January 30, 2009


truth be told.

January 30, 2009

“and by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. the worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt”

– sylvia plath


January 28, 2009


photo by George Holz


January 28, 2009

“you should find the strength to walk away,

instead of giving him the power to push you away”

don’t look.

January 28, 2009

She’s gorgeous right? Hair long and slick like a spill of black ink. Pull, and it coils your fingers like a serpent. Pull, and her eyes will fold like the smoothest of sheets. But don’t be fooled by her allure. The mystery that seduces your senses is only a mystery to you. Her charm is gripped by many and will burn you nine times worse than the sun. Ignore the lashes that curl up like vines. It’s mascara. Disregard the coral pout, glazed with sex. It’s lipgloss. And when she finds the perfect time to kiss you, remember that it is just that. A kiss that’s swept the lips of many, tied the tongues of more, and will inevitably leave you empty-handed. She’ll snatch the last whispers of your virginity, crush them beneath her heel, and wink. The girl’s one hell of a bandit. But if your eager to pit your strength against her seduction, follow the smoke on an Arabian night. She’ll be waiting in the darkest corner – brows potently arched, legs sweetly crossed, leopard dress fitted like a tattoo – sipping her second lick of Merlot. Offer her a third and she’s yours, but offer her a fourth and she’s theirs. Graze your palm on the dip of her back. She loves that and will arch like cupid’s bow. Now listen carefully and act swiftly. Her scent will float your way like a genie out it’s bottle. Find the lid and close it. Mold her irresistible to your enticement, and softly fan away the suitors. If she’s distracted for mere seconds, she’ll allow the crowd to swallow her whole.

to be continued.

may i have a bit of our butterscotch bliss?

a kiss worth all the days that we missed?


remember my touch tip-toeing across your skin?

remember your lips tip-toeing across my twins?


you laugh because it’s comedy mixed with the truth

but what’s funny is you fronting like your mr. aloof


so love when you’ve finally taken off your cool

better hope i’m still around after being your fool.

January 20, 2009

January 20, 2009

Long were the years I prayed for our faith to be personified.

But never did I imagine for a gift to be presented like this.

Long were the years I prayed for our souls to be regenerated.

But never did I imagine resplendency to shine this bright.

Long were the years I prayed for the manifestation of our freedom.

But never did I imagine our voices to rise this high.

God bless Obama.


January 20, 2009

A seed soiled in hope, has finally bloomed in America.

he wanted her.

January 13, 2009

With every turn of the faucet, she floated down his stream. He wanted her. And she enjoyed the flutter of lust that arrived each time his smile courted her. The woman was happy. But he was buttered in trouble and could easily flee from her sight. Although the woman was aware of that, she trusted her grip, even while slowly, emotion became their enemy. The man was too reluctant to adjust and the woman, just too naive to care. She could’ve settled for a simple soul of simple needs. Found entertainment in common thought. But she thought, why rummage through ordinary, when he wanted her.

And somehow that became enough to sustain her patience. Enough to seduce the slightest morsel of imagination. She allowed her sight to squint against reason, all because he wanted her. The night of the first, they met for dinner, conversation fuller than their plates. The man slid his fingers down her own. Slightly with hesitation, then heavier with purpose. Swallowing a sigh, the woman crossed her legs, afraid of what would slip. He fucked her mind, walked her home, and they bid the first night farewell. Months passed. Then came the warning, allowing the man to clear himself from the dirt yet to stain his palms. But what did a warning mean to the woman of strength? Nothing. Especially when he wanted her. However, she waited. They waited. Settling upon the sweetest November, when for thirty days, drips of hope rained on their bed. But when showers grew heavier, all the man could see were puddles. And although he wanted her, he didn’t. “Why bet on chance when you can bet on definite?”, he thought. The woman questioned the man’s maturity, she questioned his manhood, but in the end all she had were her questions. He wanted her, but he left.

tomorrow and on..
love my insecurities till they live up to perfection. be patient.
count my beauty marks. get closer to Jehovah. let love be. naturally
love. pray. pray more. be a kid. be a woman. be your woman. be my own
woman. flirt cautiously. open up to truth, as it does to me. dance.
sing louder in the shower. buy red lingerie. address all I-O-U’s to
her. ice skate in central park. be gentle with the anti-breaks. be
silent. be simple, but deceptively complicated. forgive you. forgive
myself. forgive the before. be gentle. strengthen the delicate soul.
be vulnerable. be me. be fearless again. write without inhibitions.
just write. fade the grey. read. read more. embrace the sun and the
snow. kiss the mirror. buy a yellow dress. be me. be her.

[flaws and all]