Monday, December 20, 2010

Not Strangers

There is a place for us.
Created before we knew each other.
I am speaking to someone I don’t know now.
You know who you are.
Our meeting has already been charted.
Pin pointed on a map with a red flag.
No starting point.
We are the destination.
We are destined.
I am sure.
About.
Us two strangers.
Are we really strangers?
People say when we meet we will know.
Is destiny willed?
Contrary destiny.
Not contrived.
Unclear in your decidedness.
I am completely confused by destiny.
I have not lost sight of you.
Or.
Our place.
I will never call you stranger again.
That is rude.
Hearts don’t need names to communicate.
This is a matter of the heart.
I am sure.
About.
Us two.
The two of us.
Two hearts.
Like wings.
United in direction.
Unconditionally yielding.
Unprovoked promises.
I am not a fan of promises.
They are too easily broken.
Or marred.
Or misinterpreted.
Caught in the wind.
These wings.
Fan me.
Calm me.
My tendencies are hyperactive.
Unknowingly believe.
Without sight.
Should I question what I can’t see?
Why question what I know?
Again.
I am sure.
About.
Us.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

In Conversation

You speak.
I listen.
Treasure hunting.
Scavenger style.
Searching tones.
Comparing inflection.
Spoken smiles.
Not peculiar.
Intriguingly particular.
Jokes touch the line.
Aware of their boundaries.
Carefully complimentary.
No juice.
No gas.
Possessing his warmth.
Kind enough to share.
Pick pocketing pieces.
Adulating.
Playing in the wind.
Hid his voice.
Perfectly placed it.
Cupping my eardrum.
My new lullaby.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Distant Love

I have a secret.
I live a lie.

I pretend that you mean nothing.
Sing dancing words.
Talk to you in circles.
As to escaped the pin pointedness
of what I'm dying to express.
Laying in wait to remove the mask.
Subconsciously hoping that you read
between the lines better than my unrequited front.

But this secret is bigger than a death bed confession.
More timely than the note you'd find after my demise.
This lie is the truth.
The truth of the matter is I love you.
No word tango.
No interwoven interpretations.
Plain like water and air and light.
I love you.
Uncorked, breathing, flowing...
My cup runneth over.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Morning Loving

Continue to call me baby.
Continue to call me to you with your eyes and arms.
That while my heart says no
every
inch
of
me
is pulling you onto me.
On
top
of
me
is where you should be and I could not see you any
other places beside the
meeting
of
my
thighs
kissing my lips as my hips shift
up
and
down.
Smiling you see me trying not to
give
it
all
to you taking more than I thought you could have
me
on
top
grinding, winding fast then slowly you pull me tightly,
slightly you roll me over
onto
my
back
is against the bottom of this never ending relentless
push
of
stiffness.
Wet as I am,
long
as
you
are.
Damn how long has it been since….
Shit….
I’m late for work again.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Bloodlines

Open palms chart the money line, love line…I see my bloodline. Fathered by an abuser & mothered by a woman who fought to stop beating herself up about it.

He held my hand as he walked my sister and I home from school. After dinner and bed time his hands held rage. Her smile was like a dream while she cooked dinner. Nightmarish screams when he assumed we were asleep.

Every time the same questions, “Why?” “What did I do?” Every time no answer. Just fists to flesh, fists to flesh. Followed by soft apologies, tear tinged whimpering and moans. Peculiar mornings. Questions that could not be asked. Silence. Forced happiness. Swollen lipped smiles always amazed me. Bright eyed girls. Worn woman. He always managed to have to leave before breakfast the morning after. I would have paid money to look into his eyes on those mornings.

She loved him. That was my assumption, because she stayed. She’d lie about the ring darker than her skin around her eye. The worst was the one about how she cut the palm of her hand while washing dishes. I remember how the look of despair, disgust and anger mangled my grandmother’s face. I received the child in grown folks business look and was excuse before the conversation was furthered. My grandmother was a strong woman. I’m sure it tore at her to see her baby girl in such a weakened condition.

Keeping up appearances was the constant game. Appear happy. Appear loving. Appear unafraid. I’ve never seen a more graceful eggshell walk than hers. Ever attentive. Always listening. Remembering to ask. Ensuring that permission was granted. I’d watch her from the couch, ping-ponging from request to fulfillment. She’d make eye contact just long enough for him to acknowledge her acknowledgement. Never lingering.

For years I watched this perversion of love. This lopsided struggle of power. Her diligently working to seem powerless and his rigorous efforts to impose his. The final battle happened behind a locked door in my grandmother’s house. The door had to be kicked down, my uncles pulled him off of her. They beat him up. The police were called. She exited the room bloody, battered, broken. I’d always seen her after the wounds had time to close slightly. Face cleansed. Bruises set. Experienced her features distended. For the very first and only time I saw the flesh of face ripped open. Blood filled sclera. Lip sliced, damn near dangling from her face. Completely pummeled. The mix of blood and tears oddly complemented her disfigured face. She could barely speak. Every attempt was a battle between her mind, tongue and lips. Hearing her efforts to speak through that thrashed mask of a face was just as heartbreaking as looking at it.

Once a week my father would visit us at school. Even after what I knew and saw, I still loved him. I can’t recall him ever raising his voice at me. He taught me karate and put sugar on my popcorn for the premiere episode of She-Ra. He helped me with my homework. Our father-daughter relationship had no semblance to who he was as a husband. I’ve often questioned my ability to see him in pieces. To disassociate the monster from the man. To know his monstrous capabilities and still love him. I cannot explain or make sense of it. Even at this very moment.

One day, he sat my sister and I down and told us he was moving to New Orleans. That was one of the last times I saw him. Tall, burnt brown sugar complexion, strong and muscular. The very next and last time was three years later, same face, dulled complexion, lifeless. He was killed in a car accident. I don’t remember crying at the services. I do recall a strange emptiness.

In the meantime, while out from under the watchful eye and heavy hand of my father, my mother turned to other form of abuse. Freedom led her to a different prison. This time she was doing the hitting. Crack. It was a complete escape. She was no longer a wife and slowly the title of mother began to dissipate. Pipe dreams and bedroom fantasies. Bartering, exchanging the needs of her habit for the desires of men. Oftimes, choosing the company of a man over the responsibilities of motherhood. Estranged. Aunts and grandmothers became mothers to nieces, nephews and grandchildren.

My mother became a stranger. Imagine me, a young girl managing bitterness, abandon, confusion. Vacillating between, “She loves me…she loves me not.” “She has to, I am hers.” “She can’t, she is gone.” “No, she is here.” She doesn’t hug me when I see her anymore. I see her shame. She thinks I left her. She left me first. I love her. I long for her. I want Her. She could be good again. She could make me breakfast again. She used to kiss me. Comb my hair. Part it in squares with bangs that framed my face. Her frame slowly parting. Meaty hips disappearing. She’d make appearances in my dreams. Fairytale visions. Sobering reality. See what I mean?

I grew from a young girl into a woman with my aunt as my guide. A tender woman. Deeply caring. Ever nurturing. Always loving. There are no words for how grateful I am. No earthly means of repaying her. She never let me call her mom. Her integrity wouldn’t let her. Only a selfish woman would rob another woman that way. I love her for that.

My mother has been clean and sober for seven years now. Our relationship is not what I’d like it to be, but we have one. It took me a long time to forgive her and I have. Forgiveness was my release from those feelings of loss and anger. I used to say, “I just don’t want to be like her.” Today I say, why not? Look at what she’s overcome. Physical abuse. Chemical abuse. Self inflicted abuse. I can’t imagine her pain. Having to reconcile her damage with the damage she’s caused. Being a ghost. Being lost. Being less than. Not being. Her past is present in the eyes of her children. She has been through fire. She is strong. She is resilient. She is a fighter. She is a survivor. She is my mother.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Mini Poems & Passing Thoughts

Melancholy memories of events that never happened. Springing forward just to fall back. Lamenting over what I don’t have. Making the things I do pale without comparing. So at the bottom of this half empty glass I’m staring. Tears and spilled milk make a bitter concoction.


The tides are changing. Sand is slowly seeping from one end of the hour glass to the other. We can choose to wait until the time is right or do our very best to treasure, revel in and live each moment as the gift it is.

Sometimes love is a battlefield. Some people show up in their full armor, big guns & plenty of amo. While other arrive with a hopeful spirit unprepared to fight. They stand unprotected brandishing a butter knife!!

Oh love, you ultimate thrill seekers attraction. Carefully clicking me to higher heights. Causing me to throw my hands in the air, close my eyes and scream. While my body feels like it’s plummeting to its death. My heart reminds me that my harness is secure & in you I am safe.

We threw some words around! Love-trust-hope-family. Before they bled into the walls we picked up brushes, we painted around us & called it home.

Gentlemen, at the meeting of every woman’s thighs is a raging war. Suit up to fight, but remember to choose your battles wisely. Some territory is fruitful, while others are plagued. Think about what your getting yourself into.

In the steady rock of this very still moment…I am moving you.

Often the truth is found within the silent inhaled breathe between the words.

No switches. We are the light.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Truth Lied

Uncharacteristically angry.
Your truth sounds like the lies I tell myself.
The buried truth.
The truth that I never speak.
Truth that my mind rejects.
My soul guards it.
You weasel. You snake. You parasite.
I’d never trust nor invite you.

Misguided anger.
I own these lies.
Hide them behind smiles.
Shit!
That’s how you entered.
The innocence of parted lips.
Betrayed by my own front.
Even lies seek freedom.
Even lies seek light.

Complex anger.
On the verge of tears.
I cup my lips as if the ward off an escape.
I’ve cried too many times about this.
I hate lending my energy to this feeling.
Paralyzed by the truth of the lies.
Calling them lies make them easier to bare.
The truth of the matter is these are not lies.
They just hurt too much to call them truth.
Truth is supposed to be beautiful and rich.
This truth is so murky.

Reflective anger.
Internal blues dodger.
Weary woman.
Hurt harborer.
Happy face painter.
Emotional knot-tier.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Has A Song Ever...

The other night I was wide awake at like 3:00A for no apparent reason. I was watching Dave Chappelle’s Block Party and dancing and just thinking about how the music ignited me. I was so full and happy!! I just brought to the forefront of my mind the way and why I truly love music. My last love affair has its very own soundtrack, complete with the oddly innocent moment when my soul knew it was love and of course the melodies that coupled my lamentations when it was over. That is the ultimate testament to music. I can musically chart my life. While this message has no chronology, it is filled with moments that led me to ask...


Has a song ever…….

made love to you?
One night “Kind of Blue” (Miles Davis)
loved me so hard, my legs were shaking
and I could not catch my breath.

made you grateful to be alive?
One time “Just to Get By” (Talib Kweli)
made me realize how happy I am to be
here-present-me.

made you know that God is…..
“His Eye Is On The Sparrow” is my favorite
reminder.

opened a door for you?
Once I was so lost in love and
“Slowly, Surely” (Jill Scott) opened my
heart and eyes and I was able to walk
away.

aided in a depression?
Well, “For All We Know” (Donny Hathaway),
coupled with Jack Daniels, kept me low in the
best possible way.

started a party?
The bells in “Peter Piper” (Run DMC)
will make my ass
move no matter where I am.

gave you that dizzy-silly-ain’t nothing like it feeling?
Man, “Nothing Even Matters” (Lauryn Hill w/D’Angelo)
caused me to nose dive right into it.

made you say yea, that’s what I want?
If a man could relate to/understood “Your Lover
Too” (Van Morrison), I’d love him, Forever.

made you smile from start to finish?
You’d have to scrape the smile off my face when
“Sweetest Thing” (Lauryn Hill) is playing.

awakened a stream of anger?
“Bad Habit” (Offspring) is my road rage anthem.

made you want to get your shit together?
I paid the light and gas bill on time after listening to
“Can’t Tell Me Nothing” (Kayne West)

made you believe that you would Neva-eva-eva-eva love again?
Damn, “How Do You Mend a Broken Heart” (Al Green)
had me stuck.

reminded you that you are not alone?
One night “My Life” (Mary J. Blige) kept me company.

spoken to your soul?
I realized what a great communicator “Stronger
Than Pride” (Sade) is.

made you see your sexual truth?
“Play” (David Banner) makes me want to take it
all off and do the damn thang with a partner or DJ Dittles style.

made you praise motherhood?
“Ye-Yo” (Erykah Badu) makes me feel the full weight of
what I have been entrusted with.

made you think that you could fix it?
“Hold On” (Dwele) had me walking around with masking
tape and gorilla glue.

Peace and blessing,
Mykisha

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Here I Stand (Repeat Chorus)

Here I stand
A single woman
Under a single light
On a single stage
Behind a single mic

I live for right now because that’s how time is given to me.
Untying the bows of moments.
Understanding the gift of presence.
Gratitude is the attitude I strive to embody.
Savoring time as it flies by me.
So when I paint my memories they are perfectly pictured.
Vividly remembered.
Brightly burning embers.
No wishes or demands...

Here I stand
A single woman
Under a single light
On a single stage
Behind a single mic

He is the force that unknowingly drives me.
Cuts, divides and multiplies me.
Changed and renamed me.
I move myself so that he can be greater than me.
He is of me, yet he towers above me.
Allowing me to know what love can be when you stop living selfishly.
When the we becomes greater than the me.
As my growing boy becomes a man…

Here I stand
A single woman
Under a single light
On a single stage
Behind a single mic

My life’s aim is not to lay claim to material things.
But to experience the joy, pain and love it brings.
Expensive stuff at the expense of what I can’t touch.
I’d exchange a closet full of clothes for a moment’s peace in my soul.
Solid gold for a hand to hold.
Those Dr. Dre headphones are worthless when listening to my hearts song.
Working, scratching, lying, back biting trying to garner things.
When waking up in the morning is already a blessing.
Praising Him for all I have.
Fat pockets or empty hands.

Here I stand
A single woman
Under a single light
On a single stage
Behind a single mic

Friday, August 27, 2010

FIVE Art Show - Thank You!!

FIVE Art Show was so spiritually and outwardly awesome! I’m beyond grateful to God for blessing me with sight and vision! From inception to execution. I learned so much…not just about event planning, but about myself as well. It awoke a passion in my spirit that is new and completely unfamiliar.

Enough about my “feelings”. LOL!! This post is dedicated to everyone that touched FIVE with their energy and spirit!

Please note that this list has no chronology!!

Super special thanks to all the vendors & food trucks!! Paul - Mara - Bijou Royale - Nana Queens - Fresh Fries!!

Ashlynn – Bless you for being my partner in crime. My scheme-mate. Put on your hard hat, we’re just getting started! You are invaluable!! I love you like water and wind!

Yohannce – Bless you for being a sounding board. For connecting dots and helping me put pieces in there proper place. My appreciation for you runs deep!

Buddy – Bless you for your energy. For answering my insane phone calls and making me feel at ease. Thank you for keeping the crowd moving! I owe you big time!!

Tiana – Bless your aura, spirit, truth. Although we didn’t do what we set out to do, we got to connect. It was mad worth it!

Brian – Bless you for being so fly! Thank you for the brilliant flyer! Thank you for letting my pester you! Thank in advance for all the stuff I plan to bug you about in the near future! All the best love!

Hiram – Bless you for being an inspiration. You are a direct link to the show’s foundation. You unknowingly encouraged my dream! Thank you for letting my high jack your show! LOL! The best is yet to come!

Jbro5ki – Bless you for holding it down!! Your energy brought life to the people! Your presence filled the room! Thank you so much! Next time we connect, it’s your turn to bring the Vanilla Coke! =)

Treklife – Bless your heart! We knew each other in our formative years. I’m so blessed know you as a man! Your love for hip hop is evident from your tone to delivery to content. You are a treasure! You will always be on MY LIST!!

Cordell – Bless you for your all in attitude. Your work set those walls ablaze. I’m forever a fan and I have something in the oven for the very near future!

Dataone – Bless you for being my dance partner! LOL! Thanks for being you and encouraging me in unconventional ways! Super Mad Love!

Jarvis – Bless you for being so damn dope!! You already know that I love your work and spirit! Keep shining and believing! Our future collaboration is going to be mean!

Michael – Mellow Music Group – Bless you for stepping out on faith with me! Thank you for building with me! Thank you for being a magical wizard that I’m now hell bent on meeting!! LOL!

Akeyla – Bless your spirit! You exude passion, light and love! I’m so happy to call you friend and sister! You are so beautiful…by sight and spirit! I love you like fried chicken and grape soda!!

Senor Cocks – Bless you for being my friend! For believing in the madness that is me and sharing the insanity that is you! I love you so much!

Ameer – Bless you for being open. Please know that you are dope and special! No doubts! You are bound for higher heights!!

Cinnamon – Bless you for your love! Thank you so much for stepping in!! I love you way too much!

DaeOne – Bless your energy! You’re my brother-friend!! Thank you for being there, sharing you and always making me feel like I can fly!! I’m so proud of you…You freakin’ musically genius!!

JBiz – Bless you for being so damn Fresh!! I always say that real music should evoke a feeling. From head nodding to aspirations of body rocking you got it all!! LOL! Mad grateful that you were a part in the show!

Rondoval – Bless your energy! I love you! You are an amazing artist, but above all you are the most genuine, loving and beautiful person I know!

Michael Anthony – Bless you for being the dopest singing from the soul singer I know! Although, you weren’t there, your spirit was! Bless you for being the epitome of a friend! For encouraging all my crazy ideas and dreams! Please know…There will be a next time!

Danielle – Bless you for your love! Bless you for moving and shaking!! I love you beyond words!

Abel – Bless you for your help! Thank you for brainstorming and idea sharing with me on FIVE and all of my other harebrain schemes!! So grateful to know you!

Pen – Bless you for saying YES!! You were my dream artist! My whale of sorts! It meant the world to me to have you share the sheer dopeness that is you in my show.

Van – Bless you for encouragement! Thanks for coming through and ripping. Thanks for that side chat. Your words are hidden in my heart! I appreciate you beyond words! The connection is blessed!

Noni – Bless your pimp hand!! LOL!! It’s mad strong! LOL! Thanks for coming through, for being a dope rhyme sayer, for chastising me for racy pics, for being you!!

Richard Wright – Bless you for the surprise!! Thanks for blessing the crowd with your magical presence and summer anthem!! I got my eye on you! Stay fly!

Christopher – Bless you for your light! You shine brighter that you’ll ever know. You’re radiant and beautiful in ways I can’t explain. Thank you for sharing your ideas and knowledge!

Tha Boogie – Bless you for your authenticity!! You all are so true to your passion. It shows in everything you do! Continue to move outside of the box, beyond the lines and defy genres!! My love for you is infinite!

Great night!! Below is the link to prove it!!

Five Art Show Photos

Monday, August 2, 2010

Paradise?

I used to live in a beautiful home. We built it with the intentions of living there together…forever.
Well manicure grass. Clean gutters. An inviting brick walkway. Impeccably painted.
Wood burning fireplace. Fresh flowers on the table.
A staircase that led to the master suite, where we sweetly mastered each other.
It overlooked a garden that we often fed upon.
I cooked and he emptied trash.
Our own personal paradise.
Even paradise has its imperfections.
Like when we’d leave.
Unknowingly we’d invite in insecurity.
Without warning open our doors to infidelity.
Unsure which one led to the other or if the beauty of this home became too much to manage.
Either way the things that made this house lovely slowly started being neglected.
Weeds in the front yard. Overflowing gutters. Chipped paint.
Empty vases. No wood. Masters became novices. Fruit and vegetation slowly rot.
Home cooking was replaced by meals that came in bags. Trash started to overrun.
It became a dump.
Like love, once paradise, meeting its demise to parasites.
Feeding on unsuspecting and unprepared hosts.
Two unwitting spirits that didn’t realize that paradise is the place that lives within.
The place without walls, walkways and windows.
Not a palatial palace on a street with no address and broken keys.
Not a dream like state detached from reality.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Dancer

Shall we dance. Arms extended, hands clasped, gaze locked. I press my body against his, my breasts rest easy on his chest. I relax into his embrace. My head lay at rest on his shoulder. His hand cupping my waist. He whispers, the words hit me ear. They ring. He steps. I follow. He turns me. I willingly spin. Controlled. Knowing we will meet in that sweet place. Gazed locked, chests pressed, we smile. My footwork is flawless, his words continue to intoxicate. I am spinning. The room is spinning. He is smiling. I am falling. I am sweetly mistaken. Hands clasped, his hand is cupping my waist, my leg extended. His final flourish, a dip.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Battle Call

New night. Old feelings.
A scared girl sharpens her tools.
Preparing to duel with a warrior woman.
They meet in a field where dreams die.
Hope lives.
Colors are murky.
Souls are blue.
Young girl poised for battle.
Silver chest plate.
Nerves of steel with sword to match.
Warrior woman carries flowers.
Eyes searching the sky, she is slow in her approach.
The battle stare is blinding.
Full force they run.
Her sword weighs her down.
The winds make confetti of the petals.
Winded & weighed they lock eyes again.
Blinding revelation.
They are the same.
They embrace…..
Girl & Woman.
Child & Mother.
Past & Present.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

I Love This Song 1.0

“I’ll Be Your Lover Too” – Van Morrison

http://tinyurl.com/2u67hg6

It enters the room. Bold in its tenderness. Gently demanding my attention. He tickles the guitar with vigor. Moody drums, lightly dusting the high hat. Then he begins…singing. Honey flavor brandy and cigarette tinged moans. There is a rich longing in his tone. He is professing his duty to her. Honoring her place and proclaiming his. A full pledge of truth through understanding. An open armed invitation into his kingdom. Adorning her with a crown. Though lost in her gaze he steadies himself with the promise to protect and love her.

He and the music are reminiscent of a seasoned married couple. Completely yielding one to another. Each understanding the ways of the other. Never overstepping, a dual individual moving unit. It’s amazing the way they embrace. So careful not to taint the others purpose. Cautious in the way they allow each other to exist in their own right. I am merely an onlooker. A privileged passerby. If I wasn’t observant I would have completely missed their independence. While the beauty is made full through their union, I had to acknowledge their autonomy.

He is no dream merchant. She is the dream. She is the fulfillment. She is the embodiment. She is the purpose for his tone, the marriage of the instruments and his voice. She is the catalyst of the masculine tenderness, this manly vulnerability.

I can never listen to this song just once. It bears repeating. Please partake patiently and without distraction. Walk through its open door, settle into it and stay a little while.

Peace and blessings,
Mykisha

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Kindred Conversations

One day while perusing Twitter I came across this question from Slimthe78er, “Is it true that some things are just not to be overstood but just to go by your true intuitive energy?” Impulsively, I tried to answer. I rattled and racked my brain, for some reason I couldn’t phrase it properly. So, I slept on it, gathered my thoughts and this came to me, “We are not made to understand everything, but through intuition we are blessed to understand what is truly meant for us to experience.” He humbly thanked me for the response. From there we started building. The one hundred forty character parameters of the direct message box housed our thoughts. The course of this ongoing conversation took unexpected turns and revealed two people’s views on varying subjects.


When I turned thirty, I had what I’d describe as a re-birth, a new awakening. “I lost that sense of insecurity that plagues you in your youth. My self awareness was heightened. I relaxed into who I truly am.” He admitted to being a late bloomer but, expressed, “I have learned to embrace humility, humbleness, & knowing the more you know, the more there is to learn.” I piggybacked his truth with, “Humility has been the most rewarding gift. It opens the door to acceptance, which welcomes gratitude.”

In discussing some of the mediums I’m looking to take my poetry, he relieved that he is working on a project titled, G.I.R.L, an acronym for Getting In Relationships that Last. When asked his take on relationships, he offered, “My view is that times are changing for men and women. Relationships are hard because lots of us are stuck on old ways.” I easily agreed with the truth of that statement and replied, “With relationships there are compromises that have to be made. Some people aren't able to see pass their needs for a greater oneness.” With those virtual head nods exchanged, he asked, “Would you say that leaning towards woman or men. Who do you think got worse?” To which I retorted, “Women got worse, with the misguided “Independent” movement. Men reacted to the idea of them being quintessentially rejected by becoming visibly absent. It further allowed men to be unaccountable / irresponsible. You have women saying, I don’t need a man & men saying okay. Honestly, the actions of some women ruined the way men view all of us.”

Most of our conversations, opened with a simple question, “What’s the word?” When sincerity was offered for consumption, we ate of it gracefully. In relation, he described it as, “The all honest, the self evident true feeling, this is one of the most pure ways of true expression. Freedom from deceit...”, while I metaphorically replied, “Sincerity & honesty are married. Humility is their first born. There are no fakes in this family.”

After walking out off the direct message door the discussions ran the full gambit of life. We touched on child rearing, uplifting our youth, slavery, generational gaps, having basements and backyards with an effortless openness. We questioned each others ideas and expounding on shared notions.

Through these conversations I found that men and women can have kindred conversations. We can encourage, learn from and aid each other. That while we think and experience things completely different we have commonalities that bridge us. With all the talk of what’s wrong between the genders, these conversations have been a welcomed escape. I’m reminded that while the broad strokes of who we are as men and women are being painted, there are some of us that consciously choose to draw outside lines.
Peace and blessings,

Mykisha

Slimthe78er is a music producer and father based in the DC area.
Twitter: @slimthe78er
Youtube: www.youtube.com/user/SlimThe78er
Bandcamp: www.slimkat78.bandcamp.com

Monday, June 14, 2010

A Mouth Full

I pensively approach you.
Arms crossed.
Glare straight.
We make eye contact.
You, smile – a half smile.
What is in your mouth?
Your eyes shift to the left.
You lose what’s left of your smile.
What is in your mouth?
I sit up straight.
Your posture softens.
Finally, your lips part.
Immediately, the air is filled with a vial smell.
You continue to speak.
Delicately placing each word.
It’s well rehearsed.
Tone and inflection, intricately positioned.
I’m thinking.
What the hell is he thinking?
Your words shower and cling to me.
Like hot grits confetti.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head.
My stomach turns and my face is flush.
Finally, I had enough.
This moment was truly defining.
My reply was simple.
“STOP LYING!”

Haikus 2.0

He’s bobbing his head.
I smile and sing with my hands.
Music between us.

Crafty cuddler.
Bodies fit like a puzzle.
A piece is missing.

His fly is open.
She dangles from word to word.
He has set his trap.

While playing with words.
His tongue tickled her fancy.
No laughing matter.

She carries the weight.
The world rests on her shoulders.
She mothers us all.

Nymphomanic.
Hiding under skin & clothes.
Longing for freedom.

The edge grows closer.
It is overlooking death.
Seek greener pastures.

Infinite power.
A legend within a myth.
You are beautiful.

His voice like honey.
Sticky and finger licking.
Sweet melodies.

Very close to sleep.
Dear bed be my companion.
Make peace my promise

Haikus 1.0

I am blessed today.
With life, friends and family.
Gratitude expressed!

Look to the heavens.
Breathing in the new days grace.
Blessid awareness.

I know where he is.
Yet, his presence is absent.
I long for his touch.

I’m turning him on.
Pushing all of his buttons.
He’s undoing mine.

Fingertips on skin.
Slowly drag from point to point.
No compass needed.

We don’t speak often.
Our past has its own language.
Spoken in silence.

He shoots and he scores.
Mother cries, "Not my baby!"
Shooter still at large.

That smell in the air.
Passion and pheromones blend.
Intoxicating.

My magic potion.
Caused an odd proclaimation.
Let Ashlyn tell you.

The Urgency of I Love You

I promise to love you tomorrow.... As the energy raised giving air to my lungs, pushing through my mouth, playing on my tongue, my lips closed & held the phrase captive. I decided tomorrow is not soon enough. The urgency with which I love you could not wait for day to change to night & become day again. This stance must be taken immediately. So right now in this moment, I set the words free. Releasing them from my heart & not my head. Here I am…saying, I love you.


Remember to tell the people you love that you do......often!!!

Peace and blessings,
Mykisha

Friday, June 11, 2010

The Hold Out

Sex, in the most concrete aspect is a physical act, but abstractly is it an exchange of energy, a co-mingling of spirits, the opportunity to feel someone beyond touch. The chance to mix emotion, strength and endurance. If done properly, you should experience a glimpse of your counter parts soul. You should see their humanity. Not the whimsical, movie like feelings associated with sex. I’m talking about the kinetic, spiritual side. That thought alone reminds me that we aren’t meant to share ourselves too freely.

Growing up, I was told things like, “Keep your dress down and your pants up”, “Don’t give it up” and “Your virtue is your beauty”. With a complete understanding of this sage and Christian advice, I struggle. By no means are my legs like an elevator: push a button, they open and you take a ride. But I will say that I am no stranger to an awesome sexcapade.

All of this vacillating has led me to what my friends have dubbed a drought, but I’ve affectionately named The Hold Out. The principle of The Hold Out is addressing my needs as a whole person and forgoing sex for a true connection. I believe that every man is flavored differently. Some sweet, spicy, tangy or hot, all of which suit my pallet in one way or another. The package may read a certain way, but you never really know until you open the contents and taste. Pretty packaging and clever marketing can get you caught up. I work to carefully decipher what is worth tasting. I’ve decided to forsake gluttony.

The Hold Out has made for some interesting challenges and bizarre rewards. I’ve mastered the fine art of resisting the late night invitation from an excellent lover. Call me insane, but I felt guilty for using someone in that way. Not that the use wasn’t symbiotic. I’m challenged daily by fantasies, memories, visions of sex and sweat and wet kisses. I combat it through writing, trade it off for vicarious stories and address it aggressively in the shower. While my friends are willing to share in detail, I’m often the butt of odd jokes, “You just need to get your kitty punched!” or “You don’t need help, you just need some dick!” Though not tangible in anyway, I’m reward by challenging my desires for something bigger than girth, length and stiffness. Woosaa!!!

It has caused me to question who I am as a woman. How does what I experience sexually get me closer to who I’m striving to be? If by my own example of it being a spiritual experience, was the connection worth it if it only happens in a bed or kitchen counter or a couch? Am I strong enough in my womanhood to be principle driven? I’ve come to realize that while I feel slightly insane at times, this will not be the death of me. Moreover, I tip my hat to the control freak in me in, as it is stronger than the freak!

But if one day, afternoon or night I crack under this pressure, was it all in vain? I don’t believe so. Don’t judge me for creating my own trap door! This experience has taught me lean on my faith more; to examine my deeper needs and desires. I’m grateful for my stance and the sense of purpose it has given me.

Sexual liberation through repression. Odd concept? Yes! Should every woman at some point have their own Hold Out? That question is left for them to decide.


Peace and blessings,
Mykisha

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

An Open Letter To All The Other Open Letters (A Defense of Stayve Jerome Thomas)

When it comes to Black male and female relationships, I've been trying to hold my tongue from speaking on it for a while. Quite frankly, the subject is old, and I get frustrated at the unwillingness of both parties to really listen to each other and to actually act out the solutions being offered and suggested. Often times the statements and conclusions become predictable.

Before I continue I'm going to lay out a few things...

I'm a Black male in my late 20s. My mother raised me and my older sister. I have lived around women basically all of my life. Most of my understanding of "how to be a man" came from the trials and learning that me and other male friends (most of whom were raised by their mothers) tried to discover through life and bouncing our expereinces off one another. Wisdom through peers. Many times I would try to gain understanding of how to be a man by asking other women's opinions, other times through older males. When it comes to male and female interactions, I almost always lean in favor for women because of the horrible things I have seen men do to women. Whether it be domestic violence, infidelity, mind games, any of that, I've seen it, heard about it, and know women who have experienced it. My mother was an activist. Very proud and strong willed. You ain't seen a strong Black woman with an education til you met my mother. Trust me.

I have a BA from an acclaimed private college, and went to UCLA for my MA. Since graduating 4 years ago I have been laid off 3 times, and have been struggling to get back on my feet. I am not the largest dude, never played sports. I am an artist at heart. Overall, I think I can confidently say that I am what most Black women say they want minus the financial success and being over 6 feet tall. There's only one girl I ever dated that was of another race. Otherwise, I much prefer darker skinned Black women (you can thank my mom for that).

I have some of Slim Thug's music. A few mixtapes and his album Already Platinum. I also listen to Miles Davis, Bjork, and all kinds of other stuff. There's no way you can pigeon-hole me. As soon as I read his Vibe article I knew what was coming, one of them being a Black academic breakdown of what he said/implied.

Many "successful" Black folks have a problem relating to other Blacks that didn't go to college or finish high school. If they aren't using big enough words, citing statistics, or saying it in a way that we like for our public image, we go into teacher mode. We throw some bell hooks in the mix to exercise our knowledge.

Many times Black women in college would debate what I would say when it came to relationships and seemingly dismantle me in a discussion about "capitalist patriarchy", sexism, and the like. No man is without his fault of his sexism, but guess what? There are a lot of women who support the cycle of sexism. So before you critique a man about his "sexism" understand that what they are patterning themselves after are often times things that other women say that they want.

Such as-
"I want a man who can lead."
"I want a man who can keep me in check sometimes."
"I need a man who can protect me."

These are the 3 most used sentences I have heard from various Black women throughout my life. And every time I hear it, it seems odd to me. The same things women say they want contradict the ideas of feminism in the way I understand it. How can I lead, protect, and check you without already holding a position of superiority? That has yet to be explained in a way that doesn't contradict itself. And lets say I am able to do all of those things. What's the woman's role in the relationship?

I spoke to a Black female professor at my college that many of the women at my school studied under, revered and loved.

I said "All of these Black women look up to you. They quote you all the time. They love you. And these same systems you are teaching to help us grow, to fight oppression, are getting used against other Black men like me. So the same people I want to fight alongside are fighting against me. What am I supposed to do?"

All she could say was: "Listen...I'm not giving solutions, these are only theories."I was upset by that answer. It was as if all these things we were taught were just excersises in "What if...?". A theory is not an answer.

But it also made me realize that there is no one answer to everything to solve Black issues.

I say all that to say this- All of us so called "educated" black people need to be quiet. Cause in the end, we don't always know what we're talking about. One of the biggest gripes I have right now is this elitist attitude people are having in discrediting Slim's intelligence, as if he has no idea of how to interact with other humans. Somehow, he has no idea what he's talking about because he didn't articulate it "intellectually".

Stayve Jerome Thomas aka Slim Thug is a rapper from Houston. As far as I know he doesn't have any degrees. He worked his way to become a local celebrity, distributed his own mixtapes, started an independent label, and has had a major label debut. He even appeared alongside many women's idol, Beyonce. The video for Hip Hop Saved My Life by Lupe Fiasco was inspired by Slim Thug's rise, as Lupe himself stated. Despite the perception of Slim Thug, he's an entrepreneur, and has done more before his 30s than many people. So lets not discount his intelligence. Through it all, people (especially women) are upset by what his feelings and opinions are on Black women in relationships. He didn't say he never dated, will never date, or does not like Black women. He said what his friends do and have said with regard to White women giving them less of a hard time. And I have heard the same from other Black men. He stated his opinion, it was printed. This is about the interaction in a relationship. Not about domestic violence, stats, and so forth. So it seems most people want to discredit everything he said. This debate isn't new. What he said isn't new, nor are the reactions. Now what?

"Well I'm not an angry black woman. I won't just cook and clean for you. You just want a white girl cause she'll let you walk all over her and do anything, I ain't' gonna bow down to you!"

There's a difference between being a doormat, and being loyal. It doesn't mean you do everything a man says.

I'm going to break some news to you: White women are usually more loyal and less argumentative.

From what I've seen overall, most men period rather a woman who is less argumentative. Why? Because if you are asking me to lead and be responsible, I don't want to constantly argue about my decision. If you are trusting me to lead or to display my leadership, then someone is going to follow. If we keep running into debates or you are going to try to hold superiority over me, then it's not going to work. It doesn't mean you don't stand up for what you feel is right, but if we are going to continually have a tug of war, debate, or argue over something, then it's not healthy. There's a difference between being a "strong" black woman and being an "unwilling" black woman. You can put up a debate and have a strong will. That's great. But at some point a decision has to be made. If two people keep coming to impasses where neither is willing to compromise, it's not going to work. This is about the interaction in a relationship, not how well someone can show out. You can take that how you want, but this is how a lot of men operate. If you care about getting and keeping a man, maybe that will help.

Believe it or not, there are women who are gold diggers like Slim Thug described.

There are women who will not "lower" or "compromise" their standards. And yes, standards can be too high. You may not think yours are, but they might be. And sometimes it's not so much the standards, but the unwillingness to try anything different.

I have no shame in admitting that I need a woman to complete my vision of happiness. And yes, I want it to be a Black woman.

It seems like most women don't want to believe what Slim Thug said MIGHT be true.

And then throughout today we have open letters, rants, and debates.

Sorry Black women, but the more you keep throwing stones at him the more he can say "See. I told you."

And as much as women say they dislike his mentality, it's the same mentality that many women still go for, even if they dont admit it. He never said he's better than a woman, but clearly he feels there is a lead position he must take. Is that surprising? Trust me I've heard worse. I know lots of Black men who have openly stated "I'M the catch. I'M the one that most women want. I'm a Black man and I'm successful. Shit, they should prove to ME why they're worth MY time."

So the question becomes what are you going to bring into the relationship? The first response is always "I won't cook and clean and be a maid or his mom." I hear more Black women saying what they won't do than what they will do. And when a women comes along and says that they will do what the other woman won't, she's gets wifed. And she gets the benefits of having the protective man that can lead. Yes people, it's a new day. Black women are now doing the mating call and showing that they are a prime catch. It's survival of the fittest to get a Black man.

Please spare me statistics, or re-eading this to find sentences you can dismantle (espeically out of context).

I actually think you should re-read Slim Thug's words for what they say, not what you think he said or is implying. Things in print aren't the same as a conversation.

Yes these are generalities. We all generalize. We all have opinions that someone out there disagrees with.

No, I do not agree with everything Slim Thug said, but I do understand his point. Implying racial superiority definitely is problematic; but, I can point out a lot of cultural differences I see between African Americans and others, and one of them is how we value relationships and family. It's not just falling apart because of outside forces but because of internal issues.

Yes, Black men have done a lot of things wrong, but that doesn't mean every Black woman is without blame.

Yes, Black women have carried many of the burdens that have weighed down on Black people through history; but, what does that have to do with the interaction of boyfriend & girlfriend, or husband and wife?

I've seen a lot of Black women dating white men as of late. It stirs a little anger in me, but what can I do about it?

I think more people are angry because what he said was more true than it was offensive.

But that could just be my opinion.

Life goes on, and I still love Black women.

"Black peoples’ mentality is real fucked up in general [and] it’s affecting everything." -Slim Thug
 
Written by Yohance Serrant
 
*The opinions expressed here are the views of the writer and do not necessarily reflect
my views and opinions.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Love, Lamentations & Lessons

Many nights and some days single me and relationship lorn me do battle. They wrestle, sling mud, it can get quite nasty. But, love longing me get’s caught daydreaming of a life partner. Someone to interlock fingers with. Veg out on my couch with. Cook meals for. Inspire my writing. Through all of my desires I’ve come to realize how hard it is to meet, cultivate and sustain a relationship.

While cleaning my room last night my past revealed itself through cards, letters, poems & gifts given by past loves. With every brief smile, slow sigh & light huff, I was reminded of the mistakes I’ve made along the way.

One man professed a love for me that left him bewildered, dumbfounded. I was too young mentally & in spirit to grasp it. My rejection was as sharp as his love was heavy. We share life through a son now. It saddened me to know how much I’d hurt him. This hurt is a reflection of the nature of our current relationship. Disdain, no harmony, contempt. A constant ebb & flow of digression.

My trip down memory lane continued with the odds cards and gifts given by the man I once considered the love of my life. If there was a tangible way to measure love, by sight or touch we would have been the instrument used to tackle such a feat. When time, growth & maturity became the agent of our dismantling, there was still grace. We shared blame for our demise. Possession, infidelity, control. Me not wanting to be my mother & him not wanting to be his father. Unknowingly, our attempts to outrun our makers made us martyrs.

I have had some relationships beyond these that obviously didn’t last. The mirror’s imagine doesn’t always reflect a victim in the end. I’ve been a fence sitter, a brick wall builder, a busy body in the midst of a relationship. Before fully opening the door, I’ve retreated.

Most times I celebrate my freedom, celebrate that as I please I can do. Oftimes, in the midst of this so called celebration, I feel like putting my glass down, turning on all the lights & sweeping up the confetti. Yes, I know through Christ I am never alone. Yes, I’m blessed to be able to manage my household & care for my son. Yes, I have beautiful sister friends & a caring family. For all of this I am beyond grateful, as I am fully aware that I am more fortunate than many others.

Then there are fleeting moments of lament, questions & longing. How do I squeeze this proverbial him into an increasingly tightening schedule? What is the integration process? What do I sacrifice? Moreover, at what point do I deem him worth the sacrifice? People say when you meet the right one, everything will work out. Honestly, at this point that sounds absurd.

I’ve learned to remain prayerful, to keep a smile on my face and across my heart. I have also realized that I don’t know all of the answers. That realization leaves me wearing the most ill-fitting shoes ever. How can the sage, the diplomat be without an explanation, some type of rationalization? The reason lives within me, hidden in my spirit, in vivid colors & honest exchanges. As long as I continue to search for the reason, maybe through this revelation, I will find that ever illusive WE.

Through all that I feel, more than any other feeling I am grateful for Hope. Through hope I am not bitter, afraid or callous. Hope sustains the longing, nurtures the desire & keeps fear at bay. So with a hopeful heart, mind & spirit I am a student of my past, an active participant in my present & patiently anticipating my future.

Peace & blessings,
Mykisha