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...

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.

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.

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.

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

~mysTery

Untitled

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...

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
around
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!

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.

T.S.Snowden

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.

RIP Odetta

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

CAC
www.natturnersrevenge.blogspot.com

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

Shocking, from Bookworld

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