Tuesday, December 30, 2008

My Destiny

Feel it marinating
growing impatiently inside of me
just....can't....seem to let it go
afraid if its intensity
the beauty it could bring
would bring

should bring
others see it
under my skin I feel it
just below the translucent surface
feverisly brewing an ever present destined reality...

Monday, December 29, 2008

new year's love poem

new year's

and i am falling in love

new year's

and i am missing you

how come, it's only you

you started off taking my breath,

stealing my heart away

this 2009, i wanna be with you

thats my new year's resolution

is to be with my only you

cos i am falling

and falling

but i am scared of a broken heart

i am scared of losing you

my only you

cos i think i have found something real

something beautiful

and i don't wanna lose what we have now

this year 2009

i hope i keep you longer as i could

cos you're so sweet and wonderful

i am very lucky to have you as

my only you..........


©2008 Kai C.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Christmas Love

Christmas Love

is it love?
sweet Christmas love?
i only got you
as my extraordinary gift
you have me
in your heart
all this time
we’ve been chasing snow angels
winter romances
chasing after each other
in the heart shape mistletoes
where icy kisses are everywhere in our grasps
you and me
together, we saw a bright star
in bright skies
knowing this is love
our own beautiful Christmas love
and everyday and every night
it’s Christmas love
cos i’m spending my sweetest moments
with you
©2008 Kai C.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

The Littlest Angel

There are events in life which occur with such resounding force that the shock waves are felt for decades. The ripple effect of these events can be felt by those who where never present or even born when the event occurred. December 14, 1970 is the date of one of those events in my life and that of my family.

Its the day my brother died.

He was 1 month, 26 days old.

Derek was born in mid-October during the brilliance and splendor of Autumn in New England. I remember going to visit my mother and Derek in the hospital the day after he was born. My aunt and I drove over to Saint Margaret's hospital in Dorchester braving a chilly fall rain. As we made our way to the maternity ward we stopped at the gift shop. I begged her to buy a little doll dressed in baby-boy-blue, for my new brother. After what probably seemed like hours of groveling to her, she relented. I can't recall presenting him with my gift, but it became a fixture in his crib, at our home.

A new baby adds spice to a home, sometimes mild and sweet and at other times hot, unbearably hot. My mother was born high strung. If she were in school today she would be diagnosed with ADD, ADHD, PTSD or one of the myriad of other afflictions, abbreviated with letters. The month following Derek's birth was a mish-mash of highs and lows. The tenor of the household mirrored my mother's mood.

I can remember her crying uncontrollably, while smoking at the kitchen table while Derek was lying on the couch, surrounded by pillows.

I can remember sitting with my mother on the front steps of our apartment in Hyde Park. It was a warm Fall day and the trees were shedding their leaves. She allowed me to hold my brother while she watched, tentatively. I remember the smell of crisp fallen leaves while I cradled his tiny head.

I remember my mother and I laughing uncontrollably while I "helped" her change his diaper. He peed all over the two of us.

I remember my father (who was usually no where to be found) and mother fighting loudly, while I rubbed my brothers head while he lay in his crib.

The night of December 13, 1970 was a typical night in my childhood home. My mother downstairs smoking cigarettes and drinking tea. My sisters playing in their room. My brother Mark and I jumping on our beds in our room. Mark and I took Derek out of his crib and put him on my bed. We jumped around him while he lay in the middle. He didn't cry, he just seemed content watching us. We assumed he enjoyed the gentle jostling.

The next few days were a blur.

Who knows what traumas we block out of our minds. If we knew then they wouldn't be blocked, but open for examination. Some memories are best hidden from our consciousness.

I don't remember much about the day my brother died. I recall sadness, grief. I recall standing across the street from my house with the snow lightly falling, telling a schoolmate from my kindergarten class about my brother. I recall my mother promising me that they would bury my gift, the baby-boy-blue doll with him, so he wouldn't be alone. My mother brought me a flower from his funeral. We pressed it in plastic, and put it in an encyclopedia. From then, through my high school years, I would come across it when looking up something beginning with an "S" or a "T" and think of him.

My mother was never the same. From mid-October to December 14th every year until the day she died was torturous. She blamed herself for his death. The morning he died she got him from his crib for his morning feeding. She tried to get him to latch on, but he just wouldn't take her breast. She tried again and noticed that he was cold, motionless. He was gone.

"Crib Death" we were always told. When my mother passed in 1999 we found Derek's death certificate amongst her belongings. Cause of death: acute cardiac failure, emaciation.


That explained the years of autumnal depression. The years of self loathing and self destruction. I, myself, thought I played a role in his passing. For decades I thought that maybe that night we were jumping on my bed that we hurt him, somehow. It was no ones fault. Our frolicking on the bed had nothing to do with it. My mother gave him everything she had, unfortunately she barely had enough to care for herself. The well had run dry.

Christmas time was always bittersweet. Ghosts of Christmas past were not friendly specters guiding my mother toward redemption, but haunting reminders of inadequacies and failure. Someway, somehow, my mother was able to emotionally detach immediately the day after the anniversary of Derek's death each year and get ready for Christmas. I don't know how she did it, but she was always able to pull off Christmas without her emotions getting in the way of our enjoyment of the holiday. As the years went by her grief became more and more transparent until it got to the point where she was paralyzed by her loss and unable to find any joy in the season

The year Derek died and for many years following, there was a Christmas special on TV titled "The Littlest Angel". It was the story about a boy (played by Johnny Whitaker, Jodie on "Family Affair") who dies and goes to Heaven, but is allowed to go back to earth to get his cherished treasure box, so he may give it as a gift to the Christ child on Christmas. Each Christmas I imagined that Derek was the "littlest angel" and gave his favorite toy, his doll dressed in baby-boy-blue, to baby Jesus.

In August of 1999, when I received the news of my mother's death my thoughts immediately turned to Derek.

I imagined him welcoming my mother into heaven.

I imagined her sense of relief when he forgave her for not having enough to give.

I was comforted by the thought of them being together again.

Sweet Somethings...I believe I am blushing :)

You ask why I like you so much
You can't understand it but it's true
I like you because of your chocolate brown skin
and the way that I feel when I look at you
Your zest for life and all that it contains
Your willingness to make me happy thru the joy and the pain
I like you because you give me showers and gently wash my feet
The fact that I see you smile simply because I am smiling
I ask why are you so nice and you say you don't know how else to be
I think as I look your eyes and I can't believe it's true
After all of this time, I have finally fallen in love with you


Sunday, December 14, 2008


This yearn is so exact and never failing,
Omnipotent in its reign.
I'm painting you with an immeasurable amount of color
But still can't get the hue of your face.
At night, you become my sleep aid.
During the day, you give shape to my purpose that I couldn't see.
I'm still not sure of how you look.
A love that doesn't exist in my everyday...
Words missing from my vernacular...
Missing an incomplete thought...
Dangling in amazement by the scent that lingers on my sheets.
When you come, I'll build you a fortress.
The valiance of my anticipation will build one for me.
You'll figure that everything before was just preparation for this.
My mistakes will be perfected into bouts of romance.
You'll know I love you.
It'll be forever...

Saturday, December 13, 2008

the call last night

the call last night

your voice in my ear
the way you talked to me
gives me butterflies
this whole time
you give me butterflies
i don't understand but
i enjoy you
when there's no stars or moon
just you on the phone
sweet soft spoken words
i hear
not a whisper
just you in the dark
as we have conversations and butterflies
the call last night
i felt my heart fell in one place
in a still place
where i text and asked you,
"what do you want in a girl?"
you text back and said, "someone like you!"
i felt red, little butterflies
and you knew exactly what i want
though i fear of my heart
you were like magic
like sparks flying
i am kind of afraid of you
only a little bit
cos i think you're special to me....
©2008 Kai C.
my crush really likes me... i think he wants me to be his girl
but i am terrified!

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Random Again

We are born stripped,
our bright bodies shining.
Screaming and radiant
our hearts ripe and pining.

Who will know
our truest heart?
Whom will we follow
from whom depart?

Pulling, loving
and always aching
Trying, crying
but giving, taking.

We've met this
and that, times before
Always unrecognized
but yearning for more.


Saturday, December 6, 2008

love should not suppose to

make you feel lonely

it shouldn’t

but love hurts when your heart  broke

i guess to me, it feels lonely

why? why is in this nature?

love is there, still you’re alone

i say love is not enough

your soul wants more

your soul and mine wants more

even when we are fulfilled and whole…..

©2008 Kai C.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

RIP Odetta

1930-2008. A true mother of contemporary American music. Sad the Lil Wayne fans out there could give a damn...


Monday, December 1, 2008

Black Widow

by Queen of My Castle and Sojourner G

The vacuum of her beauty
Sucked out my very breath
I found myself immobilized
Nearly choking on my own heart

I inhale your spirit
And exhale insatiable yearning
Bewitched by the flawlessness of my strut
Malevolence slyly clutches your heart

My knees began to buckle
Driving me to the floor
Manhood has deserted me
Contemplating crawling to her feet

Behind these lusty eyes lies a spirit of perversion
Driving you to your knees
And into my ample rich bosom
The heart of the abyss

Which bank accounts can I empty
Which keys can I put in her hands
How much soul do I have left inside of me
Can I be "Mr. Whoeversheis"

With bankrupt emotions
Lost keys to dreams
And no soul left
You've unwittingly become "Mr. WhoeverIam"

I can hardly wrap my mind around
The perfection she defines
Conforming to every fantasy
Creating more yet unimagined

These full pouty lips
Spew true lies
A master of disguise
I'll be who you want me to be

My heart swells with joy
As she passionately receives me
Signing over the deed to my existence
For one moment to claim her as mine

Marvelled are you by my curves
As I welcome you inside
While you bask in my warmth
I knit your soul to mine

Consumed I am by her power
Lost in my own reverie
I realize too late
That Venus is a fly trap

I have no mercy as you grasp at love
Trapped in my web of deceit
I place a venomous kiss of trickery upon your lips
And trot off to the next lame

Prov 5:1-5

©SojournerG & Queen of My Castle 2008 All rights reserved

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Shocking, from Bookworld

I'm a little sad about this. (editor Marie Arana).

Saturday, November 29, 2008

love beautifies me

love beautifies me


love beautifies me

like the sun in the dark

how it beautifies me in a way

when i see angels’ eyes

love beautifies me

lightens me

but paints me black

without sunlight

without angels’ eyes

cos  i ran and hid

from the pain inside my soul

as a flame of my golden dreams,

the moon and stars placed them upon

my hands

flashing away in my shadow

yet i see love through

twinkling, sparks

waking up by my golden dreams

sun, angels

love beautifies me


©2008 Kai C.

did you have a good Thanksgiving?

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Supah Saxy....

He stepped into the darkened, crowded space and lit it up with his energy.
He uncased his sax, smiled then blew his soul all over us at the restaurant's bar.
He re-cased his sax, smiled then blew his heart and sweet ear-gasms all over me ... and only me.

Night & Day he makes love to me by warming up with his sax.
I watch with eager anticipation as he undresses her, slides his nimble fingers over her buttons causing her to sing his blues, jazz and funk.

After gently tucking her away I slip into her place -- in his embrace.
We relish in sweet mind-sex (and I don't mind sex;-).
We undress each other then his strong fingers press my buttons -- causing me to sang his blues, jazz, funk and my joy!

His musical notes spill all over my paiges.
We shout praises to the heavens 'cause our prayers have been answered.
We are so ready for this arranged marriage of our love & creativity
... that has been arranged by The Creator...

C.A.Paige © 2008

To my trained poets: These are simply poetic thoughts of mine which I needed to express. I have no idea what poetic form it fits...
Click image for source.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

another, another poem for Michael

another, another poem for Michael


            you are a star, my bright one

            how i see it in your soul

            when you glow

            onstage, moon walking your way out of a fairytale

            and bring such magic

            in me


            they called you, The Glove One

            they called you,  The King Of Pop


            yet i called you mike, yourself

            a simple child like human being 

            dancing with my tears, my joy

            it’s your voice i hear

            your hands i long to shake

            or even hold for a brief second

            if i ever give you a hug, or say thank you

            for everything that you’ve done

then it might be a beautiful moment, the best time of my life


cos of you, my bright one

you’re always be glowing one of the stars 

 across the heaven sky

across the milky way and oceans

and i have always believe in you

since you’re a bright star,

i believe in you like

you believe in Peter Pan


within my heart,

i know your innocence

your faith in God

your love for children

could forever spread around the globe


            i called you, my bright star

            with wings attached on your back to

            flash around the other stars

            moon-walking on a cloud in your fancy shoes

            the hat you wear overshadows your face                      

            your dark glasses hide your pretty eyes

            i knew you’re still a human

            a lovely black human being

            with a huge heart stretch out like rainbows


            oh Michael,

            this is why i called you, my friend

my bright star,  my Peter Pan

cos you made me cry, made me smile

and i pray, hoping in each day

for you to stay happy



© 2008 Kai C.

Monday, November 17, 2008


Silly of me to think that you would ever really love me too...

Friday night and i'm needing somebody

Not just any body

just your body


To think that you would even remember me...

Me, that cocoa brown, chocolate tan

that same woman that had you squeezing hands...together, cuz you just couldn't resist

those feelings, those emotions i emitted, like gas, intoxicating aerosol

that had you drifting my way...

But still silly...

cuz you ran, you hiked, you jumped ship...not used to this

all of this

Silly of me to think...

a man would truly dive in...when the water was warm...instead you seek the cool waters...well here they come...

Silly of you

to dismiss me

walk away from me

not want me

ignore me


Saturday, November 15, 2008


my love,
i will cry
my heart makes music
cos you’re there
my world spins
and i got tears of a beautiful joy
with a smile of grace
i will know
you are, you are
my love……….
©2008 Kai C.

Neo Soul

We need more lyrics, melodies. There's too much T-pain out there. Thoughts?

Monday, November 10, 2008

these are the soles of Black folk.
the tirelessness of my kind of people.
the integrity of people like me.
provides me with so much joy, I am challenged as I attempt to find all the
right words.
yet there are none.
So, I bask
in the aftermath of his-story
becoming our own.
these are the soles of Black folk.

often just like our efforts.
from days of fighting for the cause.
miles and miles of walking to freedom without pause.
trial and error was once served as the precedent many
But, not today!
My soles are now showing their importance.
glorified for the dilligence.
The work we've done is now our mouthpiece.
these are the soles of Black folk.
the souls of the freedom riders.
invades my pride today.
I carry their honor in my heart, each day.
today, I understand the very meaning of faith.
today, I understand the very meaning of hope.
today, I understand it better
from the conversations with my elders
and the God that helped them cope.
these are the soles of Black folk.
these soles have weathered the storm
and now
and now
we see the movement of our feet being proven.
thank you, Barack and Michelle Obama
for your HOPE and FAITH in America
for your dignity and respect
for your ability to promote unity in a country that has lost sight of the American Dream
these are the soles of Black folk.
the time is now.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

President Obama

i want to shout out
thank you, thank you
time to change
always keeping faith
cos an American dream,
we’re living in it
and there were tears of beautiful joy
pouring from my mother’s eyes
so thank you, thank you Lord
i’m celebrating to be
an American
i wanna wave the flag
and smile
and say, this is my president Obama
i’m proud
to be an American
yet the world knows
anything is possible….
that proves every single person could
make a difference
even children could only see
this generation here
that you could do anything
in despite of an American dream
every race, every disability,
every gay or even transgender
even a woman could make a change
to the world
this is why each voice counts
only to make the world go
©2008 Kai C.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Voting: Just Do IT!

Click image for source.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Episode 12-"Restraint"

"Chanelle." I repeated with tightly controlled exasperation.

She stared at me with a stirring look of pleading and confidence. I was really trying to redirect her but that look made it hard. All men want their women vulnerably aggressive. She turned, glided into the fire lit boudoir and disappeared into a door in the back of the room.


As I stood there contemplating my next move, my mind raced with colliding pasts, presents and futures. Reality is highly subjective and a matter of the point of view of the person experiencing it. Clearly Channel and I were experiencing different realities. Mine was extremely difficult at the moment and hers was about to be.

Lost in thought as I stood gazing at the gently falling dusk, it was her scent that guided me out of my reverie. As I swiveled my head to look over my right shoulder, my brain began to process the incoming data in one word bytes: hair, eyes, negligee, sheer, voluptuous, stilettos...damn. It was with effort that I closed my betraying mouth, it having fallen open unbeknownst to me.

She smiled furtively as she beckoned me into her sanctuary with one...slow...sexy...forefinger. Hypnotized, I found myself moving toward her against my failing will. The baser part of me shouted down my good sense and reason. When I arrived at what felt amazingly like home, her arms, she began to draw me toward the seemingly hundreds of candles illuminating the turned down bed of heaven she had prepared.

Just as we were about to cross the threshold, an insurrection started with my feet; they stopped moving. My awakened manhood retreated from his urgency understanding that this was neither his day nor his time. My mind made it unanimous by sending a hand to the door jamb to both establish a barrier and steady the body from the coup that just took place between lust and reason...past and future.

"Chanelle. Let's talk," I said with a mixture of resignation and resolve.

Fear crept into her eyes, but she powered through it, saying, "Come with me baby. I have something for you."

"Let's talk," I said quietly as I looked into her eyes.

It's as if that was a cue that they needed watering. The tears begin to ring the lower lid of her eyes, reflecting the dance of the candle flames.

I led her to the over stuffed couch and held her hand as we sat and semi faced one another.

“Chanelle...honey, what are you doing?”

“Miles I wanted to feel close to you again, it’s been a long time.”

“Yes it has...a VERY long time. But honey all of this is so...sudden.”

“I know it’s sudden but it wasn't my initial thought process when I planned this trip with you…for you, for us,” she said quietly.

“From the looks of that bedroom, not to mention your very sexy lingerie, it seems that you definitely had some things on your mind,” I offered evenly.

“Yes, I admit once you called me back to say you would come with me I made all of these arrangements. I wanted this time to be special, to mean something.” Then she smiled as she arched her back and placed a hand in her tightly waved coif, striking a vogue pose. ”I know your favorite color is black,” she fetchingly hissed as she forced my gaze through the gauze like material. “My memory is golden.”

“Easy big fella,” I mentally chided myself.

“What’s stopping you baby? Time was when all I had to do was yawn and you were all over me,” she wondered earnestly. “What’s your hesitancy?”

“But Chanelle, there is so much unresolved between us. What you've done here is nice...very nice, unbelievably nice. I don't know if it's worth it to even go back into "us" but honey we've not spoken a word in years. You left without so much as a note and I was left to pick up all of the pieces...alone. There was NEVER any closure with that," I said compassionately. “You went on to get married and have a family and after a while I was glad for you. I was proud of what you accomplished with your business and that you had the loving husband you always wanted me to be. I regret, more than you know, that we didn't walk that road together. I regret that I didn’t understand better; that I didn’t fight harder. Babe I just didn’t see.”

Ghostly emotion began its journey from the dark padlocked box in the depths of my psyche, to the surface of my consciousness.

“My heart aches for what you're going through and I'll always be here for you because I'll always love you but this is too much too soon for both of us and doesn't even take into consideration that though you were traumatized, you're still married,” I offered in emotion defeating logic.

Channel subconsciously pulled the throw on the couch around her, covering herself. “I got tired Miles. I wanted easy. I didn't want to fight for your attention anymore. Now I'm embarrassed and humiliated again.” she achingly choked, as she pulled the throw even closer around her neck. “I'm sorry,” she said as she attempted to rise. “Let me change my clothes and we can talk."

The tears that merely moistened her eyes before formed pools that began to overflow and slide down her perfect skin.

“Sweetie, stay right here,” I said as I gently restrained her by hugging her shoulders. She resisted at first and then collapsed her full weight onto me as her crushing agony overwhelmed her.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through. You can’t know what it’s like to be rejected by your husband in favor of another man. You don’t know what it’s like to have to go and get an HIV test, to cry every night, to wonder if it’s your fault, to be utterly alone in the world,” she screamed hysterically. “And now this!” She sobbed.

“This is just too much,” she whimpered, as her hitching, childlike convulsions shook us both.

“Babe, it's not rejection, it's redirection. Sex with me is not what you need right now. Healing is what you need,” I offered with all the compassion at my disposal.

The couch soaked up our combined woes and worries as we drifted off to sleep there.

Prov 16:20

Shout out to my "Pahtnah" Miz Represent

©SojournerG 2008 All rights reserved

Saturday, October 25, 2008

love (about moms)

do you know what day it is?
mother's day
so we have to celebrates
our moms who just give us our feet to walk our freedom,
our hands to reach for the stars
our voice to spit out words
our strength to be who we are
cos moms know best
when it is come to their youngings
and maybe one day
i would be just like my mother
to my future child
who tell and show the world
i give and cannot afford
the motherly love
i would share
through years after
of forever
just like my mother
cos she loves me
and thinks what's best for me
yet i am a mama's girl
©2008 Kai C.

Friday, October 24, 2008

A Loveku for You

Is this moment real?

You gaze into my eyes and

My breath disappears

Coming To The Page

The production team of Bloggers’ Delight is now accepting submissions for the highly anticipated Second Volume of short fiction stories and poetry and we want to hear your voice.

Who’s Invited to Submit:

Any writer who maintains a blog, even if you only post once in a while; you are eligible. If you consider yourself a writer, we’ll consider your short story or poem for inclusion in our next publication.

Submission Guidelines:

The story MUST be suitable for placement in the SUSPENSE or THRILLER genre of literature (including: Romantic Thriller, Urban Suspense, Science Fiction Thriller, etc).

Please provide a cover sheet with the story title, author’s name, address, contact number and blog url.

On a separate page following the cover sheet we would like a short author bio (250 words or less) to be included with the submission.

All short story entries must be: (a) in English; (b) no more than 5000 words in length (no exceptions); (c) typed; and (d) properly indented and double-spaced in a standard 12 pt. font (i.e., Arial or Times Roman).

The title, author and page number must be listed on each page.

Stories will be evaluated for clear thoughts, originality, and creativity. All decisions are at the discretion of the judges and are final. Acts of plagiarism, including the use of third party characters, other creations by another author or song lyrics, without written permission, will be disqualified. The submission must be a work that is not libelous and does not violate the copyrights or use the licensed material of any individual or entity. Submissions may not be offensive or defamatory, as determined by the judges. Failure to adhere to the guidelines will result in disqualifying your submission without refund. Copyrights remain with the author.

Poetry submissions cannot exceed 350 words (1 page)

Accepting Electronic Submissions ONLY:
All submissions must be received by 5pm EST Sunday January 18, 2009.
Any submissions received after this time will not be considered.
Please submit poetry and short stories to bdbooks@i-lit.com

Submission Fees:

We require a reading fee of $25 for each short story submission. You can submit more than one story if you like, but if selected, there will only be one story per author included in the finished manuscript.

Poetry submissions require a $5 reading fee per poem. Submit as many as you like. Only the best will be chosen. An author can have a short story as well as a poem(s) in the finished book.

Fees are non-refundable and have no bearing on final participation.

Submissions received without the reading fee will not be considered.
Please submit payment through PAY PAL to bloggersdelightbook@yahoo.com

What You Can Expect:

Each creative piece will be given careful consideration. Your work will be judged based on how well it captivates the reader. We will be looking for well written, fair to fast paced engaging stories.

The stories that are selected for inclusion will be professionally edited. The author will have an opportunity to see the editing recommendations. Every effort will be made to ensure the final draft meets both vested parties interests.

The final product will be marketed across the country. Book signings will be scheduled in various cities across the country. Every attempt will be made to host signings in the residing city of the authors included in the anthology. Selected participants will be required to actively promote the book and attend at least one marketing event.

Books will be made available online.

Inclusion in the finished publication, one (1) free book for poets and five (5) free books for authors, and previously stated marketing exposure will be considered compensation for the selected authors.

The names of the selected participants will be made available in a future correspondence at this site. Participants will also be notified in advance electronically.


If you have any further questions or require clarity regarding any of the previously outlined requirements, please send your correspondence to bdbooks@i-lit.com

The owners of Bloggers’ Delight reserve the write to change participation requirements without prior notification. If that need arises, changes will be posted at this site and will be effective as of the original date of publication.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Poem: M.I.A.

Gone again
Leaving me
Will I get it right

You looking at me
Your eyes
Focused on me
Caressing my soul

I hate to admit
Your touch
The taste of your kiss

I am
For burying you
My issues
Walling up
My emotions
Because I feared you
Hurting me, leaving me

Am I at
You will come back
Into my life

I wonder
Did I go too far
Been too evil
For you
To come back to me
Have I closed
My heart
Too tight
For you to enter

I apologize
For my ignorance
For my offending you
For misunderstanding you

The days grow long
I ache
From self-inflicted pain
Stubborn pride
I sigh
Are you still
My friend.

©Shai Lynn K. Davis

Thursday, October 16, 2008



run, run, run
with you

my heart races

before you come

i feel you coming

and i will run

into your arms

holding you longer

as i can

keep you forever as i plan on

i will run, run

spreads my arms wide

and fly into your heart

css i belong to you.......

©2008 Kai C.

CAPCity: Reading Up on a Roof in Harlem

This was one high-energy evening! Thanx again for all the luv, support & encouragement on Saturday, Oct. 11th!

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Funny Thing About Love

Inspired by : Every Little Bit Hurts - Alicia Keys and my best buddy Fawn.

Funny thing about love,
it makes your heart sing,
and your lips smile,
makes your body tingle all over.

Funny thing about love,
makes you cry alone at night,
makes your heart bleed,
makes your body hurt all over.

Funny thing about love,
makes you want ,
want till you don't think straight,
or see clearly what is.

Funny thing about love,
how you deny all the bad,
and only see the good.

Funny thing about love,
how it starts,
grows till its bigger than you.

Funny thing about love,
how we all want it,
long for it, & when we have it we take it for granted.

Funny thing about love,
how one uses it to manipulate another,
knowing the other is hopelessly in love
and will submit themselves to anything.

Funny thing about love,
how it starts so genuine,
with both hearts, then one is stronger than the other,
trying to make up for both.

Funny thing about love,
as bad as it gets,
how we still seek it out,but with caution.

Our wounded hearts,
how we take a beating over a lifetime.
how we recover,well ,most of us.
how we build invisible armor around our hearts and souls..
how we desire to be one with another,
only to be heart broken again in the end .

It isn't only the long lasted loves in our lives that matter.
It is those loving moments that we hold dearly,
hold closely..
That keep us warm at night,
when we are all alone.
That makes us get up every morning and face the trials of the next day,
with hopes for better tomorrows.

Some of us find this out not till late in life,
but some of us find this out earlier..

those moments in your life,
give what you can give,
love who you can love,
live for those wonderful moments,
they will carry you for all your days...

Monday, October 13, 2008

This clip from the BD Celebration needs no editing...

Besides, I'm too excited & exhausted to edit this piece. Special thanx to R.J. Leippert for taking the role as videographer so seriously that very little editing needs to be done! Sistah Miz, U pulled this one out the hidden treasury and I am so proud to call U a partner! Hugz to ya all.


Sunday, October 12, 2008

Thanx Eb & Dejanae for these images...

Until I download from my cameras here's what Eb the Celeb & Dejanae (above;-) posted! Thanx 2 my Li'l Sistahs of Blogland! SMOOCHEZ;-)!

A special shout out & Hug to my Brother from another mother: RL, for taking his job as videographer (using the Flips) so seriously! Can't wait to look over all that footage!!

Racist Poetry?

Just want to get your impression...

Thanx 4 the Blogger Luv in da NYC!

It was so wonderful to read under the stars, over-looking the Hudson river as the Autumn breezes caressed us! Thanks for coming out to support our first collection of short stories. Bloggers came through and showed much luv:

Sheletha, Lance - the infamous Non-Blogger, Organized Noise, Eb the Celeb, Ali of Ali'sZay, Bougie Negro, Dejanae, BrooklynGirl, ShellyShell.

A special thanks to Troy Johnson, President of AALBC for coming out!

A extra big, ol' country hug to my gurl, Miz for treating us listeners to her beautiful voice in song! She had us all spellbound!

We couldn't have asked for a better NYC celebration:-)

Photos & videos will follow very soon!!

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Tonight... It's Going to be ON & POPPIN'

U don't want to miss this event if you're in NYC:

When: Sat., Oct. 11th from 6pm-9pm.

What: Several Authors of Bloggers' Delight, vol. 1: Love & Redemption will host the FINAL celebratory reading & signing of our premiere national tour;-). There will be food, drinks & several surprises;-).

Where: A beautiful Harlem gallery over-looking the Hudson river! Rio II Gallery at 135th street & Riverside Drive (the upper level of Riverside - not down near Fairway). 583 Riverside Drive, 7th Floor; New York, NY 10031

How (Cost): Simply come, purchase a book (or 3;-) &/or a free-will offering. A percentage of all proceeds will go to support the Broadway Housing Community (which hosts the gallery). For more information about them: http://www.broadwayhousing.org/galleries/

Thursday, October 9, 2008

She's A Go Getter: Knockout Round....

maybe its because im a libertarian, or a free thinker, or better read than mccain or obaama, but they just dont seem to understand the primary let alone teitiary aspecdts of what confronts us as simple americans
they lift you up
flying you around
and bring you
back down to earth

oh, this time
angels bring you to
©2008 Kai C.


THIS Sat., October 11th, 2008: Official submission guidelines will be shared at the final signing celebration in NYC. Afterwards, those guidelines will be posted here & at: www.i-lit.com.

2008 continues to be GREAT! We can't succumb to the doom & gloom of the news reports when we continue to be so blessed!

Thanks again for all of your support!

Click image for the source & myspace page of a recording artist.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

BD2Write's Anniversary & Thank You!

It is often said that "Time flies when you're having fun" and this blog is more proof that it's a true statement! One year and two days ago, on Oct. 2nd, 2007 we launched this blog and invited you readers to The Party of the Blog-o-sphere! One year ago TODAY, we received our first Gift, posted by Sojourner G. We continue to be thankful to all who stop by this blog, leaving comments and good vibes! Of course, we are deeply indebted to and grateful for all of our contributors who are the life-blood of this project.

Reiteration of How We Named this Blog-Project (& select much of the music):
Those of us who came together to create this blog-project came of age along with HipHop. Many of our parents thought HipHop would be a musical fad, much like disco. Instead, HipHop has blossomed into a movement -- and for many, a lifestyle. Clearly not the beginning of HipHop itself - Rappers' Delight was the introduction of HipHop to the world of those who are not native New Yorkers. Twenty-nine years ago, in 1979 Rapper's Delight became the first hip-hop single to go gold. We, the creative team behind Bloggers' Delight...to Write, know that we did not start this phenomena of blogging, but we look forward to introducing the world to blogging as never before imagined! Because : "What you see is not a test!"

Click image for source.

Friday, October 3, 2008

No One Wins : 3 in 1

My mind is empty, my heart is still, no longer do I breath.
My eyes are closed, my brain shut off, no longer do I feel.
My voice is quiet, my soul is closed, no longer does it dwell.
You've taken what you've wanted, nothing is left of me.
You've taken all I've offered, and left me here to bleed.
You've taken everything I loved, and tossed it to the side.
I try to work things through each time, and seem to make it right.
I try to gather up the thoughts, and find the love inside.
I try to capture every breath, and hold it close to me.
You will not see me for the person that I am right now.
You will not know what you have done until the day I'm gone.
You will not know what you have lost, until it is too late.
We'll look behind us and stare into the past.
We'll hold out our hands, and see nothing but the pain.
We'll walk away grasping for the air.
No longer will I wonder, about the love we had.
No longer will I be alone even though you were with me.
No longer will I take the beatings of words that you twist and turn.
I'm done. You have won. I'm beaten, and I concede,
but as I go, I must ask... who is the victor? You or Me?

Pain Cuts Deep

He said he needed me
I thought that it was love
I was wrong again
When all he did was come

There were no loving kisses
No words of sweet romance
Just timely thrusts of sexes
That was the so called dance

A vessel for his needs
No desire does he give
As I slip away
No longer being his

Just two bodies joining
The love no longer shows
Though inside my heart is bleeding
As he just lets it flow

When the act is over
He tells me he is done
And I'm no longer needed
So I turn and run

I move away and leave him
My heart broken deep inside
My body it is empty
My eyes they start to cry

I tried to not be hurt
I tried to just ignore
The pain that I am feeling
As I close that bedroom door

So I came to write
Words that he won't read
Where I pour the pain
And hope it helps me bleed

My body shakes in sorrow
As my breath locks in my chest
And soon I'll face tomorrow
With a face that shows its best

No one will see the sadness
Or witness it this night
For like the times before
I'll cover it real tight

I just need these words
To cleanse my very soul
And once again I'll feel complete
My words will make me whole.

Gloom and Doom

Walking Away

She's shaking in frustration.
Her fingers barely touch the keys,
to form the words she needs
to set her spirit free.

Her body was his vessel.
His come the seed he spilled.
And though he knew her pain,
He still refused to heel.

She lies in disbelief and anger,
Unable to go to sleep.
As the tears flow faster
down her rosy cheeks.

Her jaw is tightly clenched .
Her heart is in a vise,
wondering why she thought
he ever would play nice.

Eventually she breathes.
Takes in the sex-filled room
and closes off her body.
In her mind she fumes

One day he'll look and find her,
in the arms of another soul.
One who makes her wither.
One who makes her whole.

Only then will he suffer.
He'll bleed for all its worth.
And she'll walk away,
her life finally rebirth.

ever wonder what if?

Wednesday, October 1, 2008


So tender, fresh, ignored...
I looked at her and saw my reflection,
tattered, worn, hurt, waiting.
I wanted to tell her how OK it would be,
but I had respect for her.
She asked me, "Why?" ... as if I had the answers in a confidential folder.
Her pride caused her chest to rise as if someone forbade to do otherwise in these situations.
An attempt of dignity came.
She walked away and told me she's going to find her salvation.
Her swollen belly glistened with innocence.

I wanted to tell her about the blank mission she was embarking on.
I wanted to tell her she was looking in the wrong direction.
I wanted to warn her about the blisters on her feet that were to come.
I wanted to hold her hand on this journey, but my feet were sore too.

She would soon find an unmatchable inner strength.
In time, the walk's purpose would change.
Her smile would resurface with the embrace of her unborn.
She'll ask me, " What about me?"
I'll just wonder for her as I do for myself.
Where's my safety net?
No one ever catches me.
What if I'm not sure?
So, is this it?.... Stick it out?
No one's listening.
No one ever is.
I held her hand and walked with her.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008



that's what people in the society do
that's what the media and tabloids do
that's what the school history books do
that's what's unrealistic hip hop do
that's what prejudice do
that's what ignorance do
with fucking lies
about living in a world
where we violently pretend to be
just perfect
bringing others down
with racism
self hate/jealous
all kinds of things we created
to make us more better
and i think it's fucking stupid
cos nobody is better than nobody
so go and read a certain realest book
only to find the TRUTH...

©2008 Kai C.


Not poetry per se--more art and culture...and will make to trip and flip! Forest Whittaker controversy here.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


I knew I was in trouble, early on. Maybe it was the way she responded to me with her fingers. I imagined metallic brick red tipped digits lightly, but nimbly and adeptly typing the words, “my liege, my humble frontiersman on this hunt for literary perfection, for spiritual gravity. You're seated at the right hand” or “Much, much luv!”, or greater still, “Uh, you collapse me! YOU BETTA WRITE!” Those words alone had me on my knees searching for my breath.

I’ve always been a sucker for a woman that first, has an interest in me and second, knows the right thing to say at the right time in the right way. It’s not just about the words. It takes the words though. That’s the cover charge. That’s the ante. But then she’s got to: start at zero, turn one click to the left, spin the dial back to the right four clicks, then back left and stop on three, the combination to my soul. This woman was a heartsafe crackin’ cat burglar, deftly breaking into me, stealing my mind and taking it back to her place where she plunders my being. Damn. I’m suing the security company.

I was fascinated with her from the start. It was as if I were the literary Magic Johnson seeing Byrd for the first time. Friend or foe? I didn’t know but she had mad mad game and Respect rudely pushed its way in front of Wonder and Envy to get a courtside seat.
I had to physically close my mouth after three paragraphs of her genius wafted off the screen, encircled my head like smoke and soaked into my ashy existence like cocoa butter. She revitalized me and didn’t even know I was on the planet. “Who is this new kid on the block?” Scratch that, who is this literary goddess that has descended from Mt. Olympus without warning or fanfare that has shown up…and just written?

I paid my proper respects. “Girl where did you come from?!?! This is genius!” Then I moved on…or so I thought. There are a lot of good writers out there. Lots. I don’t vibe with them all though. There are great artist that sing country music. I don’t listen to it. But something about her stayed in the back of my mind.

Soon she was showing up at my spot, dropping props and terms of endearment. The goddess butterfly has come to light on my particular petal? And I’m “baby?” Houston, we have a problem! My appetite for her every word went diesel. The emails began, the exchanges increased. She seemed to be feeling me. I was definitely feeling her. Her every word tasted like sweetened condensed milk and I wanted to taste them over and over again. What is this gift wrapped in an invisible bow? What does she look like? What does she sound like? Do I even want to know? Because when I fall, I fall hard…and too fast for my own good. Why is she taking so damn long to email me back?!

We exchanged cyber glances and blog rib pokes. She smelled so kilobyte good. Every keystroke sent shockwaves through my world and I began to fall…

©SojournerG 2008 All rights reserved

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Falling stars
like tears
from the sky face
when I look up
there’s all blue
so blue
I see
with clouds casting by
the wind on my skin
tickles me so
I laugh
it’s gonna be
a beautiful day.....
   ©2008 Kai C.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Sought Potential Poem Movie!!

My NEW Poem Movie, "Sought Potential" has been released!!! It is a very inspiring and professional project that I put together for your viewing pleasure. The movie has its very own website so you can watch it over and over again. You are also encouraged to tell all of your friends and family about this good news.

Share this inspiring movie with everyone you know who has potential, but might need a little reminder that all things are possible through Christ Jesus!

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Bad Writers, Evil Writers

Blood stirring thoughts for a new week...

Poets, like whores, are only hated by each other.

Poetry is what happens when an anxiety meets a technique.

I gave up on poetry myself thirty years ago, when most of it began to read like coded messages passign between lonely aliens in a hostile world.

--quotes from various & sundry big names...

Saturday, September 13, 2008

remembering 9/11

remembering 9/11


you remember that sunny day

when something bad happened

tears literally poured

and we became clouds

standing beneath the blue sky

i remember victims and love ones were

running together

cos the ghosts flew up the heavens

and land upon God’s shoulders


our hearts were broken

you know,

we cried

as we all become one

not just the America

the whole world bringing pain

and sorrow in the join of hands


but we became stronger

much stronger as we are today

even if we are enemies

we still join hands now

in each day


cos it’s not the last  day

of another event

we might lost a love one

or some of us might  pass


this is the day

when we broke down

the hatred and start sharing

love way around the world

again and again


only to join the hands

 as one

remembering the day

when we left

tears and stains

upon the ground where

we stroll the time of



©2008 Kai C.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Poem: "Chemistry"

I am the solitary Albatross
Soaring high, mighty, and free
I am the Solitary albatross
Flying solo above a world undeserving of me
I AM the solitary albatross
Born to fly well above other birds of the sea
I am the solitary albatross
Condescending to reveal what I want you to see.

Nesting in the craggy hilltops at the edge of the sea
I depend on the sheerness of the cliffs for more than security
Feigning suicide, I dive from the heights of the highest seawall
Only to spread my giant wings near the end of my fall
I upturn my wings as I head out to sea
Not flapping, I float, I rise... I overcome gravity
I know of flightless birds that dwell upon the land
Like the ostriches that bury their heads in the sand
And the penguins, waddling and clumsy yet too stately to play
Or the peacocks with feathers meant for dazzling display
And even among other birds that take to the air
Whether predators or scavengers flying about everywhere
None soars higher than the albatross or is more regal
The shadow of a single wing dwarfs even the mighty eagle
So flying towards the sun only to perceive
Another flying higher and I scarcely do believe.
Seeking an updraft, I climb higher and higher
Getting closer and closer I seek to inquire
Who dares to intrude on my heavenly domain
And disturb the solitude I so carefully maintain?
Another master of the air? Another ruler such as I?
Two giants circle each other like mirror images in the sky
Spiraling ever upwards putting each other to the test
Until finally the two reflections join and disappear into the west.

Peace and Love,

Ali’s Zay

Copyright © 2008 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.