sidewalk love

[october.30.2007.6:21pm]

"we have an untitled love"
-thee genius




concrete corners
drenched in piss;
debris scattered amidst,
but its the path
we choose
to walk upon;
trekking forward,
carrying rough times
on our backs;
life expecting us to
see things in mere
colors of glee,
but here,
on our sidewalk,
we side step
bullshit and
step on love that
was left to rot.

interlocked in
an embrace we
are connected
despite the traffic
of love that was lost.

brown flesh

[october.29.2007.1:59am]

"your precious, precious, precious, baby dark skin tone..."
-lauryn hill



a genesis manifested
through low self-esteem
brought to existence
from walks upon
concrete sidewalks
of the streets of
acceptance of self.

lying idly in
her skin she
illuminates the crevices,
curves, slopes,
valleys of the stretch
of brown that consists
of her.

naked her love of
self is;
its unclothed, bare;
theres no need to
shy away from
such joy;
a joy found
within the depths of
one's soul.

caress with
hands meant to
explore and offer
pure intimate bliss.

fingertips shall tread
softly;
touch with caution;
enter with passion
with an intention
to inhale the beauty of
a rare canvas.

paint your essence
onto such a brown
surface;
create art worth admiring;
create love worthy of
reciprocation.

shes content with
her image;
molded from an
aesthetically inclined
force's vision;
gladly residing
in her flesh.

Luna

[october.23.2007.8:57am]


"the natural satellite of Earth"
-dictionary.com



pieces of
flesh scraped
away;
sandpaper rakes
itself across
arms used to
shield an undying
soul forced to
retreat in its own
hell of darkness;
left to tend to itself.

to survive, it ate
love that was never
meant to manifest;
love that would
quickly be swept under
the rug of her memory.

as your mother,
she wasnt able to conceive
the lies he told her.
so she rejected you
in an attempt
to dull the reality
of the engagement soon to
take place.

he burns
in his cell of security
only to further
himself into regression.

grabbing your arms,
he took you with him;
a true display of
his selfishness without
remorse.

your function
of orbiting the
Earth has become
obsolete.

to think he
called himself
the sun;
a sun that was
incompetent
of radiating its
light to seep through
the most sinister of
times;
unable to corrode
the existence
of grim eclipses of
acknowledgment.

a sun serving
as nothing more
than a catalyst;
walking away
unaffected,
leaving her
to sweep you
clean from her
memory,
but erase you,
she has not.

Earth lives
waiting in her
own cell of guilt
and failure;
she awaits
her new moon.

she
recalls her present
to be synonymous to
your death:

flesh being
scraped away from
arms used to
shield an undying
soul.

saliva swapping

[october.22.2007.10:36am]



mouths meet
and as an invite,
lips part wide enough
to display that soft
pink muscle hidden
inside.

i cringe because then i
think:

will he slob all over me?
is my tongue going to
be bitten?
or is he just an aggressive
saliva swapping beast?

in my mind,
this act of intimacy
should play itself
out as a dance;
a dance shared between
two rhythms of
a pair's exchange
of sensuality.

it has a flavor,
a distinct taste.

tongues should
swirl in the mouth
of the other;
exploring in a sense,
while contributing
to the heightened
sexual suspense.

but somehow,
with every person
its different and
i know not what to
expect.

i just hope my
tongue isnt bitten
and im not too
thrilled about
being slobbered all
over.

thats not a kiss.
its the swapping of
ooey
gooey
spit...

the drift end

[october.20.2007.10:44pm]



im dormant with you.

my emotional,
sensual,
affectionate state
cant be accessed
because of
what ive been
allowing my
psyche to contemplate.

i believe that i
can feel this world
and all of its matter
and space.

and i can feel us

drifting,
spreading,
never seeming
to catch up to this
gap that continues
to separate us
because you are
here and i havent
reached there.

so in simplistic
respects for the message
at hand to be conveyed,
we will remain as we
are,
nothing more,
nothing less.

ill forever protect
you in my heart,
but you will forever be
replaced.

starvation at sea

[october.17.2007.12:44pm]




your emaciated frame
calls me to offer you
subsistence for i
cant hold ground
beside you and not
give you what your
soul so desperately needs.

i can hear your
stomach roar with
hunger as though it
seems as if its slowly
eating away at
its emptiness.

because it cant digest
what you have mistaken
for nourishment:
your childish antics,
your leftover,
borrowed self-love,
your misdirected self-hate
and ultimately,
your negligence of
self-worth.

but here i stand next
to you as you drift out
to sea
and i wonder why
youre in such strong
refusal of what im
offering.

then i remember
when it was i,
starving a starvation
of self-discovery
during a time i thought
thered be no finding me.

you have
the food within
yourself to survive,
just acquire an appetite
for enlightenment
and then youll be free.

as i remain to
hold my ground
by your side,
ceasing my attempts to
force feed,
your emaciated frame
continues to deteriorate
under the sharp winds
at sea...

pillow talk

[october.11.2007.10:59am]


"lay your head on my pillow. here you can be yourself..."

- alicia keys



when he looks at me,
his eyes pierce through
my hard exterior.

i can feel him read my
thoughts because theyre
written across my face,
etched in my experession,
and marqueeing behind
my eyes.

he took the time
to ask me what was
bothering me.
he so adamantly
wanted to hear
me out.

intently he listened,
understood
while he rested
his head on
his pillow
with my head
laying gently
on his chest.

butterfly kisses were exchanged
as we whispred to
one another cute pet names
and one our souls became.

felt so good to be held,
for i allowed my feelings
to guide me as our
minds went for a sensual walk
as we lay in his
bed this night
immersing ourselves
in our private
conversation
called pillow talk.

photo: christina|caption: thee genius

[october.11.2007.12:04am]

when it snows,
it comes thick
in white sheets of crisp
wet flakes.

it scatters itself
everywhere blanketing
the world under a cloak
of white.

so he makes his way
through the center of the street
to a destination only
he knows of.

his path winds
and turns,
curves with
the cleanliness of the
sleet.

his forefront is
sharp;
his background blends.

and there he walks,
on the path that
bends.

ignacio

love:sucker

[march.20.2007.8:26am]

im sitting here in front of the computer with a stuffy nose, sinus pressure and an itchy throat; all gifts of spring...

mnkee is sleeping, tussling in the covers that wrap him and all i can do is feel lightheaded that im here in his pressence, in his wake of pure passion and ginuine genius.

ive come to the realization that
i ♥ him
and somehow in my soul, i find comfort with the
fact that i fell for none other than him.

im so happy and im learning all the tiny steps that come along with growing with someone. we spend plenty of time with one another and its all a piece of our meshing process. he wants me as char'nae and theres no room for pretending. he illuminates the darkest corners that i wish to hide.

with him,
i can no longer run from myself;
its a race that should never be ran.
and slowly but surely,
hes showing me that there is a light in me
that im obligated to allow to shine,
despite those who wish to put it out.
and they cant because
its my innnerglow.

im wading in new waters here; waters that have dangerous under currents and calm ripple effects and im okay with this. hes shown me who he is and im teaching him that its okay to be himself. ill always be here as his friend to comfort him if nothing else.

a new chapter, i fresh page, new ink is now being used to fill this book of mine and literally, hes a character ive created in the folds of my imagination who would perfectly suit me...

and he does.

so as im wrestling with this stuffy nose, no longer will i grant fear and pride the chance to deprive me of someone and something as great and liberating as love from such a real individual.

call me crazy, but
ive taken off the training wheels
and
im wearing no seatbelt,
no helmet,
no pads...

for im willing to crash once again with him and proudly fall victim to being his love:sucker...

can
october
soon be transformed
into
november
and so then
november
can be born into
december












'cause then
ill be
free

[october.10.2007.8:18am]

"You don't even recognize the ways you hurt me, do you?"
-rihanna




here i am, behind the computer screen again
recording peices of my life into this blog thing
and honestly, its one of my most valuable
"posessions" in my time now.

for breakfast, i eat hot tamales. you know,
the usual:

toss six or eight of them bad boys
into my mouth to get the ultimate cinnamon
burn.




but what really brought me here this morning
is a dream.

i dont remeber it in full detail.
all i know is that im afraid;
afraid hell hurt her beyond belief.
and i laugh at her stupidity,
but shit like this happens when a person
searches outside of her or himself hoping
to obtain self-love.

shes scaring me because shes living her
life as a pendulum. hes hanging her
over the edge of the cliff.
every so often, he threatens
to throw her over,
then plays her close
and apologizes;
its his psychological contraint.

but someday,
hell decide to send her
down that steep,
perilous end.

he hit her.
i felt it.
thats what woke me up.
because i wont settle for
punches.
choking of the neck
is what made me go.



so why cant she leave?
why does she keep going
back to him?
subjecting herself to
being used,
misused,
abused,
and not being gave a damn
about?


i hate that ive laughed at you for
living your life the way you do.

and i apologize.





i cant give up on
you just because you have
given up on yourself.

thy words shall tread softly

[october.9.2007.11:03pm]

"i talk sharp like a razor blade under the tongue..."

-tariq of the roots crew



abrasive i can be.
hostile my words may sound.
and i may throw my
know-it-all 'tude in your face.

you challenge me,
a battle i will give.

attack me,
and emoitional
bruises you will
retreat with.

all in all,
i will win.

i dont strive for an
argument,
most are simply
miniscule disagreements.


and somehow
there are those who
say i twist thier
words,
my opinion(s)
somehow make thiers
seem inferior.

and maybe this is the case
at hand.

for there will never
be a "medium"
in which my tongue
speaks truth.

'cause quite honestly,
i dont seek to hurt anyone's
feelings,
to make anyone
feel dumb,
subordinate;
its just my quick
wit.

so get wit
or get lost.

photo: christina|caption: thee genius

[october.7.2007.5:32pm]




i commend such bravery.
for he doesnt know of the world
in which hes in reach of.
...
invariably a world
that will reject him
on end.
...
the innocence, contentment
and peace of a child's mind;
...
imagine the images in his head.
...
does he aspire to create
a better life for all of us?
one thats void of violence,
war,
hatred,
prejudice
and all of
the relatives of
injustice?
...
and silently,
i want him to succeed.
...
but i will not
voice such a desire,
because im too
much of a coward
to do so,
for i wont take the blame if he fails
such a feat.
...
its frightful to think
that we grow from the beauty of this
.
..
...
to the ugliness of guilt
and cowardice.

boroughing to the boroughs.

[october.4.2007.10:07am]

"making it in the slow lane toward someplace i badly need to go."

-richard ford



ever get the feeling,
the feeling of displacement,
that youve been dealt the
wrong hand of cards,
a deal you have failed to change?
the mood of being stuck in a rut.
or better yet,
that somewhere else,
on some other city's sidewalk,
underneath another sky,
your name is being called.

first it begins as a whisper.
no louder than the soft purring of
a napping kitten...


then the amp is plugged in.
and all you can hear
is the repetition of your name
over a lil jon and the eastside boys' beat.



if you cant relate,
just hear me out.


east oakland.
north oakland.
west oakland.
east oakland.
antioch.
the "early" elk grove.
sacramento
and all its sub-cities, towns.


this is my map.
where ived lived.
where ive been.

and my own personal trips dont
suffice for the life im seeking.


i just get this feeling that i belong
somewhere else.
its calling me.
tempting me.
and im going to give in soon.

im just in the slow lane,
no traffic,
just in a car that doesnt accelerate
past 60 miles per hour.

and my rearview mirror is broken.
fcuk whats behind me.


and here i come.
as i make my way
through this life i
call dull
and not fit for
an insight like mine.


or maybe its me.

i look at life through a
telescope.
and i want to experience what i see
through that magnifying glass;
i want to experience its grandeur.


so little hilly town of
moraga wont suffice,
pacify me.


i dont wanna be queen of these hills.
i wanna run the city.
and thats where im headed.


in the core of
the rotten apple.


and ill gladly eat
my slice of the
American (rotten apple) Pie.

untitled: for reasons i dare not speak

[october.4.2007.9:17am]

" i know i'm imperfect and not without sin, but now that i'm older, all childish things end
and tell him..."

-lauryn hill




in the past, i couldnt speak his name.
for it was something i held sacred,
close to my heart,
embedded in my mysterious self.

when words are voiced,
there comes manifestation.
and you were an idea i loved
to occupy my mind with,
but
i lacked the mind capacity,
the compassion,
the experience to
know what i know now:
of what will forever be
of us.


some may think it strange,
but were strange fruit;
were of the same tree,
the same branch
and essentially,
of the same stem,
taste and fruitfulness.




we can go days without speaking.
weeks without emailing.
and soon come seen,
years without speaking.

and this is only
permitted amongst us.
'cause we know how
one belongs to the
other in the shift of times
and the lines of the sublime,
through the
fray of our own lives.

im just geeked to be seeing
you again.

and yeah,
im still that "little girl" to
you,
but you respect me as an adult,
as you always have
and you love me as a person.

a gap of 14 counts of 365 days and some odd 366
hasnt kept us apart now.

and it never will.
'cause according to me,
its arbitrary...



and so is
our "title,"

'cause we have yet to
have one;
this shit is
okay by me.



so once again...
"tell him i love him"

-lauryn hill