addendum

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- Rumi

imma say a coupla things then i'm through

Note: This will be the last log of this blog. Time to move.

some things are so sacred, until they're shat on.

and i can't believe the audacity of some people. the total classless, base & opportunism of those/ gamblers in the Church
Jesus was so outraged that he lashed out! we.are.talking.JESUS!

hold your mule, as the old folks say

i guess i'm just old fashioned or sentimental.
i honor that which i love or have loved, in any capacity
hold on-going memorials, i polish the memories & put them away
they are precious relics

those are my grandmother's blankets/ i never thought i'd have to tell you/
i expect respect

(*close my eyes to see the other side:
i need warmth comforting companionship
things are rough, i'm stressed, i'm hurt
will she care, i don't care if she cares, she shouldn't care
it's only fair, it's mine too, i can do whatever i want with "mine"..)


ours
ours, our home, our Church,
of love, heartheadclashing sharing laughing, tears
we were everything here
there was nothing that was "mine"
am i too sentimental?
i don't want you back
we weren't happy enough
i want us happy

but at the expense of undoing this home?

something's got a hold on me

Late but new, Neenah 4.0 is emerging.

Have you ever felt a skin shedding? I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye.
In my dreams, I have become prominent. The usual spirit-moods, colors & ancestors have taken a backseat to my internal clamoring. The light is bright & I am blind & confused.

Everything seems alien, again, like before when I was pregnant with something. I've never been with child but I've heard how things smell stronger, strange; sight may shift; and you may become so beautiful. How beautiful will I be?

The sentiment is the same. This body doesn't feel like mine. Today, I glanced in the mirror as I washed my hands and the color of my eyes startled me.

I can't be faithful to a thought or emotion...

: I did say I wanted a change, that I needed to get in better shape, grow/cut my hair, buy some new clothes, etc. Be careful what you wish for. Nommo is real.
But how often do we say these things without action?
So, I suppose I should be grateful that I'm being "compelled" ("pushed" is more like it). God knows, I need it.

duality: not just a pisces thang

Discipline vs. In-do-time (aka Procrastination)

The Heavyweight Championship

Very soon, I will have 1.5 jobs, be a professional socialite, a student, a teacher & a dream ridden writer. My hair is getting longer & needs nurturing. My metabolism is slowing & requires I anti up my exercise & diet regime. I may even allow myself to be fool hearted enough to love again.

Sounds kinda busy. I don't like busy. I like chill. Daydream, paint your nails, rocking chair on the porch, chill. And this new-new is gonna make me have to change, like M-O kinda change. So I ask God, "Haven't I grown enough, we're not even 6 months into the year yet!?"
*Sigh*
I guess I've skated by long enough. But how long does it have to feel like hard work until it metamorphoses into a routine? ..."Routine"!?! I detest routines!
*Throw up my hands*
I don't get it! How am I supposed to negotiate these extremes?

in chanting

exercise exercise exercise
everyday the same thing to get something different, sounds kinda stupid to me. so instead of having a roommate i was home, high and half-naked on the couch
exercise exercise exercise
at work today, the same place i went yesterday, i worked almost entirely on lesson plans to teach poetry. so, my profession is sort of self-indulgent, (cause one must first admit to being one), as i am encouraged to fall in love with the performance of self, as writing is
exercise exercise exercise
save your life & your cuteness with one stone!
be all that you can be
sometimes i miss TV
exercise exercise exercise
"enough". what is that really? i heard anything could be addictive. and if living is an inherently habitual thing, doesn't that make the meaning of life "extremity"?
exercise exercise exercise
patience is such a fucking virtue, i fucking hate it. especially when it imposes itself upon me. restaurant lines, projects, matters of the heart. i just wanna BE there already but...... *shrug*
exercise exercise exercise

zenish:life:3 parts

sing the last of a Staple Singer's song.

then, open your door, go ta werk, you know, blah blah blah

at the end of the day
you riding the #21 home
like the rest-brown, broke & tired
hard
worked
you thinking, "yeah, imma cook that chicken and probably just have some rice.."
{ doze off}
wake up in May on May
street smelling as it always do
of eggs & salsa, what i'm trying to say is
it's an ordinary day

then you humming,
hooowww.did you think about me at all.or happened to hear my call. cause i didn't get the chance to tell you/that i would want to see you again. oohh. hoowwww. iiiiii. mmmiissss. yyouuu

you love singing to yourself
and after all, it's a ordinary day
so you round the usual corner
thinking of chicken wings, jasmine rice, sex, lips, oh-shit-i-gotta-remember-to-wash-
and

BAM!




I am constantly surprised by the parody of life. Things are so dramatic these days. Sudden. Immediate. Even, urgent. As if there is anywhere really to go. Save here. Heaven in the bathroom bathtub. Hell, the hall closet. Every moment seems to need to be won. We beings are
desirous affairs of nature. Unreconciled with the truth of stillness.



lately, i miss, dish, eat, piss, diss, kiss, kiss, kisssssssss, piss, come, go, love, shop
I bought a pair of lovely Betsey Johnson's but I'm returning the rest.
I been praying and regaining some lost stuff... sniff*
But I haven't really been crying, as much as I been laughing
things aren't so bad,
things'll be better

that ole time religion: dedicated to Chelan'gat & Caron

my friend reminded me of this quote from Sister Act 2:

LORD! SEND A REVIVAL & LET IT BEGIN WITH ME!

(if you're lucky enough to have friends that feed your spirit, remind you of your beauty & reflect the Divine power that is GOD say "amen" right now & send a prayer of thanksgiving)

i had a waking dream last night and realized again, when i am in-tune with my inner god i got better control of my inner nigga.
i dreamed i slapped one of my kids for not studying hard enough. the whole scene was overly dramatic; she whined & wailed, i shouted & threw paper. it was operatic. the sheer ferocity of the dream had me stuck in bed, wide-eyed, watching the clock tick way past late.
and what happened? i rushed to work only to find my co-workers in dramatic repose, detailing some ancient ancient anecdote, new to me, of why our checks would now be 2 weeks late....

... ????!!!!!! ..........!!!!!!????

...over the past 4 days i've been fucking mad. angry, at emotional investments whose stock is down, flat & staring at me like, "what's wrong witchu?" angry, cause he's not sad. angry, so i won't be sad no mo. angry at myself for... being in a place & space to make me mad. angry, at the world for shitting on black children. angry, that my friends are everywhere in the world but here. angry, cause muthafukkng management at work is so obviously & unapologetically, trifling. angry, cause black woman is still the mule of the world...

anger!/when it's flaming hot/anger burns to the bitter end/know what i'm talkin bout/..../i said anger, can make you sick children, oh Jesus!/anger destroys your soul


*sigh* it's been 4 days, i'm giving myself 3 mo cause what some folk don't realize is anger has a place & is a necessity of change. see, anger is a kind of "dwelling on/in", ya dig? a cousin of mourning, a shitty-spirited mulling; when bereft of something, anger is the recognition of hurt and the impudence of feelings of entitlement. so often, it's compared to fire for the wrong reasons, cause really the shit is more than dangerous, it's useful.
i need this anger for 3 mo days so i can be strong. so i don't cry & feel sorry for myself; so i don't run around confused & unsure of what to do; so i can move forward. when used correctly, anger will direct & motivate some serious progress. and when you been going through it like i have over the past 3 months, and have a certain "coolness" of understanding (re: early blog subtitled "bite me"), it will usher in some revival-type crunktivity that will blow your metaphysical mind, oh Jesus, yes Lawd, it will.
let it work.



"It takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both."
James Baldwin

amen.

i can't recall being held: mourning

Sweet, sweet bitter love
The taste still lingers, going through my helpless fingers
You slipped away, ooh yes you did

Sweet, sweet bitter love
What joy you taught me
What pain you brought me
And so sure to stay

My magic dreams have lost, have lost their spell
Where there, where there was hope
There's an empty, there's just an empty shell

Oh sweet, my sweet bitter love
Why have you awakened and then forsaken
A trusting heart, a heart like mine...


My bed is empty and my calls don't turn the voice I hear into my man. A woman like me knows too well when she is alone, has a cold Sunday of memories to remind her. Ain't nothing can be done but to leave it behind. Become blind and numb for a while...until it's time to be a fool again