Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Riddle Me This....

Wasted time spent arguing and debating with simpletons. Yes I am confident in my own abilities to articulate my perception of the truth. I debated a seemingly simple concept with someone that claimed my strategy merely consisted of using big words to argue my point. Funny how some people think that they are always right and even will be bold enough to tell you how you feel. She told me I just didn't know it yet. Without any self control I laughed in her face; a laugh so good I could feel it in my toes and if only she knew how stupid she sounded, i'm sure she would've been laughing with me.

I don't pretend to be the smartest person, but I am capable of logical reasoning supported by facts. As a result, I feel like anyone that can't comprehend the words that I spit at them, doesn't deserve my time or a decent explanation. I talk to some people and honestly I believe I'm being punk'd. But nonetheless its just more ordinary people giving me migraines.

Sometimes I wish we could institute a standardized test for public speaking and anyone that scored below a certain point would be restricted to their living quarters. I HATE people that much!!! Hate is such a strong word, but it fits perfectly.

I Should Be Studying...

I know that I should be studying but when the mood hits you, as a writer you should take pen to pad and let your mind free itself from captivity. I think more than the average person mostly because I spend a lot of time alone. When the noises subside and quiet is all that you have left, you'd be surprised and what you hear.

My fears resonate and quickly grow from small concerns to life shattering decsions and I find myself quickly becoming a victim all over again. I am strong enough to beat just about anything, but the scariest thing I have come into contact with would be my memories. Memories that are constant reminders of every mistake and every good thing that has gone bad. Memories represent years of regret and oppression. I am shackled and chained to an imaginary hurdle that I have yet to discover how to escape it.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Sexually Satisfied

Looking for him to invade my space

I open myself

He swallows the knowledge I throw at him

And in return he gives me a taste

He caresses my breast with a swift stroke of his hand

His touch beckons me to his every demand

My ghetto wordsmith plays chopsticks on my mind

Working his way line by line to a predetermined destination...a predetermined time

Before thoughts that were his genuinely become mine

Pleasuring me comes first

Riddled with metaphors and similes

He uses like and as in the same paragraph

Simultaneously and it has nothing to do with the tightness of my jeans

He tickles my pink ribbon with hyperbolic dreams

The things he says are never as they seem

I am his toy; he playfully tantalizes and taunts me

Leaving me hanging on each word

Whispering sweet nothings into my ear

"Can you hear me?"

I embrace him and release more than just my fear

I beg for more as he goes deeper

Deeper into here; my core

Being more than just a sexcapade

I let him take me there

Reaching out I pull him into me

And 2 somehow equals one

We reach our seemingly infinite peak

A voyage that likes to touch but only mandates speech

Tears fall from my eyes until my truth becomes yours

The truth that what you share with me takes me on the greatest high

Yet I escape the dangers of lust and promiscuity

Your juices become mine

We produce offspring

Reading and writing between the lines

An exchange of the minds

That leaves you and I sexually satisfied

It's easy to choose death, but it's hard to choose life

So it's the moment of truth. The moment that will forever ever change my future. I sit here at an empty table with nothing more than my laptop, my frappuccino, my favorite song on repeat and a vivid imagination to enhance my memories.

Today I listened to a song and it took me to a special place. A place I haven't been in so long and a place I hope one day I'll reside permanently. We are all a reflection of our pasts. Whether it's been good or bad, it has inevitably shaped each and every one of us into a person different than who we would've been if it didn't happen. Today, I sit here and type one of my deepest darkest secrets knowing that I will be embraced by few and judged by many; still I open up to audience. Collectively you are comprised of people who have walked in shoes worse than mine, equal to mine or better than mine, yet I feel that everyone can take something different from what I am about to share. You will come to realize that secrets from our past don't have to be the end of our futures. Life begins with love. You gotta love yourself before you can expect anyone else to love you. And if you don't love you, you are in for one hell of a ride. I'm just learning to love me, but it's never too late.

This is the story of why I live.

Life. Such a sensitive topic that time and time again has been approached as a glass half empty philosophy (or even half full for my optimists). I am what I like to call an optimistic pessimist. LOL Allow me to explain myself if you will. I was born a happy little girl. I prided myself on being that smart girl with straight As that you could always turn to when you didn't know the answer to a riddle...shit or even life. But my life is nothing like I imagined it would be or anything like it could have been. Life is all about how we choose to respond to things and not so much what happens to us.

Most of you that have been following me know that I started drinking at the young age of 10. How do you trace back a single event that would lead you down a road of unhappiness? I drank. I assumed that identity and I became that girl. It started slow and progressed into a serious problem for me. Iceland was great! But life after Jersey wasn't quite as pleasing to me.

At my worst, I was getting wasted before homeroom and again at lunch. It was all that I felt I could do to make the days go by. My parents were clueless. They didn't know I was a drunk and they don't know what I am about to reveal. By my sophomore year in high school I was drinking Everclear and just about anything I could get my hands on. I had earned the nickname Alkie (for obvious reasons). I was depressed. So depressed I actually thought I could drink my way out of it. I laugh at the thought now as I look back on where I once was mentally.

I remember days I would wake up crying because I didn't die in my sleep. Could you imagine being 16 and hating life so much that you not only cried yourself to sleep every night, but you also cried in the morning because you knew what the day would hold for you? The same agonizing torture day and night. A torture that I would've done anything to escape.

I wanted to KILL myself. I popped pills and eventually settled for cutting myself. Yes I was a cutter. For those of you that aren't familiar with cutting, it's actually a pretty common phenomenon among our young people. Many say its a cry for help. Its the coward's suicide attempt. Of course many people eventually graduate on to committing suicide, but most of us are lucky enough to get help. And although I would never advocate cutting, oh how I can remember how soothing it was to cut myself. How soothing it was to take the power into my own hands. How soothing it was to control the pain that was hurting me rather than to just sit back and do nothing.

I scarred my body. I mostly used an exact-o knife that my mom had for sewing. Its a long cylinder with a sharp razor at the top. I can remember running into my room and locking the door and rocking in my bed sliding that blade across my skin as tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt better by doing this. That was me wanting to be brave enough to press down hard; to cut the right way. It was my attempt to escape the urge to crash my car off a bridge or into oncoming traffic.

My thighs hid my much that I enlisted my hands to participate in my redemption. I distinctly remember the day I forgot my gloves and this girl from school saw the scars on my hands and threatened to report me if she saw it again. Was I scared straight?

To be honest I cannot remember. That was the year I got alcohol poisoning and my memory still has gaps in it. I just know that after the incident my junior year, I could no longer stomach any liquor. So I did the only thing I could; I quit. And the cutting...well I don't know how I moved past that but I did. And I never mentioned it again. Well...until my freshman year in college when I was assigned a group project on self-mutilation and decided that I wouldn't let my story go unheard. I googled self-mutilation and found so many people who were just like me. People who knew what it felt like to hurt and how it felt to take control of the pain. That year I stood in front of a room of college students and explained how I felt and what led me to thinking cutting was all that was out there for me. My teacher pulled me aside after class and with tears in her eyes she thanked me for sharing my story; she thanked me for having the courage to share those painful words.

When life throws us that almost fatal blow, we must have the strength and courage to pick up the pieces and move forward.

So why do I live you are probably still wondering? In the simplest of terms, I live because they didn't. I live for my family that got their lives taken away so early: my maternal grandmother, her youngest son, my mom's only nephew, and my cousin who was my best friend. I live for them because they can't live for themselves. I live for every person that has ever been victimized and made a full recovery. I live for every person that felt the way I did, but didn't get help; every suicide victim. Every life lost; everyone fighting in Iraq. They are fighting for me so I can't make it in vain. It's easy to choose death, but its hard to choose life.

I choose to live. I choose to put myself out there in hopes that someone feeling real down realizes I've been lower and managed to rebound successfully. We must face the past before we can move into the future. This is something that will not hold me back. This is something that happened and doesn't dictate my future, it just reminds me of the past.

So this is nothing more than my "buck twenty five" or $1.25 for those who still don't get it. I have too much to say for $.02. To inspire is one of the greatest gifts man can give to someone else. Imagine having the power to make someone feel invincible like they can take on the world.

I share my mistakes so you don't have to experience what I went through. My life is an open book; experience my story with me. This journey was intended for the both of us...and it all starts with love.

Friday, October 9, 2009

The Best That Ever Lived

They always said bad things came in twos.
So July 4th 2004 Mikey met his fate
And 8 months later to the day I lost you.
My life forever changed
Like hurricanes rain destruction
I rained agony & pain
So bad sometimes my heart stopped
Trying to figure out why you're no longer here
I point blame
Creating fictitious reasons to hate those close to you in your name
Constantly awakened abruptly from my sleep like it was just a dream
Tried to laugh away my sorrow
And thus the invention of what I called the suicidal gene
This urge that we feel is real
And life's this bitch that pierces your soul and cuts through your body like steel
And I know you were stronger than me
So the fact that you chose death over life
Is the kinda truth that kills
The kinda truth that finds me awake at 4 AM...writing if you will
An agony that leaves salt stains on my cheeks
And as I stand here in front of you
Listen to these words as I speak
Because they are more than just words
They are the collective collaboration of my sweat and tears coupled with grown woman fears and a life filled with pain
They are my story
It is my truth
It is the realization that how you live your life is completely up to you
It's knowing that in your darkest hour you have everything to gain and nothing left to lose
It is accepting that a bruise on your heart is nothing more than a bruise
And don't get it twisted
I write this for me not you
Because I see you in everything I do
Whether its hours of star gazing
Or searching for clouds that look like you
I see the truth and it hurts
A pain that I could never really describe with words
So I hide my tears and disguise how you see me
Riddling poetic words til all you see is this
My self proclaimed tribute to the best that ever lived

Who Will Remember You

My world spins like whirl winds
Wondering will I ever get any ends
And when the hell my happy ending begins
My tears bring rain
That floods what's left of my sanity
I wonder what could it be?
I stare at my reflection aimlessly
But the image I see staring back just isn't me
My fake hair, fake eyes & big tits
Are nothing like who I use to be
Yearning for the intellect I no longer see
Whispering similarly to he loves me he loves me not
Til the sun sets and I'm just as alone as I was on my born day
But today I learned to realize
Broken dreams & heartache turn
Week days into weak days
And the words I speak just don't seem to resonate like they used to
Loud words fall upon deaf ears
From boisterous lips
As I clumsily stumble upon the realization that life is as good as it gets
You see...when the air inside your lungs cease to exist
Death is all you're left with
And maybe everything you complained about isn't necessarily shit
From the job you didn't get
To the husband or wife & the 2.5 kids
And if that damn picket fence still wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Like footprints in the sand
Your memory will one day fade
And without physical artifacts,
Who will remember you?
Who will remember your words?
Unheard by so many but imagine
You buried and gone, but we can still hear your dreams
Calling out from beyond our world
And no matter how scary or sweet death may seem
You'll be far from a distant memory
I accept in life, there are things that I sometimes forget
But you, I will always carry with me

Sunday, September 13, 2009

The Lies We Tell...

Reality check! People love to look down their noses at people who they think are lower than them. We see it every day, but occasionally it reaches a stage to where I think it needs to be addressed. At some point in life the world's population was either young, stupid, or a combination of both. This mentality that you can fuck up and get forgiveness but are unwilling to forgive other people is one of the major flaws of our nation.

Life is a constantly evolving hypocrisy. The judicial system is sometimes considered a joke because within it, there is no consistency, but the reality is that in today's society it's completely possible for serious crimes to carry a lighter penalty than minor offenses.

I jokingly posted a tweet today to Chris Brown (@MechanicalDummy)where I suggested that perhaps he should have thrown bullets at Rihanna instead of physically putting his hands on her. It was all in good fun, but the point I was trying to achieve is that it's become socially acceptable for rappers to throw bullets at each other and there is little to no backlash. I do not condone violence in any way, shape or form, but to look down at one person who behaved violently without a weapon but to openly accept his peer's violent behavior with an automatic weapon sends out a contradictory message. When is enough, enough? This is the precise reason that the world hates Americans. We walk around so smug like our shit doesn't stink like everyone else's. News Flash****It does!!!!

I just ask that you look at yourselves before you stand at someone else's judgement. You are not perfect and neither is he or she. Time to wake up and make a change; a change that will make a better world for us all.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Metaphorically Speaking I Died...

I try to go about my day and memories
Flash like lights
On runways
And I run too far away
When this day comes from distant plains
And the way we were
I wish I could steer away from the pain and hurt
But I wasn't ready to let go
And you got snatched away
Like band-aides on wounds and children from homes with futures doomed
And I...still remember the day our minds met
Like rhymes riddled with mazes I found myself in a daze
Wondering was this the truth
Or just another seemingly unimportant phase
Connecting across an imaginary distance
Visible to everyone but us
Like a fairytale I became engulfed
Covered in imaginary strings and your imaginary mystical dust
I gave myself to you openheartedly
I allowed you to take me there
Stimulating more than my mind and needing more than your words to speak
Calling my body and soul every name that made me continuously melt til I fell weak
And together we made sparks fly
So intense it burned
Shaping this interesting transition of love and irony
And his story became mine
Metaphorically speaking I died
More than one time
And his every word breathed life back into my limp unimaginative mind
So now...I write alone
Contemplating where did it all go wrong
Trying to figure out how I became the stranger lurking in his home
Betrayed like I was nothing more than an uninvited guess
Things went from cloud 9 to a rather large mess and
I gathered my belongs
Nothing more than me writing at my best
And did the only thing I could...
I left
Stumbling upon artifacts from those crazy days
I digress to that girl I used to be
Embracing my lazy ways and lackadaisical phase
Wanting nothing more than for him to acknowledge me
The way it used to be back when I hated amnesia and loved my memories
And then it hits me
I'm a queen and a prize and its him that doesn't get me

So this is actually a piece that started by the guy and then I changed and added to it. We initially agreed to collaborate on our poetry so I saved a lot of our online convos and mini poems that we shared. Hope you enjoy it. Comments...follows...let me know something. I love feedback.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Hey You Dumb Bitch...Fall The Fuck Back...

Precisely why I don't fuck with that many bitches. LOL Don't get mad at me because youz a weak bitch and I'm about my grown woman bidness. This is a conversation that she initiated mind you because I guess she was bored and wanted to text me. Then she got all in her feelings. I don't take shit from no man. She's been fuckin the same guy raw for years while crying to her friends about how she KNOW he cheating and this, that, and the third. Recently she found out he got another girl pregnant and she was mad at him because she had been fuckin him raw even though she already knew that nigga was steppin out. But you trying to play me cuz this other nigga talked slick to me once and I got rid of his ass. GTFOHB!!! I'm in a good place. She prolly stayed with that diseased ridden baby daddy of hers just so she could get dicked down on the regular. Congrats. You got community dick. Bitch you ain't no better than those other hoes that he's fuckin. Kick rocks!!! Please and thank you.

Her: Im shockd u aint gave him da draws again
Me: No offense but I'm not you. Lol a nigga gets one time to disrespect me then I'm done
Her: What nigga? No offense. So why u keep talkn 2 him then
Me: We don't really talk. He texts. I text back. We don't hang out. We don't fuck and we don't kick it
And I let him wash my car a few weeks ago. Compared to us texting all day and hangin out
Her: Whateva since u aint me then u wldnt text back PERIOD. But im just sayin.
Me: Not really. I think somebody saying what up b?! And me saying not shit is enough..hardly talkin.
Her: Okkk jessica convince urself. Thats cool. So hows skool?
Me: Convince myself what. We kicked it every day all day. Texted every day all day. And now we don't do shit. And bc I chose not to ignore him. We went from 1000 texts a month to 5. And I don't hang out with him. U do the math girl. And that was my own advice to myself
Her: Did u get offended jessica cuz it seems that way? U musta had a HELLA crush on dat nigga. Hm missing him? Mayb. U still allowin the 5 txts
Miss thang. Quit gettin mad dang i was just sayin the obvious. So change of subject
How is skool?
Me: Not really. And miss what?! If I missed him I'd text him. He texts me. Aside from that. I got my freak that eats and I'm dating someone that's good to me. And short of gettin my # changed I can't control who texts me. NOT MAD I is same as always. Just ready to be done
Her:U miss him!
Me: No not really. Lol if I missed him I'd bring him up. But I don't. U do. Oh I said...moved on. I don't stand for stupid shit from niggas. NEVER DO!!! BWAHHAHA!!
Her: Lol. U crazy girl. Well thats gud

Now this is when that hoe really starts to get mad. Notice she keep putting LOL whenever she say some slick shit. So I starts to do it too like damn short I wanna play. :)

Her:Wow if u say so cuz that nigga was gettin ova on u 4 a min. And u rite i do bring him up is that a problem
Her: I just dnt like 2 c him out there was concerned. This aint no arguement is it? Lol
Me: Not for me. And he wasn't gettin over on me bc it was shit that I did. It's not like he was shooting it to me and then stopped talking to me. I did shit bc I had it and he didn't. U do that for friends. It's like when I loaned your drunk ass money bc you didn't have any at the club. No argument. Cuz there is nothing to argue over
Her: Why didnt yall eva b together? Why was it so complicated?
Me: It wasn't complicated. He popped off at the mouth and I decided no man is worth the bullshit. See some ppl wouldve just stayed. Cuz of course he apologized. He still does. It don't change shit. I'm good. I don't need a man.

This is when it hits her that I'm coming at her on the sly tip because she trying to come slick at me but I'm not fucked up. Me and bitches like this could compared shit all day. And all she can say is she weigh less than me. I got that hoe in every other catergory. LOL She gettin tight now...

Her:U got some fuckin nerve girl. Ima let that slide. I had it trust just cldnt find it.
Me: Did I not loan you money?! Lol Why u gettin mad?! I thought this wasn't an argument?! Lol
Her: Nigga whateva. A vibrator SHOULD NOT b a girls best friend
Her: M.f. U the one shootn off
Me: And neither should a sorry ass nigga. We all pick the lessor of two evils. For mine..I'd rather baste off while I wait for a good man than kick it with someone I feel don't respect me.

She just keep allowing me to gas her silly ass. LOL This is why we wasn't friends in high school. BWAHHAAHHA!!!

Her: U the 1 gettin mad ova (insert guy's name here),who u gave the pussy to. Not me.
Her: Fuck that. A vibrator aint shit. U need 2 learn how 2 wrk ur options
Me: Who's mad?! I have a boo. I'm not lonely. I don't miss (insert guy's name here). I like the new guy and I like the person I contracted to eat me out when I want. Who's mad??? Cuz it's not me. Lol
Her: If u say so chica lol
Her:Ok thats fine.
Her: Ima b the grown up and end the convo

She lucky my shorty called because I was about to really make her has hate me. Don't come at me wit no stupid shit people. I am not the one to fuck with.

Can I Touch It???

Every day I count my blessings that I was born into a sexually liberated generation. One that makes it okay for me to pack a mini arsenal of toys armed to pleasure anyone lucky enough to get a hold of them. I sit back and watch people mistakenly lay down with strangers to satisfy insatiable urges. I too have urges, but as an independent woman in a time riddled with STDs and this young birth epidemic, I've decided not to become a statistic.

Women get lured into bed with complete strangers just to find out how quickly 60 minutes of euphoria can turn into a lifetime of forced interactions with someone who maybe you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. I can assure rarely works out like that. Instead of putting myself at risk I open myself up to pulsing sensations and a vivid imagination that transforms my pleasure chest into the man of my dreams and pulls me into euphoria.

An alternate reality that allows me to be as naughty as they come all from the privacy of my bedroom. A plush pillow top fit for a queen an occasionally opened up to spectators see. So sexually expressive that like art work, I open myself up for the world. Moans and screams are insignificant compared to the pleasure I give MYSELF. Can't say I need a man to get me off. I'd to have one, but until he comes my right hand man will do just find. If they persist in wanting to know my past time, I'm a MASTER deBATOR and if you don't know exactly what that means...I can show you better than I can tell you.

To contact me click here.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

I Began To Speak His Truth

I sit pensive in a dark, cold and bitter room
Arms frantically flailing as I desperately try to grasp reality’s doom
Reflecting over days passed as I stumble onto new frontiers
I embrace my fears
My mind opens up like beautiful green pastures
Wondering why I always end up here?
Contemplating his fictitious alibis
I see baby tears form
And start to fall from these sad girl eyes
You see...I found something amazing
And lost it shortly after
Tainted… by his petty lies
Wondering how he got my double enforced walls down
And how he got big girl tears to stream
Like kids have dreams
Reaching for the stars I saw endless possibilities
And how we met on a week day, but on a weak day his sorry a$$ said goodbye
Talkin’ bout how I was his goal
On a quest to make me whole
And now…he trying to take credit for my life
My heart beats rapidly as I feel pain and sorrow
Like the melodious rhythms ringing out from the drum line
Tryin’ to figure out how he fucked up my today
And erased himself from my tomorrow
But I’m not even mad
Experienced a plethora of emotions from angry to sad
Before I realized he couldn’t control me or how I felt
Thought about the many conversations we shared
As I tried to talk myself out of feeling regret
Found myself being omitted all over again
I ended up with another enemy
I thought he was a friend
Now I’m stuck playing a game that it seems destiny is not willing to let me win
Or am I already a victor who is just too blind to open my artificial blues
And allow my pain to fall as my tears do
As blue moons turn into bright bursting suns
And becomes nothing more than a distant memory
And impediment so to speak that reached into my soul
And stroked my best part
He warmed this purple and blue bruised and broken heart
And thru heartache convinced me to act
Reunited me with an old friend
Performing came back
Gracing the stage full of anger and rage and using it to create a masterpiece
I open up to you…see me…center stage
I try to forget but the truth is I can’t
Because I see his words in every script I read
And every move I dance
And although I know my drum will always cancel his out
I still hear the music our souls made
As his pen began to scribble my thoughts
And I began to speak his truth
I embarked on a journey to revive something that was missing in my life
A journey that inevitably led me here tonight to you…
My audience


The Realization of Dreams...

I think Drake said it best on Closer where he talks about what its like to be closer to your dreams. I find myself nearing my college graduation. An obstacle that for so many people represents an easy 4 year ride to their dream jobs and careers.

For me college presented itself as a different set of challenges. I was forced to leave the only place I ever called home back in 2002. I was unemployed at the time and working part time while holding down a 3.8 GPA roughly. My only crime is that I was never going to be daddy's little girl. I accepted that. I just wanted to finish college and move to NYC. A dream that has taken almost a decade to finally feel tangible.

This coming December, I graduate college...FINALLY...with Bachelors degrees in International Business and Spanish. I'm not the emotional type but I imagine proud tears streaming from my cheeks on that cold winter day when I get those two degrees. I feel as if I am able to truly appreciate my accomplishment. It was a combination of blood, sweat, tears and love that got me through those hard times. It's the struggle behind our accomplishments that help us realize how blessed we really are.

I've made so many mistakes along the way and only hope that other people can learn from my story and avoid going through many of the things that I have endured. For now, I am an open book writing to announce to the world that I'm here to stay. Kool-aid smile on 1000 and ready to take on the world. Please and thank you!


When The Truth Hurts...

Today Nia Long became a hot button topic for simply speaking the truth. We have reached a plateau in today's society where things are no longer judged by their content but rather their ability to generate revenue. That's bullshit. Take 50 cent for instance. You can give that nigga a self help show, but that doesn't make him Martha Stewart.

Anyone able to have an intelligent conversation would understand that what Nia Long said in the most simplest of words is that if you don't bother to take the time necessary to learn the craft, you should sit the fuck down. There is no disputing that Beyonce has been offered and starred in more than one movie during her lifetime. That doesn't make her an Academy Award winning actress. It simply means she dominated the music industry so she's getting movie roles because she has an established fan base. Having an established fan base as a SINGER does NOT make you a good ACTRESS. And if someone told that bitch that, she was lying.

Don't attack Nia Long for saying what everyone else was thinking. It was an honest observation. Every industry has the same frustrations. Niggas goin in on cartoon rappers because their music is a joke or when underground niggas go commercial. It happens when actors try to sing or rap. When dancers want to sing or act...and the list goes on.

The message behind this is if you decide to cross over into other industries, please study up and don't give the fans shit because we deserve better. We deserve to see actors that can act and not just famous people that are popular. For those of you that have made it, I feel like you have a social responsibility to those of us who haven't to put quality work out there and not just go for the easy buck. Not all money is good money. Please and thank you!!!