WindowSeat

Erykah Badu is singing in my background and instead of letting it play I rewind or fast-forward to the chorus and I sing…“can I get a window seat, don’t want nobody next to me… I just want a ticket out of town, a look around and a safe touch down”

And then I realize that I want to escape, a GRAND escape…a “Where in the World is Carmen SanDiego” escape...a nobody knows where I am escape… an escape that includes post cards that read “Hello, I am Safe”, and letters to my children that say “I love you and I’ll be home soon, voice mails that utter I miss you, and emails that read “Backpacking through Europe”…


“Sooooo…. can I get a window seat, don’t want nobody next to me… I just want a ticket out of town, a look around and a safe touch down…:”




The honest truth is that I was never met to be anchored and maybe this would explain why I only feel a sense of home around my children… I know I don’t belong to any particular place, but I believe I belong to the movement of trees on windy nights, swaying in and out of freedom’s warmth …or maybe I belong to the ocean where my ebbs flow to distances pass forever, swirling in passionate crests, that tide the beaches with caress…


Drifting…

“can I get a window seat, don’t want nobody next to me… I just want a ticket out of town, a look around and a safe touch down…


I wanna get to that place where my body is allowed to melt into a cloud and mate with raindrops…. Or maybe that place past the horizon, beyond night, and just before heaven where I can walk meadows of lilac and admire my purple footprints…


“can I get a window seat, don’t want nobody next to me… I just want a ticket out of town, a look around and a safe touch down…


I’d like one ticket,
out of town,
going nowhere in particular,
just away from here…


long enough to miss and be missed

Thoughts/Feelings .vs. People

                                                             My writing energy is at an ALL TIME LOW!!! I don’t know what’s keeping me but I feel compelled to write about People, thoughts, and feelings and the truth about them. I may be venting but I have noticed that most of us Live in the Context of our thoughts, we expect everybody to say, think and do what we would say, think, and do…How is that living or enjoying who someone really is if you are expecting something that is impossible?????

Example…

                                              In short, I made a comment and explained what my thoughts and feelings were. The person looks at me and says, “I would have never said that to you”, My thoughts were well I don’t expect you too since you’re not me and I’m not you, but because they said their feelings were hurt I kept that part to myself. But it has been gnawing at me for days…why is it so important for people to say and do what others think they should. Can’t you love/like/befriend someone because of the differences, their sheer uniqueness, and try to understand them in the terms they live in and not your own. I thought people owned their own thoughts and feelings and were free to think according to whatever tone they choose?


                            I am a lot of things and at the same time I’m not a lot of things…I’m in repair… I let people be free to think, feel, and do as they please, I want to like you for the person you are not the person I want you to be. If my feelings get hurt in the process help me understand the logic of your thinking so I understand not change to comfort me.


             For these reasons I don’t share my thoughts or feelings they are private, and most people don’t understand them or want to take the time to understand, because they are too busy trying to hear what they want you to say, so why say anything?

We have two ears and one mouth for a reason…

Therefore I am quick to think and slow to speak …

phone bill priority

It would seem as if lately this is a place I come too to vent, and I guess that would be true but at least I’m writing something because for so long I haven’t pressed fingers against keyboard or mated pen with paper and besides… I promised to write whatever there was to write so, we’ll all have to bear with each other and hope that all parties involved are appreciative.

Where do I start this time???

…. At the beginning….

If quiet is kept and the loud mouth is forbidden to speak, then the truth can be set on display… that truth is I set my ex-Love up at times… and maybe it can’t be called a set up but I ask him to do things I know he probably won’t do, and sometimes I am surprised when he comes through. I didn’t realize this until just now, but I test him from time to time… See the thing is “he” says “he’s” ready to come home, ready to have his family back, so I test the theory to see how ready “he” is… I even check with his mother to see if “he’s” been the father “he should” be to “his children”, and every time “he” fails the temperature check… fast forwarding to the present I ask if “he” would pay my phone bill… Conversation starts and “he” agrees first asking how much $50, followed by can I pay it where I am? Where are you? In Richmond. Yes Love, is my response. OK, I’ll take care of it Baby, called ended… I call back around midnight and “he” doesn’t answer, and I already know that “he” didn’t take care of it; I already knew that when yesterday preceded into today, I would awake to disconnected services.


So the question is why does it matter, or why did you ask if you already knew the outcome… Both questions have the same answer: because it was a Chance… People give each other chances every day without even telling them. We test each other and never speak of it… We seek to know the true intentions of a person; we yearn to know if we are truly a priority. In my case I already knew the answer… See the thing is “my ex-Love” still resides in my heart and I talk myself into believing that if “he” fails enough tests, and if I give myself enough chances to see who “he” really is then I can out maneuver him and reclaim my heart, somehow I can prove “he” isn’t worthy of my love, affection and devotion, and then I will be able to rinse him from my heart. Am I mad “he” didn’t pay the phone bill? No. Am I upset my phone is off? No.

I’m only saddened to know that I am truly not a priority,

yet “he” would have me

“THINK” that I am…

exiting friendship

Friendship is a tricky thing… you go up, down, in and out and instead of just being you have to work at and through life! One would assume that being a friend is easy, because all you have to do is be there… But friendship is a tricky thing…it’s easier than being a mother, father, sister, or brother tied together in blood. Friendship is conditional when you’ve had enough you can simply walk away, things can be undone, broken, cast away and left to rot…friendship is a tricky thing…

And sometimes just sometimes there are friendships that last, friendships that cross the conditional lines and evolve into foundations of concrete… sometimes there are friendships that have bled and screamed, laughed and cried over scattered dreams that life managed to destroy. Sometimes in those foundations of concrete a pact is forged, because the needy are hungry and the quiet need voices… sometimes friendships last and sometimes they are deaded, like unclaimed corpses left in the morgue…

Friendship is a tricky thing there are rules, boundaries, and conditions… that involve jealousy, commitment, and love… sometimes there is an ending, sometimes there is a beginning, and sometimes things are left in limbo, and sometimes there’s only silence.

 Friendship is a tricky thing different from relation, there is a choice in the matter, and today I am making the choice to withdraw, a slow drawing of the curtain followed by the dimming lights that will finish in silence and darkness. Friendship doesn’t always mean forever sometimes it’s just in the mean time for a season or until this storm is over!

 I’ve been toying with this for a while but I have grown out of my circle, there’s nothing there for me… no motivation, no putting together of ideas, just contentment, and no growth, just more of the same. As I learn, grow, and want to explore, and research the new ideas inside of me I realize that I am not on the same page. They are still trending in the past while I am swimming to a future. I need to be surrounded by people with are going to where I want to go or are already there. People that are focused, ambitious, motivating…people who congregate in coffee houses and discuss things I’ve never thought about!

    Friendship is a tricky thing… and now it’s time for me to make myself scarce and fade into invisibility….

Farewell



Lost & Found

                So I’m going through my flash drive and I stumble upon a folder that reads “Wedding Plans”… the funniest thing is that I forget it existed, and I hadn’t opened it since April 2010, almost two years ago… I should have deleted it on site but I didn’t I opened the folder and every document it contained… *deepbreathe* Let’s say it put a small damper on my high spirits or maybe I’m just trying to remember to forget what was. It’s sad that one person can change everything you ever thought about things, and what I am now is not exactly who I used to be… Now I am cautious, callous, and calculating… and to make matters worse I have no interest in sharing myself, at least not the way I used too.



See this is the thing…


*deepbreathe*             I wanted to have his babies           2, 3, or 4 of them


*deepbreathe*             I wanted to bend his realities        cast away the past


*deepbreathe*                   ……………………………                 but I’m no God



               If the truth has to be told… I knew better, but my morals and principles rests in truth, possibilities, justice, righteousness, and second chances… If God lends us second chances shouldn’t man???? I loved him completely regardless of everything, the crimes sentenced, the sins committed, the lies, the nights out, the silent moments that grew cold…


                And still …. I wanted to have his babies, wanted to get married, wanted to give life to the dreams we each had and the ones we dreamed up together…I wanted us to be everything beyond what normal people think love is…because to us love was an active experience something you lived, breathed and touched daily…I wanted all the things I never wanted before, and with him those wants materialized into a needs…


                So finding the wedding I once started to plan makes me remember how deep and willing I used to be… Seeing all that loved displayed on my PC’s screen reminded me that one day, I’d like to experience it again even though, parts of me know it will never happen!!!!

master piece

                                                            
this time i wanted him to paint me in lyric,
a quiet melody with screaming bass lines, haunted by a murmuring treble clef…

this time i needed him to beat my womb in tandem with his heart
and let sweat beads gather in unison,

as
his breath sweeps across my neck traveling,
to where tongue meets collar bone, and
sweet lullabies are sung,
pacing to that place where his heart captures my soul
and ravages my spirit…


slowly,

intentionally,

burning secret desires into my womb
until I whisper his name,
beg him to repeat his rhythm,


on countertops…
backs against mirrors…
hips on stove…


slowly…intentionally…

tongues exchange language,
bodies translate,
and limbs write our verses into pillows,
while we drum our melody into the bed posts…
we call it sheet music


brow to nose,
lips to cheek,
sweat beads on chin,
pelvis thrust,
bodies creep into a bending passion,
making puddles of nectar,



While the Sheet Music Plays


©brokenSILENCE


                                    

lights, camera, action...

Every year I promise to write more on this thing.... And every year I don't... So I'm not promising or saying.. I'm just going to start doing... My newest creation.... Let me know what you guys think...

Poetry blended with passion, long walks to the theatre cuddled mid row, watching… waiting, lights dim, and the lovers pull each other close, close enough to kiss just before the opening act….

Lights, camera, action…

Lonely moments comforted by thoughts of the conversations that draws circles,

Cold nights, warmed by memories of flowers, cards and surprise visits…

The aftermath of the smells, tastes laced by touch…

Climbing to the peak,

Falling into a waterless ocean, but somehow soaked by its essence…

lights, Camera, action…

I wanna allow myself to,

Place fingers on dial pad,

Phone to ear,

And hold my breathe until I hear the sound of his voice…

The thickness mixed with concern

“Hello”

The easiness

“I miss you”

Knowingly

“I wish we could just be”

Lights enhance the picture while capturing the action of the love we had… each day I wish I had prayed for a something to shake loose the memories, and undo the done… a prayer to melt the chains that link your existence in my heart…

…Lights…

but if we talk about the truth,

…Camera…

I nurture every memory, protecting it from everything that was wrong,

…Action…

because I simply don’t want to dirty the you in me!

Lights, camera, Action…

I love you

Lights camera, action…

Forever…

(c) brokensilence



tuned in....

                 For a long time I’ve been contemplating on what to write, what to say, and how much of it to say… I could never decide, so I decided that it’d be best not to say anything, maybe wearing the weight of life on my hips is enough, maybe being silent is the remedy but, I have found no refuge in the fogginess of silence… and since my thoughts are no longer peaceful, I began to write again, not on paper but on the walls of my thoughts…for the most part I am satisfied in the sanctuary I have conceived but I often wonder what will happen when I fill the walls of my thoughts, and bend my brain into pages… will I pen memories or dreams? Will some intellectual dam break and bleed out?


I still question what to say and when to say it…

Stay Tuned…..

valentine hope

every once in a while i get the notion to share , i really don’t like to share my writing… mostly i keep it to myself, partly because i’m more of what i write than what people see. if that makes any sense at all… so i share with strangers here…leaving the most intimate parts of myself on here and refusing to think twice about what i’ve said or what they’ll take it to mean…i continue to be selective about who i invite into this area of my life… i choose people who have war wounds, scars that life kicked salt into, fresh bruises from old lovers, scabs that haven’t completely healed, and blisters that need stitches instead of ointment…they understand that everything is not what it seems, and appreciate the truth instead of beautiful lies…



once in a while i get the notion to share like on valentine’s day when i wrote him a poem, hoping it would explain the things my mouth wouldn’t say…knowing that maybe he’ll understand and maybe he won’t…but trying nonetheless to reach pass all the concrete, and break away the granite, so i could sit next too his shuddering heart, just to keep it company…build a campfire and listen to it beat, be its company and maybe hear it say “thank you, i was cold and lonely”… i wrote what words couldn’t say, and asked him to name its spirit… i signed my name and wrote:




i’ve wanted to hold you for a long time now...

wanted to wrap my mind around yours and warm your heart with my hands,

wanted to hold you in places you won’t go,

places you’re afraid to acknowledge,

places you haven’t discovered…



i’ve wanted to hold you in moonlight according to candlelight psalms,

watch the heavens heal the earth and call it a horizon…



i've wanted to measure your pain with pleasure,

match your distance with comfort

wanted to be your fever so you’d sweat passion…



i’ve wanted to hold you for a long time now,

so let me…




he understood,
and said,
"b, you make me want to write you poetry"...

salvaged

he didn’t always understand my poetry…. he didn’t always understand that sometimes, i talk in riddles… but he understood that i love the way sunshine feels on my skin, he understood that i liked to share…

i tried to love him

tried to tie it around his neck,

stuff it deep in his pockets,

and told myself that,

he’d carry it around with him…

promised myself that it’d be enough

but…. it didn’t work…

plan aborted… access denied…mission unsuccessful…

it didn’t work….

but i wanted it too, i needed it too…

he didn’t always understand me but somehow i fascinated him, and somehow i intrigued him into loving me because my affection was innocent… i loved without conditions or return…i loved the man he was, and the man he wanted to be…i loved him when he had nothing to give and everything to gain….for these reasons he loved me but…

couldn’t sustain, couldn’t fight,

didn’t know what was at stake,

with temptation invading,

there was no fail-safe, no life jacket…

so we sank, drifted, and sank some more…

somehow i managed to find the find the surface, managed to collect some of the debris, and cast away the forsaken memories…comforting myself with possibilities of resuscitating what died in his arms,

drifting…

floating…

into oblivion.