After all, what is The Word, but food for the soul? It makes perfect sense.
My home is slowly getting old…
Eclectic in a way that will never grace a magazine cover
It is a home that is lived in, a structure that has seen some years
Pock marks, and tiny fissures vein parts of the wall
I used to see it as fault, now I see the imperfections as character
My home is warm / inviting…
Not one for bright colors or pastels except as the occasional accent,
I have ever changing adornments of noirs, scarlet, indigoes, eggplants etc.
It is deep rich colors and jewel tones that I like best
To offset the warmth of my mocha walls
My home is full of sound…
The hiss when its steaming
The pop when the floor is stepped on the wrong way
The hum of music and conversation that surround me
Mostly externally, but sometimes it’s just in my head
My home is spiritual / sensual…
The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace, Magen David, Crescent, and Ankh thrive here
Cuisines Mediterranean, American, Caribbean, Asian, Vegan are served here
Children, friends, lovers and a husband, still do or once have lived here
And once invited to cross my threshold, you know that you are loved here
My home is not where I hang my hat, feed my face, lay my head…
It is in my body that I have lived in these soon to be fifty years, slowly getting old
It is in my heart deep within that I am slowly trying to let out again, warm / inviting
It is in my soul where I find my comforts for me and my joy for others, full of sound
It is in my breath that compels to be alive and live for myself, spiritual / sensual
My home is… me
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The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace sign, Magen David, Crescent and Ankh are in a tattoo that runs along my spine from base of my neck down, in that order.
dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting The Bar : Oh, the place we live!
Have I mentioned how much I love I have for the human male species at the moment?
In the past few days I have witnessed, viewed or were directly told / know about…
Witnessed:
A friend and I were window shopping. As we were not in a particular rush, we strolled behind an elderly woman using a walker in front of us. A teenager, apparently not happy at the rate of speed we were moving, huffed and rushed around my friend and I to our left. However, the elderly woman decided to move to the left at the same time. Somehow the teenager’s foot caught the leg of the walker effectively wrenching it from the woman’s hands and causing her to tumble forward. The only reason she did not fall flat on her face was because my friend and I both grabbed her at the same time, steadying her. Still it was jarring for her. The teen mouthed off an obscenity as he just shy of threw the walker in our general direction and kept going.
I was about to call out something related to his upbringing, or rather the lack thereof when the teen suddenly dropped to the ground. I looked up and saw a very strong-arm extended straight out. The arm belonged to a gentleman, perhaps in his mid-30’s, who had clotheslined the teen. The man then grabbed the teen by the back of his coat and marched him back towards us. I never saw the man’s mouth move, or heard anything, but he clearly had said something to the teen between dropping him and lifting him. The elderly woman, my friend and I were near flabbergasted as the teen picked-up the walker, stood it properly in from of the elderly woman and apologized to all three of us, but especially the elderly woman. And where one would have expected him to be belligerent or at least sullen, he was actually contrite in his apology. Once the gentleman let go of the teen’s collar, the teen made another quick apology and walked away. The gentleman gave us a short salute and a nod, which looked almost like tip of a hat, except he wore none and merely walked away without a word to us, not even acknowledging our effusive thanks.
I have no idea if the man and teen knew each other. It was a situation that could have become; really bad, really fast if the teen had chosen to fight. Instead we had a wonderful example that a) chivalry is not dead and b) that there is hope for the future, as at least some can be corrected of the error of their ways, at least in regard to manners.
Viewed on Facebook:
Several companies in an area share the local diner. After some time everyone gets to know the regulars even those that work for other companies. K, a person I am already proud to call a friend was shocked when a fellow diner not only openly admits to watching child pornography that he “found”. There was no shame in his actions. K’s co-workers were aghast, but not wanting to confront to issue were trying to exit out of the sickening conversation. However there was soon regret when the scumbag begins to speak of the little girl in the found cache in terms that should never be used with a child and finds himself slammed into a wall with K’s fist drawn back, ready to deliver what I’m sure would have been one hell of a blow. In a complete Murphy’s Law move, that would be the moment K’s boss spies the situation.
Long story-short: K still has a job and the police were called on Mr. Scumbag. As I commented on Facebook, we need so many more like K, who will not only be instantly enraged by such, but will take the perpetrator to task and actually Do Something.
Told / know about:
So with March, and thus Women’s History Month fast approaching, while we’re still in the month of love and I’m still in such a gregarious mood, I just want to give some love out to all my male friends in particular but spread some love out to the rest of you guys too.
Just try not to make me lose this feeling for you all before the week is out okay? 😉
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I woke up this morning still disgusted.
Satirical news site The Onion is known for its quick quips and scathing, if generally tongue in cheek, mockery of current events. The joke officially crossed the line with Oscar nominee, Quvenzhané Wallis of Beasts of the Southern Wild, when someone at the site tweeted “Everyone else seems afraid to say it, but that Quvenzhané Wallis is kind of a c***, right?” (The tweeted version was not censored.)
Yes, the tweet was deleted within minutes of being posted. I’m sure it is because they quickly realized it was appalling on so many levels, but I am also guessing the immediate backlash of an outraged public displaying our collective disgust helped.
It is deplorable to no end that an adult had such a nasty thought about a child. Let alone be so amused by the repugnance, as to tweet it out to the world. The c-word as an adjective is by and far still considered one of the most vulgar words one can use against a woman. Yet someone at The Onion thought it was okay, in fact funny, to use such against a young child. How young? Nine years old, young; young enough to carry puppy themed purses to the all of the award events to which her talent has been acknowledged, young.
And on the biggest night of her young life, thus far, someone thought it was satirically brilliant to call her the c-word before the world. I’m sure Wallis’ mother appreciated the astute, rapier-witted humor The Onion had for her child.
Not that any word picking on a child, especially on such a prestigious night, would have been acceptable, but why that word? Why a word with such sexual connotations? Why against a child? And let’s just throw it out there, why against a Black child? Because being an adult actress of color in Hollywood is such a cake walk as it is. Let’s give Quvenzhané something to look forward to as she pursues her career.
And As sexist and misogynist as many of Seth McFarland’s jokes were throughout the night, The Onion in one loutish tweet suddenly made him a class act. I will however quote him on one joke he got right regarding Quvenzhané Wallis “You’ll be at the future Oscars when the rest of us are dead.”
Yes, with talent like hers, she will be at many more Oscars and when she finally wins…?
Boy, oh boy, I cannot wait to hear her acceptance speech then!
As an adolescent she’s told her looks are of a different class
Thus she finds herself staring hard in the looking glass
Not something she understands like ‘cute’ or ‘pretty’
Or even something as distinct like ‘siddity’
Just a tad too young to get the full meaning of erotic
But just old enough to know it’s not good to be exotic
Ferried every other Friday to the beautician’s chair
The only way to tame her long tightly woven hair
Suffers sleeping at night with a snug clothing pin
Shaping her nose so it’s straight and thin
Wooing her lips to sit just a tad inside
Knowing what they say about lips that are wide
Gone are the colorific beads that once adorned her hair
She’s older now and looks like that look cause stares
No batiks of blazing hues or other prints of ‘that’ fashion
More intents to belie the stereotypes of passion
Make sure her posture, like her diction is just so
Muddling through comparisons to a cookie we know
Walking ramrod straight without a rounded swerve
An attempt to camouflage of her natural curve
For decades she carefully toed that social standoff
Through the changing climes of wardrobe and coif
Never looking like ‘that’ was her personal pride
But conflicted as social and ethnic respect collide
But one perm too many turned it all about
Years of chemicals caused her hair to fall out
She tried extensions and other sorts of hair aids
She’s told leave it alone or more will fall out in spades
Her hair short and kinky, not since her childhood
She’s forced to face her definitions of what is good
Her childhood teachings, the well meant suggestions
Every single bit of it came into question
Resentful for feeling defensive of other’s disdain
Now that her looks no longer follow the ‘main’
Realizing she herself was once guilty of the same negation
That had nothing to do with her character or her education
It was a few years more to combine mentalities
Before she was comfortable with her new realities
Now she revels in her cultural prints and chains of jute
And she’s just as gregarious in her pinstripe suit
No longer concerned with how well she blended
Notions of beauty redefined, her spirit mended
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He was my first Deity, my Lord
All I knew encircled Him
He was the sun and I followed in path
Capitulated to His moods,
Prayed for His mercy
Lived in fear of His wrath
After all he was My Father
But he bowed to a deity
Of his own
That either kept him cold and aloof
or filled with the spirit
of liquid hellish fire
of various proof
We tried to be as quiet as a church
In the middle of the night
But we never found a peace to be still
When I can be whipped awake
At any moment
For some ages old forgotten ill
And where was she you ask
When his fist and my face
Were making connections
How could she save me when she herself
Was in dire need
Of her own protection
Where do I go
This was my shelter
It was all I’ve ever known
I’m taught never to be where I’m not wanted
But what do I do when I’m a child
And where I’m not wanted is home
Well the first time I ran
I was soon returned
For I was very under aged
But I aired laundry in the process
And now both of them
Were enraged
Straight A’s brought not a praise
Chores lack brought not a reproach
His indifference became such
That I would push his buttons
With a cheeky little laugh
The only way to feel his touch
Knowing it was all
A fucked way to feel
Just added to vicious revolution
a penance to pay
For which there was never
an absolution
So when I broke out
And ran away part four
I just started living wild
No one ever said a word
what could they say
I am my father’s child
I’m told I should still love him
Pray for him
And wish him well
I say I do in the mere fact
that I simply
never wished him to hell
Some called me cold
Some called me tough
can handle any shit
But I grew up where
whining didn’t change a thing
so what was the point to it
My mother died first
and she I do miss
She did the best that she could
The next I saw him was to bury him
keeping a promise
he knew I would
He’s been gone
nearly a year
without any impact
I was an orphan
deep in my soul
long before I was in fact
====================
Mining the Memory–dVerse ~ Poets Pub Meeting The Bar :
To You,
There are several in my life, yet…
I desire only you.
What is it about you that suspends time and makes the universe stand still?
We speak on the inane of comic book characters, television sitcoms and movie trivia with as much passion as we discuss the arcane of politics, prejudice and justice and of freeing one’s mind. It is totally appropriate that the Biblical Book of Numbers holds as much sway in our conversations as the Astrological Book of Numbers.
I lay in bed and it is your voice I hear in my dreams, your touch I feel in my fantasies.
I often wonder, is it the charisma in your voice?
Or perhaps, it is the old soul that I see when I gaze into your eyes. That transports me another time when temples honored Ra and Nut, as the pyramids testified to the rules of Ramses and Hatshepsut.
Maybe it is the gentleness of your kiss introduced upon my cheek when we meet or part…
Could it be the truth behind your words? Perhaps it is the way in which you carry yourself with Dignity, with Pride, with Grace.
Or is it the fierce protector /valiant warrior that I see?
Maybe it is the honest way in which you treat people or the compassion within your heart, even as you chew someone out for nth time for the nth stupidity.
How am I so privileged to be let past the cool exterior to the warmth that you possess?
How am I so doomed to belatedly realize that the hidden warmth is your flame and I am your moth?
I am instinctively drawn to you…
You are: my Sower, my Reaper; my Hercules and my Achilles.
Shit! I’m in love with you…
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This “letter” was a near verbatim entry in a journal, from eons ago.
(Apparently, a) I don’t spell as nicely in my hand-written journals as I do when I type – who knew? and b) at 3:41am (the time noted on the entry), when no one’s looking I am one sappy as all get out romantic – please don’t tell.)
It literally was the moment I realized I was in love, down to that last line. It made me laugh to read it again, so I had to include it in the post.
I’m sitting here, just sitting here, wrapped in your memory
It’s one so deep in my heart and I really know that I should let it be
But it’s like a sad, sad love song stuck on the same sad, sad refrain
I can’t stop myself from feeling this, even though it’s all just pure pain
But here you are locked within my heart
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why
I admit I didn’t think, I’d make it through those first heartbreak days
But much time has passed and I’ve been just fine since we parted ways
I laugh at our past, brush it away, I got over the things I miss
So I do not understand why today I am so deeply feeling this
Because here you are locked within my spirit
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why
I can’t seem
I can’t seem to excise my heart from you
It’s a struggle
It’s a struggle I thought was through
But your smile, our laughter, all we had
Is right here at easy recall
Oh, we sure were worth the rise, baby
But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,
No, I just can’t redo that fall
Yet here you are locked within my soul,
As if we never said goodbye
And I just want to cry, feel like I want to die
And I don’t why
No, I don’t know why
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Trying to excise a memory
I know your eyes in the morning sun
I feel you touch me in the pouring rain
And the moment that you wander far from me
I want to feel you in my arms again
How Deep Is Your Love – Bee Gees
I feel your skin reflect the flames from the fireside
But it’s no match to heat felt deep inside
And in the fire of your kiss I’m simply undone
It’s a fervor repeated all night long
Like a pleasantly broken record, like a recorded song
Then my alarm breaks through the throes of passion
In the reality of dawn my heart start to sag
Like the air gradually seeping from an airbag
As I awaken to the new day just begun
I know your eyes in the morning sun
I try so hard to hide this – thing it’s so surreal
It asks much more of me than I deign to feel
You are so close and yet so far to attain
There’s far too many years between our ages
No reconcile of which I find assuages
All the emotions I try so hard to refrain
The greenhouse effect when I think of you
And in my heart’s downbeat knowing, you feel this too
Like in ways I simply cannot explain
I feel you touch me in the pouring rain
You have all my desires in a bottleneck
And by taking my lead you’re equally in check
I tell myself that this simply cannot be
But “To hell with convention!” I used to tout
When did this prudish side come about?
Who’s this face in the mirror that I see?
The mandates of the norm are quite daunting
What’s this humbug to deny my inner wanting?
In the moments when we touch accidentally
And the moment that you wander far from me
Behind closed eyes you are my backbone
‘T’is but a number twixt what I can condone
Won’t lie to myself, that’s it beyond my ken
The sway of emotions when you look in my eyes
And I know it’s nothing but a pack of lies
When I say I can live without you, but then
Am I willing to risk you for my pride’s shortfall?
I discover that you are what I want after all
For my eyes are wide open now and I still yen
I want to feel you in my arms again
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Me and my fave poetic form the Glosa , again.
My child you’ve asked Me to define
How do you feel a life divine
A presence in the air you breathe
It’s when My child I call you Mine
I’m in the shh-shh of the breeze
Soft flowing through the willow’s leaves
I’m in the chanting of the chimes
The faltering of buzzing bees
I’m wrapped in the most ancient rhymes
Brought through to these most modern times
I’m the warble of bluebird’s song
A testament to changing climes
I’m the magnet whose pull’s so strong
To help right you before the wrong
The crowd you handle on your own
The Single Presence in the throng
I’m in the chances that you’ve blown
I’m in the peace when you atone
I’m in the strength when fears you fight
I’m in the pleasures when you moan
I’m in each morsel that you bite
The prayers you retire at night
I am the final finish line
The practice of a life lived right
So child you’ve asked Me to define
How do you feel a life divine
It’s when My love is mixed with thine
It’s when My child I call you Mine
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Raivenne-lations 