ThoughtLess

It's as if I've lost complete control. Not of my wares but of my sensibility. Keep rewinding all these parts of myself trying to find the root of it all and mostly I come up with nothing. Thought if my head was clouded enough I could find a tiny shimmer in all the darkness. Yet this darkness consumes me often times than not. I will keep letting myself strive though...at least I've figured out the wrong of it. Now it's only finding the good that I have to tackle.

In Spite Of...

I am happy to report that I am enjoying myself in spite of.
Pretty sure you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about –in spite of.
Really have little complaints and I should’ve been this way for a long while.
Perhaps it is the company of love and genuine friendship…or laughing my ass off until it hurts.  Either way I know that this feeling has been sitting in the pit of my stomach begging to be released.  Having always found comfort in my sorrows I never thought I would experience the true elation of possessing the things I honestly need. 
I won’t lie –I was always a bit confused when it came to my wants and needs.  Guess you can blame that mostly on my desire to always want more –thinking; what I need –would show up when it was ready.  Yet I’ve realized just in the last few hours that the things I want have since changed.  And yes they will always change –but today and tomorrow I know I have the wanting part down.  Now onto the things I need.
Needing is like the curse we are never willing to accept.  The subconscious is a motherfucker.  Never fancied myself a drinker until I stopped and never saw myself as a liar until it was permanently tatted on my face.  But this is where I am today.  Needing to face my bad side and aspire to find the good in myself to share it with the ones I love.  It blows my mind to know that I could be a liar, a cheater, an unreliable friend and a menace to my own self –yet there are a circle of people who stay surrounding themselves with my presence. 
That right there is Love. Finding the beautiful pieces of anything means you have the patience to understand it.  I can honestly say right now that I am grateful I have women in my life who continue to dissect me –criticize my flaws and encourage my talents.  They have been my backbone all along –though I always felt I was missing something.
As if a man in my life –father or male figure alike –would have undoubtedly changed me.  As if my mother and her strong hands didn’t mold me just as slowly and meticulous as a God would.  I cannot lie on this part.  I am the complete, proud female I am in this moment thanks to every woman in my world and even more so, for lack of every male thereafter.
These ladies have shown me that the phrase “in spite of” was more prominent and authentic than my very own hand in front of my face.  That “conquering” is a form of passion only the most attentive lover could possess –and they continue to dominate and rule the very ground I cry on.
How they continue to work long hours, always laughing with me till I cannot breathe, motivating me to follow my dreams, rolling over and cuddling me in the night of a mare, annoying me to the core of a new resolution.  All of these things –these tasks; these roles my women have in my life.  They have managed to maintain them in spite of heartbreak, loneliness, fatigue, outsiders’ notions, and the world crashing around them.  They have harbored my soul and hosted a whirlwind of memories, I myself hope to never forget.  Yet if I do, I know somehow I will be muttering in my old age of the years in which I was in perfect clarity –in spite of.

:On Doom

Am I doomed to walk this circling path forever?

                Stretching my arms’ length to grasp it.

I cannot contain it.  Let it bleed out of me. 

Make rationale my constant

And this thing you call change; make it deplete.

I am famished with grief; heartstricken and all

The other lonely words.

    I feel that pressurized air kicking back static.

                My lungs condensing sentences

Making splinters all down the side of this sheet.

    Should I rip away from it?

    And instead pursue romantic’s folly

     Lasting 158 million seconds

    Crashing...

: On Growing

  I suppose now it's just as good a time as any to update the world on my new comings...and goings.  It hurts to know that it keeps going --never stopping.  Incessantly begging me to stare it directly in the face.  Well this is the year.  This is the time I was told I was guaranteed a new start.  I wonder; too, if I was preparing myself all along.  Waiting ever so patiently for the next step.

  I'm going to take it.  This night if of all nights.  Guessing this is where I say I am going to divulge something real and tell you all the lies I've been keeping.  Well I'm not.  I will change in slow sultry amounts --making you keep the little tiny pieces of my old self remaining in your mouth.  You will be able to miss all the things you hated.  And when you see this new me.  You will regret the beginning thoughts that I needed to be anything different.

Poetry [Plug: Love-Written]

Why do you keep deceiving me?

                You asked me to write to you

                Yet you keep misleading me.

   I’m just going to get down to the simplistics

                Of every little line.

                                How dare divulge your secrets

                                You’re mute

                                You’re a poem

                                You are mine.

                Guess that’s what they call getting it out

                                                There.

                Putting your best foot before the other.

                                Tired of the way that they stare.

                                Whispering lies to their mothers.

You were supposed to tell her…let her know that this is real.

                You weren’t supposed to mock me.

                                                                Make my heart turn to steel.

                                Now I’m a true bluesmen

                                                A liar if that’s even fair.

                                                Why she cringes at my hand

                                                                As it reaches for a strand

                                                of her hair?

                It’s as if you have set this up.  Plotted all along.

                                                                Waiting for me to trip down.

                                                                                Skip the record to this song.

                                Now you’ve trapped me  --just like you wanted.

                                                Where truth is lies and emotions; blunted.

                                Where my haven of truth would have those Hers smitten

                                                Words turned to hate from

once                             love-written.

Poetry [Plug: Penchant]

Her all just vanishes forever down some crack.

     Through some tunneled excuse –through her wish

                                                …right below Her lack.

Them be telling her new things; always not the same.

    Felt those abuses             struggled through no pain.

                                Don’t know from ain’t

never going to neither

                            She’s obsessed now ‘cuz her mama’s milk

                                          couldn’t feed Her.

  Roun’ the way

  folks shy way

                                           Done died everyday.

   Yet this never weighs down on her.

                                                      She’s cleaned with addiction.

                                                      That eco too friendly in her lungs.

                          Its smile Her description.

                                                                                                       Their religion.

  To see Jester make mock

    To laugh out loud (LOL)

                                                       When does its swung makes a stop?

  Traveling impossible

                                Lines now.

                                                Wasting definable time…wow!

Him never give no hints or signs on post-its.

                                Them keep lying on bout intervention

                                Slurred now…Her toasted.

 So hype, so hungry, so thirsty and penchant.

                Her swung, cloud nine…just trying let

                                                that stench vent.

:On Patience

Swallow Whole The Fruits Of Patience.  Juices Could Cascade Against Anxious Lips.  They May Consume Your Words.  You Shall Never Know, Although Thoughts Of Contentment Have Pressed Their Sweaty Bodies Against Your Nudity.  Your Nakedness Will Never Become Those Beads Of Anticipation.  So Drink Down The Nectar Of Ease With Gentle Mouths.  Juices Will Flow To Tongues And Warm Necks; But You Must Never Mistake This.  You Will Never Be That Patient.
[circa 07.15.06]

A Taste of The Foreign [Plug: Alice In Tin Angel Vol. II]

 Truth be told I was prepping myself for this event all month.  Just like Goapele; I knew having a piece of Alice Smith was definitely something I would have to soak up.  I feel these women will be the music I reflect on in my old age; trying to explain to my grandchildren why people like Nina Simone and Etta James are landmarks.  They'll just look at me. Probably thinking grandma Poe doesn't know which end is up.  But I have no shame in being that old broad --mumbling under my breath song lyrics since forgotten.  It is the most romantic experience I have yet to have.
  So you can imagine just how unbelievably scattered I felt riding down to the city with my fiancee.  Who by the way got to come home to me early from being out of the country for nearly a year.  It was all going too well.  So when we missed the first trolley that would take us to a connecting terminal I breathed a little sigh of relief.  I'm the type of person who cannot stand perfection.  It cripples me honestly.  I fear for the good and always expect the worse.  I mean what is that?  Type A personality?! o_0  Ahh who the fuck really cares?  I like my aggression because it's countered by my over-emotional tightly wound carefree attitude.  Lost yet?
  When we did finally get to the venue; the same tiny spot set right by the waters of Penn's Landing and snuggled between the beautiful restaurant, Cuba Libre and offbeat bar, Blue Martini.  This area here...is definitely what I define as my Philadelphia.  I always feel completely in my element when I'm around the beatniks.
  The lady and I managed to grab the last available table which was sat next to the sound booth and seconds away from the bar.  I donned my signature extra dry martini with a lime and waited for the hum to come to a quiet still.  As I was chatting it up with my girl we saw a frantic woman come around a tight corner leading from downstairs.  Her walk was tilted as if she had to used the restroom in the worse way; her shirt fell off her shoulders and she seemed to be carrying a tiny bag full of what sounded like a thousand sets of keys as she jiggled passed us.  I instantly made a crack at how extraordinary rushed she appeared.  Then my girl lightly comes back with: "I think that was Alice."
  Of course it was; how could I miss that classic girl next door, i-don't-know-how-pretty-i-am Sanaa Lathan type of bubble that exuding from her aura?  It was probably due mostly to how fabulously chilled this vodka was against my gut and the distracting beauty and conversation of my fiancee.  But she's the observant type...the Type B.  That is why she's my first marriage.  Haha. 
  No sooner than her sweeping passed us did we see Alice and her pianist climb onto stage with ease.  They had done this before; the Tin Angel was no foreign scene to them.  Instantly she lunged into a new song that I hadn't heard before and it was a shame because I still didn't catch the name at the end.  But just like the first time I heard "Do I" I had no clue the name...I researched on weeks' end until I came across it in an article she had with a Washington online zine.  I'll find this song too.  I must.
  A mini confession...I have been YouTube stalking Alice Smith for anything and everything I haven't heard.  And like a miracle straight from some unworldly haven; I came across "Moving Lights"

                                                                        
  How could you not fall in love with that?  I mean I was kind of rethinking if my favorite song was even "Do I" anymore.  I think after the mental debate in my head for the last three weeks only went in a circle I knew I had to hear both songs live for me to actually determine anything worth caring for.  So when she sang almost four new songs; I knew that Moving Lights had to be among the next few.  Like I said I hate perfection...but my prayer couldn't have come true at any better moment than when the piano started the sultry melody of that very song. 
  I heard of it only by way of technology; which is kind of horrible but I'm glad I was able to experience this only after having known what it was.  Of course you know all lesbians must watch the Showtime series The LWord; since cancelled and The Real LWord; a new reality series hosted by the same network.  Because it is encoded in our DNA.  Well there was an episode in the original series where my favorite character and possible the sexiest lipstick/aggressive femme, Bette, passed out after seeing a painting.  Known as the Stendhal syndrome.  I mean I could not even begin to understand how a piece of art can move you so much you cannot comprehend it.  I suppose that all links back to the subconscious and all the things we tie to visuals.  To see them all within one thing at the same time...it must be the most overwhelming experience.
  And that is exactly what I felt when Alice Smith sang that song.  The tears felt so foreign to me and yet also apart of who I was exactly.  It confused and comforted me all the same. I'm not sure what it was but there is something so deeply passionate in wanting to go and not being able to.  I've felt that way for so long and kind of have allowed myself to stand in my own way.  Suppose hearing that song just made me realize I do not have to let myself be who I am.  I can change. 

  "Looking into the window.  Seeing all the faces.  Traces of the way I used to be.  This is not the way I saw things in my imagination.  What you get is not what you see.  I've got this plan to leave here.  And I'd be going soon.  But those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay here. Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay.  I can't see beyond the window; I'm losing concentration.  Patience seems so hard to find.  Maybe I should take a new road...look for many spaces.  Somewhere I can take my time.  I thought I'd get to leave here.  And I'd be going soon.  But those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay here.  Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay. Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay here. Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay. "

Poetry [Plug: Standing Still Moving Over and Under the Wind]

My window is down.
Air so cold it spits at you.
I am.
Not here.
Just standing still and sitting there.
I will tell you the truth.
Sorrow has a name.
Her is somebody.
It's snowing rain.
And I am under the wind standing still moving up and down and up.

[circa dec.9 '07 3:18am]

:On Women

  The extent of my anticipation for this event came at the very hands of the internet.  I’m not sure where I fell into the cracks; but it seems I am now emerged with the onset of being “connected”.  FaceBook is my new friend –it tells me what I want to know and always pushes me in the direction of what I need to hear.  So naturally it reminded me that Goapele would be playing not less than two hours away from my hometown in a week.  I swiped the tickets without even thinking; knowing I would be able to get someone to tag along to this rare event. 

   Ironically, that was not the case at all.  My girl has been out of the country for almost a year so I’ve been playing house with my best friend; usually devoting most of my entertainment to living vicariously through her single life.  Unfortunately, she works weekends so she was out.  My other close friend was visiting with her military girlfriend and I didn’t want to take away from their time.  Slowly but surely it seemed that I was going to be forced into a rock and a hard place.

  I thus began the dreaded yet exhilarating excursion of recalling every woman I could stand long enough to trek on journey with me.  It felt a little great knowing I could still find a place where I wasn’t the worse candidate to these women.  Because not so ironically I am the telltale story of a lesbian; I love women but somewhere along the line they start hating me.  I’m a leo.  I cannot help but be a little skewed.  The bottom line is I want what I want when I want it; and I’m right and you’re wrong.  Even if it is to the slightest degree –I will find a way to prove my point…no matter how ill-informed it may be. [End Tangent]

   So I called all the exes.  Out.  Either they were what I liked to call: playing hard to get.  And I don’t mean in a sexual way.  It seems that we can be virtual friends; sort of like my relationship with FaceBook.  But women have feelings it turns out.  They think just because I invite them to a concert that they don’t even like that I need to pay and take them to dinner and fucking show my feathers like I’m some sort of Casanova trying to land a hobble telescope on the moon.  Too much?  Well nonetheless I did have to show some feathers.  I did have to beg and try to meet these girls half way.  But then I realized how exhausting it is to be single.  To be living vicariously I think is as best as I can do. 

  To make a long story short I ended up deciding that going alone was the better of the choices.  Funny thing happened though; at the last minute one of my New York friends came through and told me how she was stoked about the event.  Weirdest thing how I always stress and grovel over the tiniest things and they never end up being as bad as I think.  I guess being a pessimist has its perks…sometimes. 

  Nonetheless; the concert was worth every hassle.  It was worth going through the Holland tunnel twice for absolutely no reason.  It was worth paying a ton in tolls and calling every girl in my phonebook to drudge up shitty memories.  You know why; because when Goapele sings she shines.  It's funny the shit we do for women.  I mean why did I even need to have a jawn next to me?  I suppose it's because the event was so intimate and romantic that ultimately I was ashamed I didn't get to spend it with my girl.  Being able to enjoy the sounds of Goapele in a cool hum really just made my night.  I even got this banging ass photo.  It was the highlight of my summer so far and it hasn’t even began.