Definitively Vocab

Is this thing on?

2012-01-11T00:52:00.000-08:00

No one reads my blog anyways sooo why not post??
Reading over my past blogs seems so much has changed in my life.
Wowers!!! You look up and the people that you thought would never leave you have scurried like rodents when the lights are turned on. You hear older folks say things like that all the time and you blow them off... Thinking to yourself "that will never be me." Boy was I wrong. Heeding the wisdom of our elders would save us so much grief. Why is it that we don't listen more often? I am just checking to make sure this thing is still on. Mic check 1, 2!

The Foreign Exchange Project

2010-07-15T01:58:00.000-07:00

So this poem is written for a special friend who has encouraged me to begin blogging again. What will be hilarious is if she never even reads this...

Foreign Exchange Project
She was a hacky sack type of hyper when I spotted her
Oozing with salutation and smiles as she puffed her cigarette and exhaled
Giggling like a child with a gleeful glimmer in her toasted almond eyes
I was excited to meet her and
She couldn’t have been more happy to see me (and everyone else)
Like a bumble bee was buzzing in her panties
She was painting my evening a brighter shade of blue
And I was thankful for the unfamiliar warmth her smile held
I was ungluing all my misconceptions of her from the moment she spoke to me
“Hi, I’m Digh” is all she said.
Nothing exotic or foreign to it.
An exchange so matter of fact and bold that I will always remember that moment for what it was… unexpected and real.
So many things had been expressed to her about me, and to me about her from mutual friends; but we had never met. Until that moment I was just the black Christian poet from San Antonio and she was just the foreign Indian poet. The stranger poet living in, Corpus Christi, a city I knew all too well and loathed it for too many reasons to count.
But it was home just like her friendship. Welcoming like a coastal city breeze can be with a bit of salt and humidity to boot. Little did I know that her poetry was the truth and root of wisdom I needed to grow. Her talent the humbling kind spell binding me to silence when she’d recite prose or sing me a tune for a distant lover.
Little did she know then that she’d become my sister from another mister. As she spent her summer cooking me curry and opening my eyes to a culture I never once bothered to contemplate let alone comprehend.
From the moment we met she was and will always be my friend.
No pretending, but we do challenge each other to pursue our respective paths.
Place our passion and caution on a scale and weigh the possible outcomes. So we find ourselves gathering our gifts together to present them to the time as an offering… as a rites of passage to the future. We lay our journeys on the altar of hope not knowing what blessings or misfortunes may befall us.
And we share with each other because compensating for all our short comings alone is just exhausting. And beauty is much more breath taking when we gasp and grasp for it together. She is the bosom buddy that I will take to the grave, but her love is already buried in my heart…
In exchange I have given her mine whether she knows it or not.
I guess my love for a foreigner is all I’ve got. What a great way to pass the time.
7/15/10

Broken Circle

2009-12-08T01:31:00.000-08:00

"silence and panic are synonymous. lashes flutter, heart beat stutters, a collective internal gasp... a frozen moment burned into my mind." -Vocab

So this is my status statement on facebook right now and this moment describes how my sisterhood circle was broken. Names will be omitted to to protect identities. Here goes...

There I was sitting at Jim's about 4 a.m. Saturday night going into Sunday. My 4 closest female friends that live in the city and I were all eating out after dancing and celebrating my bday. I kept feeling like all night that the night would end disastrously even though lovely moments had occurred throughout... nothing could prepare me for the glass shattering rock that would break the beautiful image of lovely female bonding before me.
I had just been basking in the glow of warmth that friendship brings when out of the box... one of my friend looks up from her phone and drops the proverbial bomb.
She announces to the table that she has been receiving texts from a guy and he was "getting fresh with her." Only problem is the guy is already involved with another one of my other friends that is sitting at the table.
My response to the bomb dropper "___(insert her name)___ let's go have a talk."
She then to twist the knife in a little deeper she repeats her statement to the table about old boy getting fresh. She then hands me her phone so I can review the texts. All eyes on me dead silence. I am panicking scared out of my mind trying to deciphere the exchange.

it's at this point that I will tell you that all night there has been friction and tension between my 2 friends. I mean he(the dude getting fresh) was there earlier in the night and rock thrower was kinda flirting with him. Which was making my other home girls head spin. Plus the 2 had exchanged some sharp words over whose present (my bday gifts) was better and more personal. I think it goes deeper for my home girl that was texting. Perhaps my girl that was getting the texts feels slighted, threatened, bruised ego about whatever. Who knows what can make emotions rise like yeast.
All I know is that she waited to just the right moment to strike with the ultimate blow. Ending all of our evening sourly.

I know beyond a doubt that we can never have the strength and beauty we shared back again. Power and strength lies in women uniting and it's unfortunate that a man ended up coming between them. Funny thing is I think he was just a pawn and g.friend number 2 wasn't even interested in him. He was used because she knew it would hurt my other friend so much to know he was stepping out on her.

Now as for me, I have some evaluating to do. Some decisions to make. Maybe some friendships to end. That particular double cross was taken very personal on my part. Even though it wasn't directed at me I keep thinking: If she is capable of doing that to her. What would she do to me if opportunity presented itself?

Sadly there is even more to this story than I am telling but it's getting a lil long so I will cut it short here.
I have done some crying and a whole lot of sad sleeping over this situation.
I can't stand a broken circle.

Rosa Clemente

2008-10-31T01:49:00.001-07:00

Tonight I opened for Rosa Clemente OMG!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't even know what I was walking into and boy was I nervous. She is the most wonderful and intelligent down to earth person. MAN!! Pic coming soon hopefully if she emails it to me. She said she would. SO I took the liberty of posting some info of hers I got from WIKI!! MAN I am floored is all I gotta say.

Rosa Alicia Clemente (born 18 April 1972) is a United States community organizer, independent journalist and Hip-Hop activist. She is the vice presidential running mate of 2008 Green Party Presidential candidate Cynthia McKinney.[1]
Clemente was born and raised in South Bronx, New York. She is a graduate of the University of Albany and Cornell University. Clemente has been delivering workshops, presentations and commentary for over ten years.
Clemente's academic work has focused on research of national liberation struggles within the United States, with a specific focus on the Young Lords Party and the Black Liberation Army. While a student at SUNY Albany, she was President of the Albany State University Black Alliance (ASUBA) and Director of Multicultural Affairs for the Student Association. At Cornell she was a founding member of La Voz Boriken, a social/political organization dedicated to supporting Puerto Rican political prisoners and the independence of Puerto Rico.
Clemente has written for Clamor Magazine, The Ave. magazine, The Black World Today, The Final Call and numerous websites. She has been the subject of articles[citation needed] in the Village Voice, The New York Times, Urban Latino and The Source magazines. She has appeared on CNN, C-Span, Democracy Now and Street Soldiers. In 2001, she was a youth representative at the United Nations World Conference against Xenophobia, Racism and Related Intolerance in South Africa and in 2002 was named[citation needed] by Red Eye Magazine as one of the top 50 Hip Hop Activists to look out for.
In 1995, she developed Know Thy Self Productions (KTSP), a full service speakers bureau, production company and media consulting service. Seeing a need for young people of color to be heard and taken seriously she began presenting workshops and lectures at colleges, universities, high schools, and prisons. In the past ten years she has presented at over 200 colleges, conferences and community centers on topics such as "African-American and Latino/a Intercultural Relations", "Hip-Hop Activism", "The History of the Young Lords Party", and "Women, Feminism and Hip Hop". KTSP now includes an expanded college speakers bureau which has produced three major Hip Hop activism tours, "Dare to Struggle, Dare to Win" with M1 of dead prez and Fred Hampton Jr.; "The ACLU College Freedom Tour" with dead prez, DJ Kuttin Kandi, Mystic and comedian Dave Chappelle; and the "Speak Truth to Power" Tour a collaborative tour of award winning youth activists.
In 2003, Clemente helped form and coordinate the first ever National Hip Hop Political Convention that drew over 3000 activists who came together to create and implement a national political agenda for the Hip-Hop generation. 10 days after Hurricane Katrina ravaged parts of the south, Clemente traveled to the areas as an independent journalist and her on-the-ground reports were broadcast on independent radio stations all over the world, including Air America, NPR, Pacifica Radio, Democracy Now, Indymedia, Hard Knock Radio and many more independent and mainstream media outlets.

2nd Verse Oct. 10th Recap

2008-10-11T01:38:00.000-07:00

October 10 was another successful night of poetry under our belt. SO far so good!!
2nd Verse has become the answer to my prayers, supplication, and intercession all that WOOSAA! I must say again how good it is to have a local poetry spot I can come to and feel at home. No drama just good vibes and love.

Tonight we still had a packed house despite having to move our regularly scheduled program to a Friday night… further proving that San Antonio loves it’s poetry.

So here’s How, Who and What of the night in no particular order:

I (Vocab) kicked off the show accompanied by Zach on the drum with Speak of Woes.
Chris Ford read 2 and came back later with another piece later in the night
Zach read 2
Vunique read an excerpt from her up and coming book and came back with a short piece
Candice read 2 and man she was preaching to me with that second poem
Monique (Purobaby!) read 2 and came back for 1 more later in the night @ my request
Glo with A Womans Scorn ( I love that damn poem)
Isis Blue came through and did Cooley High Harmony still love it!!
Hill who I haven’t seen in years gave us 1 poem
Kiri dressed to the nines gave us 1 poem
Black Lotus (from H-town) gave us 3 pieces in total and got the standing ovation!! WOO
W.C. came up and did an impromptu piece with a “male muse” at her side modeling
Supa the “male muse” did a song called Passion after he finished being eye candy lol
C.W. Deuce our other other white poet hit the mic w/ a poem on a palm pilot high tech!
Kinton (even hit the mic wow!! I been waiting to hear you again)
I (Vocab Andrea whateva)closed out the show at the end of the night with one last poem.
*Midnight Radio came thru and unveiled a new song and new cover tune as a part of our set!

So when it was all said and done we had 15 poets with about 21 poems and two musical sets WOW WHAT A NIGHT. And to think I was so nervous cause when I started there was only 5 poets on the list and 1/3 of a crowd by the middle of the first poem the room was full and so was the list. I swear people came out of no where ha ha.
See you next month November 8th for another addition of 2nd Verse.

Winestyles
16535 Huebner Rd. Suite 112
San Antonio, Texas
8pm
Free for out of town performing poets.
Blessings see you soon!!

Haiku 4 You

2008-09-22T07:38:00.000-07:00

Cleaning Haiku
#1
Wipe down the toilet
Spray bottle clicking so quick.
Cleaning can feel gross.
#2
If I have to haul
one more bag to the dumpster
I will just collapse!

#3
I discovered me!!
plastic bags filled with poems
these words are my life.

#4
Tears frenchkiss my eyes
we have a makeout session
full, deep... without lips

#5
My sister walks in
catches me crying and thinks
poems cause the pain.

INSOMINIA HAIKU
Keyboard in motion
TEN O'CLOCK I'M STILL AWAKE
I WILL REGRET THIS

Why I don't write more haiku... haiku

I hate counting you!
Syllables are tricky things
I messed up haiku.

Sept 13th 2nd Verse

2008-09-14T23:52:00.000-07:00

Greetings Loved Ones,
I just wanted to thank everyone that came out to make The Official opening of 2nd Verse a success!! We were packed with standing room only our opening night… despite hurricane and evacuations. The turn out was a blessing from on high and Glo, Kinton, and I are overjoyed by the response from the community.
God held the rain from San Antonio but words flooded our souls and the wind of wisdom blew from poetic lips with ease. Special thanks to DJ Scef, Element 615, Edwin, and Angie G for enduring the possible threat of bad weather to be with us from out of town. Shout out to our microphone “virgins” Camille and Liz for enduring the jitters and speaking from your soul. Kudos to my band Midnight Radio for gracing us with music AND with the accompaniment of Rene Ford on saxophone I would venture to say we rocked the house soulfully. In no particular order this is what happened:

Midnight Radio opened the show with our new song Belvedere, and Angel:

Poets read NOT IN THIS ORDER:

T.S. Alex (FIRST ON THE MIC did 2 pieces from his respective chap books)
Chailyn Kavi 2 poems brand new piece about becoming a fire fighter and love poem
Edwin Deleon did a piece thank you for the good male energy on the mic
Edwin (from ATX)
Element 615
Glo did her piece ‘her house smells like death’
Kiri did her piece about loving poetry
Liz did 2 pieces gave a shout out to Chipotle
Camille gave us a bit about friendship and the lack thereof
Vocab Give me Jazz
Zach gave us two poems about music and jazz
Scef performed Brown Boys
Midnight Radio did a set to take us into a fun filled intermission
And we came back for a couple more poems from out of towners and
Chris Ford gave us a piece about his father
Angie G (Houston TX) (FINISHED OFF THE NIGHT)
Then Midnight Radio came back and gave 2 more songs to close the night

*If I left anyone off this list of performers please forgive me because, I don’t have the open mic list in front of me to refer to it...

Join us October 11th for the next installment of 2nd verse.

Thank you Mel Williams for allowing us into crowd up your venue
16535 Huebner Rd San Antonio TX. Winestyles
Check us out on the net www.winestyles.net/inwood

Clutter Poem

2008-09-08T23:26:00.000-07:00

SO EVERYONE NEEDS A LIST POEM... BUT I AM SO FREAKING LOQUACIOUS THAT I HAD TO WRITE A POEM THAT JUST INCLUDED A LIST POEM WITHIN IT. SORRY FOLKS.

CLUTTER POEM

Love is dripping down the sides of the cup of our relationship…
baby when you and I lose our cool completely
there is no flavor left in the remnants of our glass.
It's just a ring of condensation on the pages of our past.
We've confound space with clutter, and we don't butter our words…
we just toast each others buns.
Hun the chain of communication is broken.
We even leave arguments unspoken.
Now we throw each other sideways glances
and only give spiteful second chances with mutinous war embedded in our eyes,
cause we don't trust each other.
So the sun don't rise in these crescent lips of mine.
It's just an eclipse in that heart of yours.
The rain pours.
The muddle between us leaves tracks on our carpet
from puddles of soot and water that start to soil our saxony surroundings.
There are abounding boxes and shelving units filled to the brim
with everything that could possibly get in our way.
We have uncovered silence where we feel there are no words left to say.
SO I wrote this list of the frivolous junk that has accumulated in our home
since the day we stopped speaking so much...
The list goes as such:
Seventeen souvenir shot glasses from the airports we've passed through.
Twenty-four assorted post cards glued to picture frames…
only ten of which are out on display.
Four stained glass panes you still haven't placed in our bay front window.
Eight decorative pillows that match our two couches and love seat,
but clash with the drapes I was supposed to take down
in exchange for matching curtain rods.
Three pictures of tropical birds that you swore were a great garage sale bargain.
Two plastic pails full of paint brushes for my new hobby…
an easel, and seven unpainted canvases.
One sterling silver flask with your initials engraved on the side.
I got it for your birthday the year your grandpa died,
six bottles of imported liquor and ten of cheap wine.
A vine shaped rack to place them on.
A new set of unopened glass ware.
A cracked vase, three mardi gras masks.
A trunk full of college memorabilia you're wiling to sort through,
but the lock is broken.
That stupid coo-coo clock you got from your mom.
A kaleidoscope, several journals, two boxes of vanilla scented soap.
Two boxes of ivory tea light candles,
six bags of fragrant potpourri… I initially intended to only buy three,
but yet another sale… two for the price of one.
a sowing machine with a bench to place it upon,
a garbage bag of old stuffed animals from when I was young,
your toy b.b. gun, a pair of roller blades,
approximately ninety-seven books,
and two encyclopedia set series,
four atlases, a globe,
and sixteen maps of countries you want to visit.
It seems you have an affinity for exotic vacation destinations.
A dinette set, a couple of end tables,
matching floor lamps, one old television set.
Eight black shelving units for cds,
sixty-two bargain priced dvds from the clearance bins at
Wal-mart, Target, and H.E.B.
A pair of binoculars,
five terra-cotta pots, and a bag of planting soil.
An old guitar you swore you were going to get refurbished six months ago.
Three milk crates of vinyl records
an old cassette deck a bag full of tapes,
and twenty-one VHS tapes even though we don't own a VCR.
You said your brother would lend you his…
whenever we decide to have a movie night.
Which brings me to your prized possession
a professional popcorn maker you bought from an antique shop.
Movie posters galore!!
Seven photo-albums that once belonged to my Aunt June.
Not to mention five extra boxes marked miscellaneous in our living room.
I promise to start removing this collage of crap tomorrow.
But I can't even part my lips tell you
that the boxes are too heavily laden with a surplus of sorrow.
I won't lift it all on my own.
My name isn't U-haul.
This emotional precious cargo can NOT be neatly filed out of our way,
cause it is filled to the brim with words we may never get a chance to say.
We just clutter our space as our hope runs thin.
We have no storage room left in our home to let each other back in.
Maybe next week I will write a few limericks about all the items we horde in our den.
09-08-08

Chailyn Kavi.

2008-08-20T23:19:00.000-07:00

So if you used to come to free verse there is this poet named Dawn. She has been MIA as of late because she is studying to become a firefighter we recently had a convo where she told me she is feeling like she lost her self. So I wrote her a poem to encourage her (even though I haven't told her yet)

Chailyn Kavi

How do you fight the flames-- With water poet.Recapture the meaning of your name. Your water is life poet. So flow like the blood in your own veins. Poet don't you know your dreams and memories are one in the same? Poet to continue is to go from whence you came. Feel no shame at the beckoning of bonfire. You are a bondservant. Your desire is to unchain torrential rains and rescue by subduing heat. Don't you know that's where passion meets the road, meets the wind. And if the angels call you home again your flight will never be pen less or wingless. Digress on stage or off page. Is not the current for irrigation raged within the canals, or even in the bowels and vowels of a limitless body. Your words will make you godly. Never mind whether we do, or do not ascend. Barefoot and brazen we will go dancing to the sound of sonnets pounded out by the rhythm in our chests. Press our toes in the dewy earth and howl at the flaxen stars to curse our pain away. We will stay planted there until crystal stairs shatter from the pitch of our voices. Our brows will be moist with the perspiration from the warmth we've endured. But we will keep fighting these fires together poet. Scorched by sunsets yet you will rise like the Dawn you are. Carve shimmering melodies in the clouds and drown out the shadows. Be as bizarre as your art begs you to be. Be brave as the secrets that substantiate your shame. But always remember your name. For you are Life Poet. The repeated respiration of ballads and prose. Breathing stanzas into your nose only to exhale rose buds and thorns. Inhaling the scorn of trespasses against you only to produce vitality fused in prose. When all around you have choked on the flames of hell you will extinguish pyre with the fluid in your soul. Because you are a life giver plant the seeds of wisdom. Roll syllabic stress into fine pressed linens to dress your slender form. Our hearts are weathered and worn but we will draw ourselves to the flame and flap our wings with moths blowing away the smoke as a ladle removes dross. You have counted the cost of sacrifice and still you fear not. You know the temperature is Fahrenheit hot and still you will not back down. So I will again resonate the sound of name. Chailyn Kavi breathe in, breathe out poetry.

2nd Verse

2008-08-16T22:12:00.000-07:00

2nd Verse 2nd Verse San Antoniosssssss official new open mic

Well many of you don't know but Glo, Kinton, and myself started a new poetry spot tonight at a franchise wine bar called Winestyles. It was just a soft opening But from now on… We will be holding it down the 2nd Saturday of every month (once a month is all you need)

September 13th is the Night to come and join us.

The venue is a beautiful little spot and features a vast variety of wines. Next month Scef is coming down to d.j. for us it will be splendid. That is the official kick off. I hope to see all of you in the place next time around.

So who read tonight??

Glo
Vocab
DaRell
Devin Joshua
Edwin Deleon
Terri
Kirsten
Gylon

Musical features Midnight Radio (and a good saxophonist friend of mine Rene Ford dropped in and did some impromptu jamming with us.)

THAT'S RIGHT LADIES AND GENTS MY BAND Midnight Radio IS BACK TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! * hopefully for good this time.
Tonight we made or debut back on the scene.

We had free wine tasting and a yummy party tray of various treats. ALL FOR FREE.

You can't beat poetry music and free sustenance.

Next month $5 dollar cover unless you are an out of town poet and signing up to read.

www.winestyles.net/inwood

God bless you!!

Because Cousin Sarah asked me to

2008-07-12T09:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Cousin Sarah... You asked me to blog and gave me the warmest hug at Neo Soul a week ago so this blog is for you. NOT ABOUT YOU, BUT FOR YOU... Keeping with the metaphor of my last poem I decided to extend it to another topic. Maybe I will have a whole Sugar Series on different subjects.
The content underscored is a poem I am making up on the spot cause I don't write enough poetry. For all the sisters that have lost home girls due to whatever here goes.....................

Sisterhood is the sweetest salutation my soul has known,
but what happens in the silent moments behind the scripted words when the scribbles of sin seep deep into the crevasses of hearts,
and swarthy secrets start to fester between friends?
What happens when the darkness of shame threatens to stain the beauty of bonded kinship that is exchanged as maturation ripens our skin.
How do we erase the demarcated lines designed to hinder us from extricating our pain with the companions that we once found comfort in?
It seems the bend in our demeanor and pent up pride has cast our cohesion aside and created discord between allies.
Time is a mechanism designed to bring change
but I never thought it would strengthen the strain that has craned the neck of our progress. Two hearts in duress can not press past the stress of quarrels
or the quiet that has kept us pantomiming truths under spoken lies.
So I cry for the sisterhood I once had.
Our words weep the trespasses of boundaries we were always meant to cross with permissive care. But as I stare into the face of negligence I feel I can no longer vent my frustrations here. We have exhausted our harmony worlds apart from each other
though we are only one call away.
So I stay to myself and refute the necessity of help that comes from the bosom of my budding denial. Through sisterly courage and feminine bonding
we once sustained our survival, but now the trails of life and former indiscretions have threatened our communion.
So I choose to sip on sketchy details failing to divulge the hell.
I skim over highlights and trite dissertations forsaking the depth of conversation we should have. For I fear your judgments.
I fear your advice. I fear your concerned filled commentary on my life.
And at times I fear that I am wrong and you are right.
So pain just writes itself leagues and leagues
beneath the surface of my epidermis and lifts the a thin layer of mistrust to settle upon us,
until it crusts us over.
Words become colder and salutations no longer hold the warmth and impact they once had.
We misinterpret each others responses from the lack of things said.
We forget to greet to each other with the sisterly sweetness that once dressed our decadent hellos and sugary goodbyes.
We start our dialogue with salty salutations and end with sour whispers that die.
So in silence I weep for my sisters,
because there is no one left to hear my cry.
07-12-08

aww sorry it had a sad ending... that is how the cookie crumbles

Sugar Cubes

2008-04-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

*So I felt the need to explain the reason for me writing this poem before you read it... I feel lately I been seeing people fall into alot of deception religiously with all the unmasking of cults and occults.

Aware of it or not lots of new age thinking and books have come out through various people such as Oprah and/or all the Scientologist out there... all of it very deeply rooted in mystic mind sets. I am not here to debate on whether they are true or not... but by the time u finish reading my poem you will know where I stand. SO I thought to write this poem. Be Careful ladies and gentlemen on your quest for truth... don't to get caught in the pitfalls of deception. LOve u lOTS!!

Sugar Cubes

Illusions taste like sugar when you stir them into a steaming hot cup of lies. So I was that sucrose sucker. Licking crystals particles from the crevasses of my lips and savoring this diabetes fix for the untrue... Wanting to familiarize myself with the taboo in you. Extract the hidden elements from forbidden... see all the attributes that make up your recipe.
Discover your potency.
You were too omnipotent for me.!! So I wanted to break you down chemically
like mitosis
compound from compound through cellular decomposition,
until only a singular atom remained.
Then I wanted to thread you throughout my DNA
needle point sown into my strains
just to reflect your deity mimic
bleeding stigmata scars and all.
Just because I was dejected from heavens gate as falling stars.
My power was perforated and torn away at the seams.
I merely dream of the ascension to ascertain the gleam of your shine.
But you stripped the cosmos from mine
like sharpening razor blades on leather hide. Scrapped my skin aside stuck my spirit in formaldehyde sealed tight in glass.
So I weep suspended in float saline screeching against my eyelids like tires on wet asphalt.
I keep telling myself it's not my fault that my temper has become the San Andres Fault Line stretching out over rippling topography of my emotions and face.
Unstable and destructive from the vileness of my shifting quakes.
Failure for me is never facing your wrath.
So I could spend centuries bending the truth trying to counteract your aftermath. Calculate your perfected precision to become the subdivision of your legacy.
This fructose fantasy tastes like honey to me.
I've got syrup dripping off my silver teaspoon like leaky tenant building faucets.
You deposit the composite photos in my memory of the archangel I used to be.
Gabriel's trumpet don't come round here to serenade me.
The war holy is still raging.
Deception drizzles my thoughts like iced glaze frosting.
You scream in every fixture of my psyche,
until the lights go off and I fade to darkness.
ou spill sacraments on my wounds just to gather the departed.
I was once the closest to you; and now I am the furthest from you transforming into a confectionary con-artist with occult voodoo.
Whispering death in a dress and she dances so seductive to my song.
I am the minstrel of decadent lies carousing the people along.
Poking them with a pitch fork cattle prong,
until sugar caramelizes into their seared flesh.
I appeared as a luminous being bathed in innocence.
Then I administer mirages in the form of morsels for mass consumption sweet as sugar cubes. Illusions dissolve in the cup of life 'til they believe my bitter brew.
I boiled a kettle full of lies, but they were really begging for a beverage of truth.

The Haunting

2008-04-21T00:33:00.000-07:00

Contemplation is like a cancer... (first line of poem)

I think I may have super powers ladies and gentlemen allow me to explain.

So this thing I have been able to do most of my life (I blame God) I can have a conversation about someone I haven't talked to, or seen in ages and/or have a deep moment of contemplation about them (deep contemplation mind you like a 4-5 min. focused thought time) and then they will show up within the next week. Out of the blue just show up. As if I summoned them through seance. But they aren't dead. I get to tell them, "I was just thinking about/talking about you." THis has happened to me most my life so with some of them... I literally look for these people to pop back up, but every once in a while it freaks me out when they come back around. LOL WOWSERSS!!

Now I will stop talkin in code and tell you what I mean. THe past month or so I have had a few guys come back to haunt me from my past AND whopping total of 5 men try to gain entry or REgain entry into my life from relationships I have closed the door on. FIVE DAMN MEN!!
IN ONE MONTH!!

Now normally this would seem impressive, but right now I am trying to figure out: God what are you trying to tell me teach me from this experience?? I am frustrated, lonely, out of sorts, saddened. WHY?? Because I would love to be in a relationship. Unfortunately, all these specimens are completely unacceptable. Four out of Five of them want me to be the other woman... the other I don't know what he wants just yet cause I won't let him in far enough to find out. Him I sware I summoned him through conversation cause I for real was just talking about and thinking about him the day before he popped up with a text msg. I didn't even know he had my number.

Why am I being haunted by these brothers?? Heck if I know. But it is highly irritating. So I started writing a poem about it which I don't have on me otherwise, I would post it... I can't bring myself to finish the poem. But it makes a strong statement in just a few sentences about how I am feeling inside at the moment. Not Good. Why all the capital letters because I am YELLING!! but not at you the reader. ha ha.

I am taking advice about this but umm I can elaborate to anyone who wants a background story on this "manifestation of living apiritions." BOO!!

Thanks for reading

Capture the Moment

2008-04-15T03:23:00.000-07:00

Blog a mania what words could I say to fill the page? Hmmm Well :

I was reading an online article that said teens today are placing an extremely high value on celebrity and notoriety. Websites like myspace, face book, street cred, photobucket, tagged, black planet… have created this sort of craze with having an ode to ourselves, for ourselves honoring ourselves.

True we all want to remember our memories (that sounds silly) that we are constantly creating. Seconds pass and life becomes history right before our eyes. BUT then I stopped to question myself… Are we really that sentimental?
I think people are damn near forgetting how to spend time with each other. LIVE IN THE MOMENT

For instance: I am with you spending time with you, but I am texting someone else, or answering my cell phone calls from other people…too busy trying to take pictures of the moment we are in, instead of just looking around and enjoying the sites and sounds. We are so devastated when we don’t have our electronic gadgets or miss a picture perfect opportunity to say cheese. How can we capture the moment if we aren’t in it?

Just like all the reality t.v. shows some of them I like you know but how far and what all will we do for our 15 mins??

The extremes are getting way more extreme. It is like in front of the camera or on the computer we become this whole different person inside of this made up world full of html codes and glamorized hype. But if you remove all that stuff are we afraid to admit that this crap isn’t really that interesting. SO we move along to the next best thing. Because these graphics have lost their fizzle and pizzazz. But life isn’t graphics and design… it is breath and seconds that will never return no matter how many pictures we take.

Okay how depressing it that?? And you know what I am guilty as sin and innocent as charged. Don’t be so busy creating an image that you lose yourself.

Slam bam thank you ma'am!

2008-04-09T00:47:00.000-07:00

Kudos to everyone who slammed this year first off.

All yr long I debated about whether or not I wanted to slam and finally at the last second I decided I could't live w/o one more yr of devoting my entire summer to it.

I have 3 reasons for slammin...

1. What else will I do with my summer

2. 2 poets who I have to spend a week with in Madison

3. My reason for not slammin with San Antonio last year was elimanated... so no bad vibes to screw up our team dynamic.

Apirl 8, 2008 San Antonio slam finals and the results are in...

David Hendler Slam Champ 1st (woo woo)

Monique and Amanda Flores tie for 2nd

Vocab Andrea Sanderson slid into 3rd by the skin of my teeth

It was really rough I must admit cause I did a brand brand new poem third round talkin I just wrote it a week in ago... very controversial and complete departure from anything I would normally write, but it was an issue I have been very passionate about. It entitled It Takes Two

I had to go first in the last round and that wasn't easy... But I figured if I made it all the way to the last round I stood a good chance of making the team and they always take all the third round poets to nats for SAN ANTO... I can honestly say Shaggy takes really good care of us.

Difficult alot of political stuff was read and things I thought would score higher first round didn't make the cut.

I have a love hate relationship w/ slam. I love seeing people bring their best to the stage and perform in high energy situations, but having ur work scored scale of 1-10 and have some judges rip ur heart out... is the rough part YIKES!!!

It's gonna be amazing and maybe after this I will take a freakin break and find something else to do with my stinking summer... OR NOT. Depends on what cool place nationals is in next year.

I hate the fact that I can't support my local slam more but between scheduling off for gigs and family issues I burn alot of my off time. So I gotta perserve it for mandatory things. So far for this fiscal year I have been so good... I haven't called in since August of last year and I am tryin to make a year with no call ins at my job.

I could ramble on and on... but nobody is reading this anyways

Peace God bless Poets