**Rhetoric**

Isn't it ironic

that when we've erased all trace of what was

cleared our frontal lobe of all memory

that all it takes

is seven words

from an unknown phone

"hi stranger. How are you...it's _____________"

and i am once again

sucked

back

into you?

**flashbacks**

almost a month later and i find myself intermittently trapped in thoughts of you
flashbacks that brings a smile to my lips...a curve splaying across my face that seems to illuminate me from within
and with it...a frown that reminds me how much i hated the aftermath of the seemingly forbidden
and then the tears come...as i remember the last time
when you freed me....and in the same breath...trapped me within the cradle of your arms
these thoughts are the worse
to realize that I've lost what I've always wanted
but never really had
and now i crave you here once more
pulling you through the letters of your name that i trace with my fingers
highlighted by the glow on the screen
i dream you into being

Portia's Speech from the Merchant of Venice

I will forever love this excerpt:

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven,
Upon the place beneath.
It is twice blessed.
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
It is mightiest in the mightiest,
It becomes the throned monarch better than his crown.
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
An attribute to awe and majesty.
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself.
And earthly power dost the become likest God's,
Where mercy seasons justice.
Therefore Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of justice we all must see salvation,
We all do pray for mercy
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.
I have spoke thus much to mittgate the justice of thy plea,
Which if thou dost follow,
This strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentance gainst the merchant there.

Detox Mode

So i did a Colonic on sunday...interesting experience.
I did it purely for the health benefits...been meaning to give up a few things diet-wise and this seemed like a great way to get started. Then I realised that there were a few more things in my life that i needed to get rid of...people, things, excess baggage. So this is me letting go...of all the bad things/that i thought were good things/yet they could never have been good for me in the first place:-)
I'm eating better...healthier...i've lost a total of 7lbs AND my skin is the clearest that it has been in years. What makes it even better is that this is only day 5 on my detox. Then i've decided to go on a journey to discover what i need as opposed to what i want...lol...yeah this one should be fun. So until next time....this is me signing out

As we lay...

You stripped me bare tonight/made me vulnerable
After 3 months
You're back again/this time stamping your seal on every inch of my being
Claiming me/making me yours
or so it seemed
Closure...yet, not really
Because while became sorted/the issue of the 'past
you've re-entered my life with the force of a hurricane that often demolishes these parts
This time would be harder
This time/i may not be able to survive your departure/
when it comes

Writer's block?

Maybe i have it...i seem to be neglecting my little blog but i have a few thoughts that i need to get off my chest....so will be back when the time is right

Leaving

I heard you were leaving.

I'm torn.

But it all makes sense now.

If you knew, then why didn't you tell me?

Was this what the 'surprise' was all about?

Now i'm more confused because while out of sight equals out of mind...

I miss you too much already

Content in knowing

That although I never saw you/
never called you/
never kept in touch

You were here.

Emotionally Disturbed?

My SO's brother passed away yesterday.

I felt nothing.

This was what I wanted, for whatever reason.

He cried.

I held him.

His mom cried.

I held her.

I felt sorry for their pain.

Then my SO's ex showed up.

I got pissed.

I left the house. He called me selfish.

THEN, I cried.

Books Galore!!!!

So I've been on a book binge lately and having too much fun...yes i'm a nerd and proud of it!!!
The thing is, finding something that grabs and keeps my interest takes as much time as browsing the stores for something that's loose enough, close enough, tight enough, just right enough for my body that it becomes just as frustrating as finding THE perfect outfit to wear on a girls night out! Books really are like clothes...we all have our own style and what one person likes, the other may not! Unfortunately, like those bad fashion trends that EVERYONE seems to follow there are also books that have mass followings even though they are repetitious and and more or less the same script even though written by different authors. You know what I'm talking about...the Eric Jerome Dickey's and Omar Tyree's and Zane's..lol....i can't knock their hustle but i am absolutely fed up of the so called street lit..the 'gangsta lit' the i'm so horny all i wanna do is fuck lit....yes, i've read em...i went through a phase...but it's sad to browse amazon or B&N looking for reccs by black authors only to find books on Takwanda and the buff neighbour next door going at it like rabbits until her pussy is sore.

Anyhoo...here's my reading list...maybe you'll like em...maybe not...it really is all about personal taste:

"Purple Hibiscus" and "Half of a Yellow Sun"- Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie

Unburnable- Marie-Elena John

Before the Legend: The Rise of Bob Marley- Christoper John Farley

"How I Became a Madman' and 'Sand and Foam' by Khalil Gibran

A Caribbean Tale- Rudy Gurley

John Crow's Devil- Marlon James

to be cont'd...

This Business of Blogging

I've realized that I need to write more. The thing is that I've recently been uncovering gems in the forms of novels that I don't feel the need to write just yet. But I want to write. I have aspirations of being a writer. Today I considered forgoing my Law Degree in favour of one in Journalism or Creative Writing and then i shook the clouds away and convinced myself that Law was what I needed to do.
Wouldn't it be neat though to spend your days creating works that will touch and move people? Something? Anything that would reach out to the human in us rather than the savage? So until I pen the next best thing..I may as well blog my thoughts...:-)

Good Luck

When I realize that I cannot write
That my thoughts no longer congeal on the page in a meaningful coherency
I know that you have stolen my spirit.
That I can no longer write poetry to the way you move;
No longer script lines over muscled arms
The finality of good luck shatters my resolve
Squeezing soundless tears from my eyes
As my throat constricts with the tears that I do not cry
The tears that you would never dry
For you did not know
That while you took a piece of me
with every encounter
You, without reciprocity,
Shattered my resolve with good luck.

The Question...

Earlier this week someone posed a question...

Q: What do you give a person who has everything?

Then, my answer was

A: You give them what their heart desires most

Now, my answer is

A: Nothing...you leave them to fuck alone!

Incoherent Thoughts

I've read recently that there are two kinds of worlds; the one we live in and the real one. Our 'world' is quite relative...it is based on our perception; one that stems from the experiences we may have had...or those through which we have lived vicariously...nevertheless, we assume a life that is 'expected' whether it be by our or someone else's standards.

Our biggest problem is that we often lie to ourselves. We convince ourselves that we are unique... special...different...liberal....democratic...conservative...
unpredictable...or the worst of them all, "free". LOL...the constitution is a lie....we have no fucking freedom. Freedom of speech is not absolute...look at Dom Imus...freedom of religion is an even bigger joke...Osama proved that. We're not free to live, die, eat, breathe, sleep....most of these so called freedoms are dependent on certain factors: do we have enough food? what if i'm run over by a truck? What if some asshole decided that as a part of his religious freedom, he's gonna sacrifice my ass for the greater good?

What we have become are slaves. The most liberal of us. The most independent of us. The most open-minded of us. We have become slaves to the norm, to the accepted, to a society that would have set standards based on what worked then instead of what works now....and guess what? We, the free, do what is expected of us. We're either expected to conform or rebel. We either agree or we don't or we agree to disagree, which is the worst of all choice because it suggests complacency, lack of courage, predictability. The worst kind of slavery is when a man would sell his soul to fit in, be accepted, be understood...only to realize that he who stands out is revered, feared, looked upon as a source of wisdom and many would sell their souls...attend conferences, pay millions of dollars on books he wrote to experience his brand of peace.

I spoke to a friend of mine tonight who taught me what i already knew...he made me realize the things i refused to admit, to accept...he gave me his brand of peace...a brand similar to mine...showing me that in a world where we are EXPECTED to to fit...it's quite ok to lose pieces of the puzzle. If tonight you decide to take a peek up my literary skirt, as loose and disjointed as this may be...I know that you get me;)

State of holiness....or madness?

On my quest to read 3 books per month, I picked up a little gem at the book store. Don't get me wrong...i LOVE to read...but for some reason it appears as if the authors of the 21st century have forgotten how to write. I get bored with most novels after the first three pages and the shelves in my room can attest to this fact; crammed tight they are...creaking and groaning under the weight of scores of books left to be completed...but i digress.

"The Zahir' caught my eye for one reason: The cover portrayed a woman's silhouette...lost, it seems, in a desert...her face hidden by shadows cast by the sun. I checked the author. Paulo Coelho, one i've never read but have been meaning to...the infamous author of the 'The Alchemist' who's prose had turned me off after the first page...but again i digress.

The Zahir, as described by Jorges Luis Borges, is visible, present, incapable of going unnoticed. It is someone or something which, once we have come into contact with them or it, gradually occupies our every thought until we can think of nothing else. This can be considered either a state of holiness or madness.

And so...this is my revelation.

We each possess a Zahir...something which refuses to leave our minds; someone that possesses our soul...bleeding thoughts onto a page in such a senseless, reckless and incoherent manner that we are unaware of what we write until we write it; nothing makes sense as our deepest thoughts are spilled, the carnage great as the war in our minds leads us to one conclusion. We are no longer who we thought we were. We have become what we were meant to be but didn't have the courage or the incentive to manifest before.

Does it matter that your blood runs through my veins?

Should I care that i inhaled your soul, tasting your core...promising myself that possession is not possible, that i am stronger than that insipid emotion...yet knowing that as I walk away my scars would be visible, bleeding...fighting to grasp onto a life that could only be a fleeting thought?

Should it matter that I see your face in my dreams; and i am afraid to close my eyes because when I do...all i think, breathe, feel see, hear is you?

Should it matter?

Realization

I think we make decisions knowing fully well what the outcome would be. We make choices; to be, to do, to think or act...or not and deep down we have some clue as to what awaits us on the other side. So I made that decision knowing what would happen...knowing where i stood, knowing that it would never go the way I wanted it to but instead trickle off into that stream that leads to hurt and despair and regret. We all prefer to believe that we're strong enough as we posess that prior knowledge...if it were that simple then life would be easier...but at the same time it would be boring and as humas we live for, eat, sleep and breathe the unknown. We live for those moments when we can step out without a backward glance; where we can step with surety towards that which we do not know...because the anticipation of the unknown draws us...pulls us...tempts us like a seductress aware of our weaknesses and using that to her advantage.
So now here I am unsure if what i feel is regret or if i had known that this is what would have been. What I do know, however, is that my life would never, ever be the same.

*sigh*

Today was a great day.

I'm often surprised at the way information tends to find me; tucked away in my lil corner with my headphones for friends.

With every little stone that i unturn...every leaf that unfolds, I become quite disenchanted with you. You were like a mystery waiting to be solved...and yet in a short space of time i was able to figure you out...now that i have...i'm encanted no more.

I'm not even surprised. I'm disappointed.

Alas! Where is the mystery in life? Where is the surprise? The unpredictability?

I'm bored.

Really

Can't you tell?

PSA

So i've learnt that even adults can revert to childish tendencies...but that's cool.
I've learnt that liars and fakes and people who use people exist even more in my adult life than they did in teens...but that's cool.
I've learnt that men...lol...men will always be men, like a squirrel looking for a nut...but that's cool.

Hear me out fellas:

YOU do NOT own me
YOU do NOT impress me
YOU do NOT know me
YOU were just a notch in my belt and as my waist gets smaller...my need to replace you grows in leaps and bounds.

With that said, please do me a favor and go fuck yourself.

Creepin'

The phone rings
I pick up
I need you, you sigh
I miss your lips, your eyes
I need to hear your muffled cries
As you press your head into my chest
As i nibble down your neck to your breast
I wanna feel your lips on my cock
make my heart stop
with the way you straddle my hip
sas you ride the waves that roll and dip
as you trip
land
fall
into my arms
as you exhale...
I'll meet you, I said
But you'll have to give me some time
He's here
So you'll have to wait
And so i hang up
A smile on my lips
thinking bout the way you'll make me trip
land
fall
into your arms
reminscing bout the roll and dips
and the way I'd straddle your hips
as the waves crashed
smashed
molded
our bodies together
waiting til he leaves
so that i can get dressed
and give you our time.

Girl's Night Out

I've realised that women need each other.

We need to belong, to create a world that exists only within our group, to be cliqueish to a point that borders on sickeneing; to gossip...to laugh...to drink and get drunk lol...to just be us.

Last night was one of those nights...those blessed friday nights when I put the SO aside and chilled with my 'girls'. I can define my girls too...the entrpreneur, the model, the lesbian and moi...the member of the justice crew. Martini's and tequila's...bloody mary's and margaritas...all blending together into one of the most intoxicating cocktails to hit that bar, that pub, that club. Dealing with the pests that linger..wanting to dance, buy us a drink...take us back to their place and i'm like WTF? Do we look like we want dick all up in our pussy fest? If we wanted dick our men (and women lol) would be here with us!!!

Dudes please!!!!! A group of two is tryna get laid! A group of four or more...well girls just wanna have fun...by themselves....without the consistant prattle and the plying of drinks to get us drunk enough to agree to fuck you!

But ladies I gotta tell you something. The morning after is a bitch! I'm off to pop some advil and flush my system with water...

I can't wait til next Friday