now and then… Take a trip but know when it’s time to depart… “Hey I enjoyed the trip, but gotta go handle my business…” Finally there is the transient section… Those who somehow get on… Just wanna see what’s up… Maybe even wreak a little havoc… Eat the free chicken wings… Those get put off at the next station… No time on this train for that kinda stuff… This train is going places… No time for the dumb stuff… ALL ABOARD…

angelia

Conquest

My worth is not determined by...what lies between my thighs
How fast or how hard you hit it…
Or your ability to hit it and quit it..
A real man is not satisfied with the conquest…
stolen gems from my treasure chest
But seeks the full experience
That which lies in the heart
And separates men from boys
A real man ….will seek my soul.

Feeling the haiku right about now...

You say you love me
Yet you beat me with your fist
This cannot be real

Till death do you part
This (s)kin you are not to touch
Guess you like them young

A Moment

Moments fill our lives each day, and moments come and go.
For a moment, just one moment, I loved someone I know.

Two different lives somehow merged, and yet somehow stayed apart.
But, for a moment, just one moment, we somehow made this start.

All other things were put on hold; we became lost within ourselves.
For a moment, just one moment, there was him and nothing else.

All questions and qualms disappeared the moment he held me tight.
For a moment, just one moment, everything was right.

Long days and sleepless nights, they meant nothing for a while.
For a moment, just one moment, we made each other smile.

The world fell away; I immersed myself in the magic of his touch.
It was a moment, just one moment, but that moment held so much.

Affection shared is what we have, an emotion we felt so strong.
For a moment, just one moment, we were just where we belonged.

Passion rose, we reached the stars, and touched the blazing sun.
For a moment, just one moment, we two were joined as one.

Strong arms afterwards that held me tight, rapid heartbeats in my ear.
It was a moment, just one moment, and a moment I’ll hold dear.

The moment left us all too soon as the world came slowly in.
But for that moment, just that moment, all I knew was him.

It was a moment, and the moment passed, forever lost in time.
But for that moment, just that moment, for that moment he was mine.

If you are an NBA fan, or the editor of ESPN or Sports Illustrated (lol), here are a few articles I've written

Kevin Garnett: Free at Last

Kobe-tic Justice

23 & 10

Ten Unbelievable Moments in Sports

David Stern wants Allen Iverson Dead

LeBron James Does Not Live In The Past

Vampire Writers Beware: Sunlight, Garlic, Wooden Stakes, and a Crucifix

Will the Real Jamal Crawford Please Stand Up?