Sunday, August 16, 2009
like, a brief synopsis of passion; emotions revealed.
I don't need a response, just want you to overstand the reason
i'll always love you.
Love is something serious.
it has no due date or warning of expiration.
Love doesnt wait for financial stability or job assurance.
Love is more than just a mere emotion,
it's not a feeling that you can just take or leave.
Love or the lack thereof can and will hurt.
Real Love isn't partial.
it doesnt have a weight criteria.
Real love doesn't do criminal or credit checks.
it doesnt know age, creed or color.
Love feels good, Damn Good.
Nothing can compare,
Love is not to be confused with lust or false pretense.
it's presence is felt and not heard;
Silent but deadly.
Real love can't be bought or borrowed.
it cant be found on bodega shelves or clothing racks.
you wont find it at the pound or your local grocer.
Love will teach you new things;
Trust, Loyalty but mostly compromise.
Real love keeps you beautiful,
There will be a new found glow in your skin, happiness.
more smiles, less tears.
Love is effortless,
there's no tutor or instructional video.
Real love is Sexy.
it can't be found in $100 sessions or beyond a strippers pole.
love isn't platinum, diamonds or gold.
Love is Pain, wisdom and Fight.
This love is serious.
It feels Like My days are numbered,
or without you there's something I missed.
This love is Grounded,
Not to be swayed or budged.
This love is real,
There is no Compare; Just Bliss.
Effortless, Unadulterated Love.
This Love is Forever.
This love will never be judgemental.
It will never boast or brag.
This Love is not self-concious,
It doesn't lack a method or reason.
This Love, loves you;
Everyday and any season.
Loving you is like PAIN without the bruising.
Wisdom with feeling.
Fighting for that reason.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Thank god for grantin' me this moment of clarity, this moment of honesty;
for ya'll to feel my truth.
Through my hard Knock Lifetime, the Gift and the Curse;
I gave you volume after volume of my work.
I built my dynasty by being one of the realest bitches out;
way before your Reasonable doubt.
I opened my beautiful brown eyes at 6:10 am, on June 7th 1988. Born to Yvette Matthews, Badd Brooklyn hairdresser with an attitude to match. I guess it was too much, it drove my father away.
Speaking of father's, His name is Avery Gordon; Military Nigga. Born&Bread Panamanian. Dark-skin stallion. Supposedly, He swept my mother off her feet; too bad the nigga doesn't have that same effect on me.
Bitter? Never. Upset, Hurt, maybe even Neglected? a little. but life goes on right?
But what if it didn't?
What if it wasn't that fuckin' easy for you to just neglect your seed?
Like there isn't an individual out there that doesn't carry your same milk chocolate complexion and space-tooth smile.
I know this sounds wierd; But do you ever think of me? real shit like, If I ever got hurt or if another nigga took your place after a while?
Did you ever think about what my grades were like, if ever went to college?
Ever stay up at night wondering if i was in good health, did i need a blood transfusion Or when was the last time a had a home cooked meal?
One time, did you look down at your watch to wonder what i was doing at that very moment wherever I was?
No disrespect to my Mother, But Fuck whatever happened between you and her.
What about me?
I didn't Cheat on you.
I never yelled at you.
Son, I never kicked you out.
Birthdays,Holidays and Vacations, Came and went.
Did you Call?
Come by and maybe we were out? even so, did you wait?
wasn't worth it?
Did you call?
Did you try?
I just wonder, Do you ever think of me?
I'm 20 years old ow.
No pissy-pew sob stories, No ghetto life.
Just the unadulterated stuggle.
did you struggle?
Don't worry now, I didn't either.
Epitome of Woman.
Whatever she did to you she made up for; atleast by me.
My Mother never allowed us to stuggle.
she worked twice as hard to make up for those christmas' and bithday's YOU missed.
When I was younger I used to think about you all the time.
I wondered about your new life.
How cool it would be to say 'my daddy' to one of my friends?
I'd imagine, how mad I would get if you told me I couldn't date til' I was 18?
How cool it would be to go to work with you?
Especially, how much easier it would've been to decipher the Good men from the Lame niggas?
Maybe i'd know how hot the sun was in Panama.
I'd probably be fluent in Spanish.
I could even imagine not being skinny because i was eating rice and beans all the time.
My aunts teaching me to dance La Bamba.
This is all a dream to me, I don't wanna wake up.
..But i gotta wake up since you weren't man enough to sign my Birth Certificate I don't even have you last name.
It's cool though I don't hate you.
I can't hate you.
I see you every morning when I look in the mirror.
I will tell you that I've met a REAL man and I know what REAL love feels like.I hope it burns you that it took a MAN years younger than you to show me that.
I just want to know, Do you ever think of me?
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
"Aye Slim, Lemme walk with you,"
I laugh because this nigga thinks it's cool to be addressing me from the other side of the street.
I guess he think's I'll walk over to him and give him some play.
Nah.I don't think so.
It's the stride of my hips, the MAC on my lips, the shine of my weave; i'm bossy.
Boss Bitch, That's me.
I walk into the Club, late as can be. No free before one line I paid my entry fee.
Switching my hips with nuff attitude, I ain't friendly; sorry if I seem rude.
It's the weed in the air, The Bouncing of my hair, the shimmer on my eyes that got you hypnotized.
Boss bitch, that's me.
I know you may wonder where I get my confidence from or why I boast with pride; I tell them it's the independence that i crave, The need to be self made.
Boss bitch, that's me.
When the haters see me, they wonder why I'm alone. If I don't have a nigga and why Im always at home; I tell them,
Niggas Lie, Bitches ain't shit. if it ain't bout money, it's irrelevant. It's the Money in my Hand, The lack of a man, The weed that i smoke makes me wanna boast.
Boss bitch, that's me.
These Nigga's wanna know me, Make me wifey status. Take me to their mom's crib, do I look average? I tell them, it's the car i drove outside, the shades that cover my eyes, the diamonds in my ring doesn't allow me to be exposed to these things. I'm Bossy.
Boss Bitch that's me.
Now don't think i'm snobby or too pretentious, let's just say i'm real and i know your intentions. How about we keep it funky and I tell you what it is.. Im bossy like a mothafucka,
This is How I Live.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
I'm Not perfect.
I lie without reason.
I Curse Uncontrollably.
Sometimes when i feel like my back is against the wall, i may show signs of weakness.
It doesn't take much for me to feel neglected.
I make irrational decisions.
I chose Bad friends.
I'm a hopless Romantic.
I am a self-diagnosed weed addict.
I care too much about me to care about others from time to time.
I can be naiive.
Im easily distracted.
I'm super emotional.
I love a Man who isn't perfect.
He lies because he think he's protecting me.
He curses like a sailor.
When he feels like his back is against the wall, he runs.
He makes me feel neglected.
He does what he wants, when he wants.
His friends are his life.
He Gives love; then takes it back.
He smokes like a chimney.
He is definetly into himself and those that can do for him.
according to him, he knows everything.
He loses his patience quickly
Sometimes i hate him.
Sometimes i feel like i'm dying without him.
He makes me cry, but he is the only one that can make me REALLY laugh.
He makes me feel inferior, yet makes me feel like there's no place he'd rather be.
He is my source of frustration, yet my only sense of solace.
Apart we may stumble; but Together we won't fall. He isn't pefect and neither am I; That's why i Love him.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
*Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up.
*If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
Let me start by sayin, BABY MOMMA is not an ambition. Ladies stop walking around calling yourselves 'so and so's babymomma.' That term should be banned from the english language. That term would be equivalent to 'NIGGER'. yeah i said it. i feel like if you consider yourself a man's babymomma instead of the mother of a child, then your the one with the issues. DON'T get madd when your 'Babydaddy' disrespects you. DON'T get mad if other females disrespect your title because, you made it that way. You disrespected your title. wait. Before you scroll down lemme explain, when your with your baby's father and his friends ask who you are and you say, 'John's* babymomma', people are gonna analyze that situation so much differently then you imagined it in your head. Now don't get me wrong, i know tons of wonderful unwed mothers BIGG UPS LADIES. and they hold their positions to the Tee. They would never let anyone call them a BABYMOMMA, they are either still in relationships with the Child's father; therefore they are girlfriends, or if not they are independent meaning alone and comfortable in this instance, not needing a man to defy YOU. I'm not saying people are aren't put into situations where they can't help but do it alone, i commend you strong individuals. Do not succumb to a title or an image because you and another individual bore life. If you were married you'd be a wife right? get it? good. I love being a woman. Especially a black woman. We run this. believe it or not, we have to make a difference. The Difference. I-nity.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.