This Darkness Deep

When I saw the break of day
I wished that I could fly away
Instead of kneeling in the sand
Catching teardrops in my hand

Norah Jones – “Don’t Know Why”

This darkness deep inside me steeps
Its grip upon my soul stings
But I don’t remember how to release
I want to cry, but tears won’t fall
Hidden deep inside past my recall
And thus it remains to my dismay
I can’t shake it in the face others’ misery
And I tell myself I should want to be free
Yet sleepless I shrugged feigning the blasé
When I saw the break of day

This darkness deep inside me steeps
It slinks around like a sentient thing
Sneering at dawn’s early light
Sometimes I remember this shouldn’t be
But then that hope is swept from me
This melancholy holding me in sway
I’m losing grip on my control
Yet I smile, I laugh, I play the role
Because I don’t know what to say
I wished that I could fly away

This darkness deep inside me steeps
Crept into my soul on silent wings
And taken up residence there
So long I’ve floundered in this brackness
I know not the way from this blackness
And when it’s more than I can stand
I buckle under feeling drained
As all my aspirations have waned
To sail, to soar, live a life grand
Instead of kneeling in the sand

This darkness deep inside me steeps
A siren’s call, my dirge it sings
And I start to think I like the sound
Wondering how long before I break
I pray the Lord my soul to take
This misery in mocking demand
For the silver lining I can’t find
Knowing it’s not just in my mind
Joy’s a thing I can’t understand
Catching teardrops in my hand

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics

What The World Needs Now

So, I was privately asked by a surprising number of people why I had not temporarily changed my Facebook profile picture in a show of support for Paris. I who am usually up on the latest Facebook fads to have not done so was surprising to them. They have a point, but this Facebook Paris profile thing is just one I could not do.

I’ve been to Paris, but even if I had never step foot in the city I still would wholeheartedly feel for what Paris is going through.  Just as I felt the outrage for London when they were bombed in 2005, often referred to as 7/7 – the date of the occurrence, just as I know both countries grieved with us here in the United States when 9/11 happened.  There is this overwhelming sense of helplessness when one is reading of such a tragedy from afar. After all what can the average Jane and Joe from so far away do right?  Granted, most of the world did not have social media, let alone the ability to easily change our profile pics on FB in 2001 or 2005, but today if we can’t really do anything else, the very least we can do, and it really is the very least, is change our profile picture to show our support for Paris right? Right.

When I noticed the changing profile pictures my very first thought was that’s nice.  Our hearts are in the right places, I do not make light of it.

I get it.

I really do.

Still, I could not help but ask myself the following – where were these near instantaneous profile pics apps of solidarity for

Where are the profile pic apps for any all of them?

A couple of months or so ago, here in the US, Facebookers were able to be “StraightOutta___” whatever they chose to be straight out of in honor/celebration of the release of the movie “Straight Outta Compton”.

A movie.

A simple movie about a rap group from the 80’s was worthy of being on our profile pictures, yet today is the 580th day since 273 Nigerian school girls were kidnapped by Boko Haram terrorists in Nigeria. 57 escaped and 219 are still missing.

Where’s their profile pic overlay app?

Some have tried to say that most of the above didn’t count because the countries have been in some form of contentious states for years, even decades now. But just because Paris is relatively brand new to this and is considered a safe place, are they more worthy than the Israeli and Palestinian who live with the threat of a bombing as a daily fact of life? Uh. no.  And please let it begin and end right here with why tragedies to brown faces get less news coverage and hold our attentions far shorter than tragedies to white faces.  I just can’t/won’t go there with that today for we are all hurting.

We cannot look at the events of Paris and not share in their grief. Nor should we ignore the horrors of one tragedy in order to acknowledge the horrors of another.  I have no qualms for the many Facebookers who have temporarily changed their profile pictures in solidarity of Paris. Again, because I understand it, I really do. I have changed my Facebook cover to better reflect the suffering seemingly everywhere, for I have no solutions or resolutions either.

It’s a jacked-up world we’re living in and the events in Paris and in Lebanon and in Nigeria… and… and… are already fading into the happier glow of the coming holidays, because it’s all we can do to hold to what little happiness can be found out here for us.

Let’s find it and try to hold on to it long past the times that go by with auld lang syne.

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Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Fall In Defeat

There's a tree-lined block
    I walk through almost daily
        A week ago awash in the vibrant hues of fall 
There's a tree-lined block
    I walk through almost daily
        Now there’s little hint of autumn at all 
Today gnarled gray fingers claw
    At dark clouded slate skies
        In quiet desperation holding on
Today gnarled gray fingers claw
    At dark cloud-dotted slate skies
        Their gold and ruby jewels nearly gone
In the ever shortening daylight of autumn
    I watch one such jewel lazily drift
        It felt as if watching a tear fall in defeat
In the ever shortening daylight of autumn
    I watch one such jewel lazily drift 
        To its final resting upon the concrete
The darkening slate skies
    Matching the charcoal streets
        A hint of winter's chill viewed
The darkening slate skies
    Matching the charcoal streets
        And my worsening mood

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Feeling the first hints of winter’s chill this week is not making for a happy Raivenne.  Missing Victoria’s weather prompt for Poetics by an hour, didn’t help, so I’m feeding two birds with this one.

Weather You Like It, or Not! dVerse Poetics

dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night : Week 160

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Open Mouth Prove Stupid

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Why I try to keep my earbuds in as long as possible while riding mass transit so exchanges like this are less likely to happen when I forget I’m not wearing shades to hide my eyes:

1. Every fat, black woman whose name you don’t know or can’t remember is *not* “Precious”.

2. The actress’ name who portrayed Precious is Gabourey Sidibe.

3. The name of the character Ms. Sidibe portrays on “Empire” is Becky.

4. Clearly you’ve forgotten that “Precious” was raped by own her father.

5. Therefore it was “Becky” having consensual sex on the show. Not Precious and not Gabourey.

Thus your exclamation of “Oh gurl, you shoulda seen Precious gettin’ it on like she think she be the real Precious like you know” displays ignorance on multiple levels and why I’m “lookin’ at choo like youse stupid.”

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Yes, the entire mini-tirade above was my response to being asked “Why you lookin’ at me like I’s stupid?” by the young lady who made the statement. I don’t think she actually expected me to answer her when I caught her off guard and responded with “Do you really want me to answer that?” and then took her to school Julia Sugarbaker style.

Let’s see how others are slicing it this week.

Slice of Life writing Challenge: Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

 

Within The Folds

Within the folds of her mind
For every seam there is assigned
A memory that is now canned
That which became her life’s brand
It girds the maze that is confined
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Dislike of coffee now enshrined
Each water fountain where she was banned
Indignities suffered firsthand
Nightmares you hope never to find
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of the mind
Is reciprocity outlined
She loves all things small or grand
Friends and family with equal demand
Even her cruel words were still kind
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Are holiday dinners all refined
Homegrown ale that she manned
To be anything thing but bland
Secret recipes for which we pined
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Where her faith was divined
Her heart the first to understand
The touch that is the Master’s hand
God’s grace was her soul defined
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Thoughts not working as designed
She sometimes simply does not understand
I’m the adult whose hide she occasionally tanned
She’s slowly losing the ties that bind
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
An unfair fate, to one who shined
Now a fading cerebral quicksand
All that it held and could withstand
Just enough there to remind
Within the folds of her mind

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dverse

dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night – 159

When It Matters

vin

So the above image has slowly been making its rounds across the internet and as a friend of mine duly noted last night —  “Being male isn’t entirely a matter of birth, but.. yeah“.

As I have seen that quote in a couple of places this year, lately as a tagline for a men’s fashion blog on Instagram, I decided to do a little digging and found the following:

Being a male is a matter of birth. Being a man is a matter of choice.

This is credited mostly as a “Coleism” by Edward “Ed” Cole founder of the Christian Men’s Network. Cole is nearly as infamous in christian circles for his quotes and witticisms, as the late, great Yogi Berra was infamous in baseball for his. However, Cole and in various places online credits the italicized quote above to evangelist Ben Kinchlow of the 700 Club, another christian organization for those not familiar with it. This explains the initial thinking behind the first line. Though to be fair, acknowledgement, respect and acceptance of a person’s chosen gender identity when it differs from the birth identity is still something relatively new to modern society and the original quote certainly predates our glacially gradual acceptance of such.

Therefore the pictured quote, if it is indeed a statement from Vin Diesel, I conclude is more than likely his unknowingly paraphrasing the original. Or possibly, a fan of Diesel’s saw the quote floating about online and attributed it to him via creating this photo quote.

All of which, in Life’s funny little way of doing things, brings me to this morning…

A regular Tuesday morning rush commute. A young guy on train, legal drinking age – maybe is humming along with his music relatively quietly until he suddenly decides the song on his iPhone was something to be listened to by all of us, whether all of us wanted to hear it or not.  Understandably, there several objections to this and most emphatically let him know. Embarrassed or emboldened by the public chastisement, he does what any man-child brought to task sometimes do. He starts singing a different song, when it was obvious that the first song had not finished. But this one was clearly meant as a bird flip to us all as it contained explicit language. With his head, back eyes closed and head phones he had effectively tuned us out. Unfortunately, two seats down from him was a tyke who, as most youngsters that age are prone to do, managed to echo every other dirty word and phrase the young man uttered from the song.  The little boy’s mother was into her own music and oblivious to her child until a woman sitting next to her, brought it to her attention. She gently chastised her son for saying bad words (again), but understood where the real blame lay. She reached over the woman next to her and tapped the young man on the leg.

“Hi. I get you want to enjoy your music, but must you sing out loud with it? There are children on the train who don’t need to be hearing all that. ”

An older woman standing next to me grunted her opinion, clearly not a fan of his behavior as well. He rolled his eyes at both women claiming he’s a grown and can do what he wants.

Sometimes, I think I have a mild form of Tourette syndrome that’s activated by abject stupidity as a snort of disbelief came forth. In for a penny… as they say so I continued. “Just because you’re  a male who has reached legal adulthood does not make you a grown man.”

“You saying I ain’t a man?”

“I’m saying being a male is a matter of identity, being a man is a matter of reaching an age where you know you can do what you want, but being grown gentleman is a matter of choice in knowing when it sometimes matters not to. ”

It did not magically resolve the situation on the train, but who knows as the young man exited at the next stop with much attitude, but without another word or song.  I mentally smiled realizing what I just said was a take on the Diesel conversation last night. So now I guess I am the first to quote my friend by paraphrasing them all  Glenn, Diesel, Cole and Kinchlow.

Timing is everything.

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Let’s see how other’s are slicing up their day —

Slice of Life – Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

 

Yourself First

I was conversing with a friend a few months back, stating while things were far from ideal in my life right now, I am happy with my life in general and with myself  as a person. I was completely taken aback when she said she didn’t think she has ever been truly happy with herself, ever.  I understand it is human to have times when we may not necessarily like ourselves, but to not have been happy – ever? That is deep.  It also explained a lot about her, which was kind of why I was having the conversation in the first place, but that’s her story.

Since that conversation, the subject of personal happiness has come up several times since. Again, I’m continually surprised by how many of my friends are secretly, or not so secretly in some cases, unhappy, with their lives, with themselves. Many don’t, refuse to or simply can’t see the self loathing that is the basis of much of their unhappiness.

Whether you realize or not, It is very hard to love life when you don’t love yourself.

I spent years not being miserable, unable to get along with people, until I finally realized my difficulties with other people were really my difficulties with myself.  I’ve carried my (un)fair share of self shame, unwarranted guilt, inferiority, rejection, etc., internalized it all into a lack of self-love and acceptance. The infamous They say fake it until you make it. Well, I faked the funk well with those who didn’t know, or didn’t care, enough to look deeper. And then self-flagellated as to why didn’t they care enough to look deeper? Because I wasn’t worth it? Charming little cycle of viciousness ain’t it?

There’s a boat load of things I likely would have handled much better when I was younger, had I asked for help at an earlier stage. I told myself I was being strong, I’ve got it handled. Bullshit. I was too weak to ask for help because I did not feel I was worthy of receiving it. If the first step of solving any dilemma is admitting to yourself you’re in one, then the second step most certainly is voicing your need help and the third is accepting that help and actually helping yourself.  It’s a long road, often a tough one, but it is a worthy one. Sometimes you have to put yourself first to get there, and that may mean, reminding others that you are worthy of personal happiness not because of what they allow you to have only after their me. me. me-s, but because YOU give yourself permission to be happy.  There’s a difference between selfish and taking time to take care of yourself. And part of taking care of yourself is making sure you’re doing enough to love yourself for yourself. Not when you reach some arbitrary goal, or if something happens to you – love who you are, as you are right this moment.

Only you can do that for you.

happy 2

As I recently posted on Facebook…

happy 1

Because goodness, and every one else for that matter, knows I love me some me now!

It’s really an old adage, but to paraphrase Rupaul who has made it popular in all her blunt glorious sass,  “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anybody or anything else?”

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Let’s see how others are slicing through life…

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Muse Away

You say I astound and tease you, tell me how?
You have withheld yourself from all that I allow.

Giving baroque words flourish; this you’ve refused to nourish

I have called to you on the veranda on warm spring day
I was the ripple of warmth felt in a snow drift’s pattern sway
Though you held an umbrella drops of me hit you anyway
Yet you’ve discarded all words that I’ve begged for display
Love, what has caused this rift? Why deny yourself my gift?

Know that only for a select few, I share this I’ve given to you

What fear has triumphed so much that you cannot heed
That which for lucky others is the very blood they bleed
I give unto the language of lamentations desperate need
And word the story of a triumph over a dastardly deed
How oft’ you silenced this voice? As though you have choice!

Again you have me in hand, say the words; make them grand

Deny me not, I am your muse, know this passion will last
The days to chase me away is now a thing of the past

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dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night : Week 158

Adventures in Eavesdropping while Dining…

It’s 4:30 in the afternoon. A few friends and I are having a nosh at a local diner when the following unfolds at an adjacent table…

Woman: How is your mac & cheese made, is it baked or…?

(Menu states baked mac & cheese, by the way, I was enjoying the dish as this unfolded.)

Waiter (clearly perplexed by her what color is George Washington’s white horse type question): It’s baked.

Woman: Is it good?

(Because a waiter is ever going to tell her it’s the most foul stuff on earth, even if it’s the absolute truth.)

Waiter: Honestly, I’ve never had it (Wait what?)

Woman: Never had it here or ever? (Okay, an unusual, but valid question.)

Waiter: Ever.

(Yes, I clutched my imaginary pearls. And then went all “I’m Sorry Miss Jackson” Ever, ever? Ever? in my mind. )

Woman: Should I chance it?

Waiter (deadpan): Well, I haven’t seen it kill anyone – yet. (Yes, he had a dramatic pause.)

Of course that would be the moment I choke on my mac & cheese. No, I mean, full-fledged water streaming from my eyes, pounding on my back, drawing all attention in the diner choke.

Woman (understanding that it’s their exchange that has caused the choke): Sounds delicious, I’ll have it.

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Let’s see how others are slicing it up….

Slice of Life Challenge : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Memories On My Mind

Those memories, times I’m sure we’ll never forget
Those feelings we can’t put aside
For what we had, sometimes I tried to understand
But it’s so heavy on the mind

The Commodores / Still

I watch a golden leaf fall
Autumn’s glory starting to call
And I’m trapped in the past, a moment set
The heart stops the clock time has met
Those memories, times I’m sure we’ll never forget

It all comes flooding anew in my heart
As though Time itself had not ripped us apart
Memories from when we lain astride
Each whisper, each touch freshly decried
Those feelings we can’t put aside

We weren’t perfect, but each grew stronger
I didn’t expect forever, but certainly longer
Only to have it gone at Fates command
These things I came to learn first-hand
For what we had, sometimes I tried to understand

Oh what I would give to have time slip
And once more have the taste of your lips
The Fates are almost never so kind
And with the moment gone I continue my daily grind
But it’s so heavy on the mind

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Using a modified glosa for a poetic rendering of a moment relived in time.

dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night 

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The Daily Post – Daily Prompt : 3/3/16 Longing