Vicious Inquiry

How I feel? Like nothing is real. Tangible beliefs are disguised as deceit. Love is a manipulative bitch. Time is my enemy and Virginia is my nemesis. I stay on the run; fleeing from regret, or maybe just myself. I'm unequivocally, incorrigibly impossible to please. Will I ever just be? Get another degree, publish my books and find something true.

Work is an incessant nag, or a thorn in my side. Thanks for the check; time to pay this high ass rent.

I'm all alone, with no place to call "home". A lost wanderer on a dark,  ambivalent callous journey to ? Perhaps nowhere. I stare at my massive, vacuous room and regretfully wonder how I ended here. Hard, wearied footsteps expeditiously beating on the ground. Run. Run. Run. Go. Go. Go. Quicker up these enigmatic paths that quiver my being and stump my intelligence down . I am a ghost. I swear I've been here before. I erratically fled down this street of sweet catastrophe and beautiful hopeless wonder. A deceptive encore?

How I am feeling, you inquire? Like I'm losing my last bit of hope and my ambition is getting tired. My dreams are mean. Love is a scheme.  And I'm drowning in alcohol and sweet wine to placate the burning sting of love's loss 

And a once sweet lover's now deceitful dismissive toss

Seven years of my unadulterated, self-less love now despairingly lost...

In empty liquor bottles and multitudes of sleep-less tear-filled nights.

What am I to do when no one understands my broken-hearted plight?

I relentlessly cared but he no longer feared to  boldly dare and let go.

 Of our dreadfully prolonged union & strife-filled years of our fragile hearts' confusion. How could you go?

Don't you know that our precarious, ambiguous love is all I know? 

How am I supposed to move on just because you thoughtlessly moved on don't you know my love is a thousand years strong. How dare you go!

How I feel? Like I'm a joke and my heart is life's deceptive punch line.

Maybe God created me just to kill some precious time.

How the fuck I feel? Like my life is a gaping, fading, degrading hole that an escape route is impossible to find.

How the fuck I feel? Like Virginia cannot be fucking real. This onerous, heavy pain I couldn't have gained. This furious, indistinguishable  anger can't be mine. 

I'm exhausted of having a vision but walking aimlessly blind.

My endless, callous  strife can't be my mandated life.

God, help me! Being alive should not be such an unceremonious crime.

How the fuck I feel you inquire? Like I'm dying a slow, silent death and maybe my weakened soul is already dead. Waking up day after day I constantly dread.

But I'm afraid of death...

How I feel? Like nothing is real. Life is a bitch and Virginia is my nemesis. 

Promise Unforeseen

My heart is at war with my soul.

I’m yearning & dying on the inside every time I realize that I have lost the battle once more.

How can this be? We promised eternity, yet love manipulated we & now it is just me.

Helplessly lying on a cold floor, sobbing an endless river of a defeated goal to just be with the one 

who conceptually completes me & I he,

But what is left when he has left?

A void, vacuous hope for us to be complete as we, but the unrelenting grief on my chest

Refuses to allow my mind to be at rest

And freed from these falling memories

That promised us as we.

Grandma's House: A Family Demise (I took a trip home and saw things in a whole new light.)

Grandma’s house:  A family’s demise

The walls have caved in . There’s no hope or love within.

Only past hate, envy, and deception bear in

These walls

And ugly, dark , vacuous halls

that lead to nowhere

There’s  no

Pain relieved or  wondrous  reprieve.

 Only dreams  denied  and inevitably deceived

Can you see?

Invisible fingerprints of our loved ones who believed

That we would prevail at prosperity but the wandering demons

Reveal that we have failed .

Here, the air is filled with an acrid stench of lies, guilt, and family deceit

And astray, “holy”  souls who fell victim to defeat.

Disappointment levitates in the falling roof that bleeds

a  dying hope that encompasses your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe.

In every, almost inconspicuous  corner is proudly decorated with mold

The wooden  closed doors withhold an enraged silent truth dying to be told

If you sit still and listen Grandma’s remote prayer quietly echoes

“Hold on to my, chil’n, Lord,  don’t let’em  go.”

A trembling, cruel, cold

Is held captive in the once beauty-filled home, that now hurt resides and complacently unfolds.

A Potent, flailing, unattainable hope makes you choke

You better Hold your breath, this frigid place is contaminated

With unforeseen calamity and Stolen promises unabated.

We, the children, of a faithful, praying Mother’s dream

To cultivate a  virtuous family that dwell in  love and peace

Have deceptively contemplated to let adversity  be free.

In us.

Now, in her home,  these ominous, hate-filled  dying floors roar

Of ill-will, strife and blood-related war

And these, vengefully hungry insects soar

While the termites bite

Away away away at this dwelling until it disappears.

And the vintage, cracked, shattered, windows smear

The lonely ghosts mockingly sneer

You better not cry;  It is in here that sorrow and broken hearts are revered.

If you look closely,  the cracking tiles reveal Grandma’s disappointed tears

In us.

Through the small cracks  in  the weak ceiling the pain is wrathfully gained.

The  worn  furniture is painted with deceptive, permanent stains

If you walk the rooms the gruesome truth remains

Stolen pictures of faded memories of the horrid past, that will never be redeemed

Here, in this sorrow-filled  house, Love lived then impetuously committed suicide

On the very day that Grandma died.

But listen close, you hear her voice

‘'Love each other, chil’in things’ll get better by & by.”

Code Blue

(Everybody has a story. Some of them you just can't fathom. Or can you?)

A cold concrete floor inconspicuously laced with enraged demons of the past.
Unnameable insects that suck out the subtle spirit of hope out of your veins; invisible footprints of dying souls.
Souls lost to unconquerable drug use, vulgar alcoholism, insurmountable self-hate, a lost vision, or perhaps, a faith impeded by a man’s firm, determined fist.

This is it: The place where the hopeless complacently dwell and the faithless happily die.
This is their vision  manifesting; their easily attainable endeavor to be complacently trapped by these  cursed, fiercely judgmental walls listening to the ominous voices of a deterred mind conversing with itself. You hear it? Diligently talking back, holding a conversation of illusive and unabated delusion? 

These thin, uncaring walls harbor endless demons, unforgettable  skeletons, dreams sabotaged before your very eyes. Foes Un-forgiven. Murdered perhaps.

Women Lost determined to never be found.
Women with beautiful, strong minds  that are indefinitely and permanently misplaced.
They’re lost in the clouds or perhaps they  were simply  left at the place  of the mystery..
That one detrimental catastrophe that coerced them to kindly neglect the one thing they need to succeed: Their mind.

The air is thick with a tangible failure. Burdens. Self-Manipulation. Unfeasible beliefs. Stagnancy. And white drugs deceptively flowing up beautiful noses to the numb the sting of impregnable self-inflicted defeat of life itself.

Yes, I am here, breathing the same poisonous  air as these broken women with broken hope. These unbelievable  women who quickly forfeited life and dismissed chance. 

I close my eyes and see vividly that yes, I, myself am misplaced while lying here on an infested mat on a cold concrete floor, laced with hopeless dreams and invisible footprints of complacently dying souls.

This is Code Blue. Welcome.

Stagnant Perplexity

I feel pain. Not just physical, but a sickening emotional & mental ache


That coerces me to double over in self-doubt and dismay.

I am perplexed.

Dreadfully succumbed to a world of constant uncertainty & concrete regret.

My mind is over-loaded with unnecessary thoughts & limitations that force these stress-inflicted tears to angrily swim down my face.

I am misplaced.

Not where I want to be.

My dreams they lay, right beside me pleasantly & beautifully

placidly waiting for my touch..

But I cannot reach them.

They are intangible & seem more like vivid fantasies than a feasible reality.

How can this be?
 Two years in May I accomplished that one massive, life-changing goal that I relentlessly worked for, cried for, lost sleep for….

But yet, I have attained almost Nothing since that remarkable endeavor.

They say be Patient..

but does patience equate success?

Does restless waiting guarantee my bills being paid?

I ask, Lord what should I do?

I am Exasperated & Defeated.

Exhausted with selling myself endless dreams & diligently selling myself short.

BrOKeN

I am just a woman.


A lost, desperate soul

avidly searching

seeking. Hoping for something unfeasible

called Peace.

Prayers and cries

Tears lies

Strife. Where is the unattainable Placidity

I Pray and cry, stress and fast for.

I am just a child

I am lost in a chaotic vacuous place

called Life.

The pain in my chest

Profound and poignant

Erupting like a livid volcano

I know nothing

Nothing at all

My future is enigmatic.

The past hectic

The present is Hell

Confusion suffuses my

educated mind

Educated? I am smart

College never schooled me on

Life.
Black. Broke. Broken.


feeling defeated

A mother-less child.

A father-less girl.

They both are alive

but where are they amidst

My calamity

I am alone.

Basking in a horrid solitude

Help?

Someone reprieve this state of pain.

I am just Virginia

Lost. Broke,

Broken.Confused.

Blinded by hopelessness.

Season Gone

Today, I realized I miss you. Yesterday I missed you, but I refused to believe and acknowledge it. I feel lost. Alone. There's a gaping void in heart where our love used to be. Now, your'e gone..like the rain that comes & fails to leave any sign of it's existence. All I have is memories. Stacked in my head & refusing to leave..Love came. Love loved me. Love is gone. Now am all alone, hoping it will return like the seasons...

Bleeding Sea

My heart…Thump. Thump. Thump.

A delayed beat burdened by a solemn ache.

You ever felt an ache? An obstinate, continuous pain that fails to cease

A rebellious throb…My heart contaminated by such sudden dismay.

You remember when you used to love me?

Remember when you left me?

I remember when you flowed back to me like a lucid wave.

You breezed my skin & caressed my heart; soothed my lonely, despaired soul that threatened to transform to a cold river.

You ever walked on ice? Felt it crack like glass under your feet?

Cold & hard yet vulnerable & malleable

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Ice -cold. That’s my heart you stepping on!!!

Why’d you do that? Leave me at the front door of your house

Crying buckets of flowing rivers falling like hopeless rain drops

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You ever seen a heart bleed? It’s a sad thing to see-a young girl so blinded by a used –to-be love that all she does is cry & bleed.

No, she don’t always cry. Most of the time she’s smiling. Wearing a mask of a healed broken heart. But she knows no such thing.

If she’s not crying, she’s bleeding.

Her heart pouring down like a sad sea. By the time the sun rises it freezes over then begins to crack like an ice pack

Click. Clack. Click.

You see her crying? Bleeding like a wounded soldier.

Somebody hold that girl! Stop them invisible tears!! They say.

I almost forgot I always talking about me.

You remember when you loved me then left me cold & bleeding by the sea?

The Black Dream

Who Am I? Classified, Dignified, Portrayed Condemned. Who? I?

I’m not confined to a field of erratic, inane dreams scattered like dead leaves

Destined to Blow away into world of uncertainty & subliminal ambiguity

Who? I? Not Me?

He says I’m BLACK, Impertinent. Destined to Fiasco & Death. Limitation & Incarceration & she says I am inadequately less than she. She blinks & quivers at my proximity. She doesn’t say, but she thinks I’m pre-destined to her welfare system, the ghetto & the government’s section of eight counts of “you’re poor”

They stare me up and down with profound enmity. Wishing & waiting for an epic down fall. A stereotypical failure that will impede, destroy & mislead a courageous yet “precarious” dream

I have to maintain. Not for he & not for She

But for him. The one who protected & believed in the Acceleration & ameliorating of that dream. That one dream that he never Knew. But he still believed.

I’ll rise above a statistic & tenaciously transcend any repulsive wish for a disruptive mislead.

I’ll do it. Not for he & not for she but for her who stood in the crowd and risked her life just to hold her fist & cry “I’m Black & I’m Proud”

She believed, He Dreamed. Why shouldn’t we?

Nina Jazz

She floats in the bar like a silent dream. Her dress flowing freely in the alcohol congested room.

The bar quickly grew loud with quietude as everyone became perplexed by her magnetic elegance

The caramel skin guy-the one with the goatee-stops in mid-position-his pool stick in his right hand, tightly positioned around the width. The man-the one who came in depressed over his flailing finances-set down his fifth glass of Hennessey straight. The heart surgeon at the end of the bar-the one perpetually poisoned by loneliness- lost focus on his solitary confinement, soon as his eyes fell upon the silent dream that softly glided into the room.

The DJ glanced up from his turn tables. Two records in his right hand. His eyes confounded by her stunning presence. The lights were dim, inconspicuous, but her brown skin glowed luminously, vivid & radiant. The music that played above subtly seemed to halt compliantly to her dignified vicinity. The room became profoundly noiseless but her beauty sang a song.

It was poetic . Soothing & soft like Jazz, Calm & Serene with a melancholy tune.

Nina’s melody placated the heart surgeon’s solitude~calmed the depressed & broken man who found temporary solace in Hennessey. As she glided placidly through the smoke infested bar you could hear her graceful song, the blowing of the saxophone & the gentle pressing of the piano keys. Her voice imaginary but lovely, emotes a pain of sorrow & consolation.

Nina’s jazz is Divine. You hear her song? It’s all over the room. Ubiquitous & delightful~ You could hear her it in her African made hips and in her honey coated complexion. It traveled through the wells in her cheek bones, blew through her hazel pupils, emanated from her elegant fragrance. Everyone heard Nina’s Jazz. It’s soft like blues & smooth like Mother’s bedtime melody. Placid. Poetic. Do you hear her song?

Loko No More

Written: December 1, 2010

The FDA has is striving to put an end to the sales and legal distribution of the well-known Four Loko beverage which has become widely prevalent to consumers all over America.



The infamous Four Loko drink has become overly popular since its launch in Ohio in 2006. Since then, the drink has been linked to many alcohol related injuries, deaths, and black outs. The beverage is considered to be a toxic concoction of alcohol and caffeine. The amount of caffeine included is believed to be the equivalent of three shots of espresso, while the amount of alcohol is believed to be about 12% in most states-the equivalent of four beers. The drink is carbonated and consists of sugar, natural and artificial flavoring. The drink also has four other ingredients- hence the term “four loko”: caffeine, taurine, guarana, and wormwood. The drink is available in a variety of flavors including orange, blue raspberry, fruit punch, watermelon, and a few others.


According to the FDA and many police officials, the potent drink evokes the “blackout effect” on many individuals. It is also stressed that while under the influence of the beverage, many people feel compelled to handle volatile tasks such as drinking and driving. The alcoholic/ energy drink is believed to be responsible for many incidents that took place in Washington, Michigan, Utah and Oklahoma. It is said that in these states, citizens were hospitalized after drinking the beverage. Thus, these four states recently banned the legal distribution of the drink. However, since then, many other states, including Maryland and New York, have abolished the sales of the Four loko as well.


The U.S. Food and Drug Administration began to assert that the alcohol and caffeine levels concocted in the drink are hazardous. In November, manufacturers of the Four Loko beverage announced that they will remove caffeine and the other stimulants from the drink. However, the drink is still viewed as toxic and held under considerable suspicion by the F.D.A.

Officer Down

Police department officials assert that a clothing law that governs plain-clothed officers to wear the color of the day or week may be implemented so that other officials can identify them. This law is prominent in other cities and states. However, on duty officers are forced to remain in uniform at all times until the further review of the prospective law is taken place.



“We want to make sure that we’re using plainclothes officers in the safest manner possible” said the Baltimore Police Department’s chief spokesman, Anthony Gugliemi.


The police officers who opened fire on Officer William Torbitt Jr. , 33, mistaking him for a armed civilian, have been identified as Officer Latora Craig, nine - year veteran; Harry Dodge; 11 year -veteran; Harry Pawley; a 17-year veteran; and Toyia Williams; a 13-year veteran.


Police state that Officer Torbit was on duty, and responded to a fight call that was taking place outside of the club. It is said that Officer William was the first to respond to the call. Torbit strived to break up the brawl and was attacked and forced to the ground. Torbit then retrieved his gun and shot one of the civilians. As soon as Torbit wounded the civilian, four uniformed officers opened fire on him. Though these officers work in the same district as Torbitt, they did not recognize him. 41 shots were fired in total by the officers. The gun ramble ended in the death of Torbit, and a 22-year old civilian, Sean Gamble, and four others wounded. Police believe that Gamble was killed by the eight shots that Torbit fired.


Police are striving to decipher if Officer Torbit was in the right for opening fire on Gamble. However, Gulgielmi asserts that surveillance cameras reveal Torbit being attacked by civilians. Police supervisors also said that it is not certain whether Gamble is the initiator of the brawl. However, it is known that Torbit and Gamble did have an altercation.


Nonetheless, the shooting has served as a disastrous and tragic shock to the police department and the city of Baltimore. Mayor Rawlings-Blake has referred to the shooting as “a tragedy that shook us to our deepest core."










The funeral services for Officer Torbit will be held at 10 a.m. Wednesday morning.

I Came Up, I Warmed Up, The Next Up

"If They Don't Know Your Dreams, Then They Can't Shoot'em down"

Anyone who knows me knows that I have an un-yielding love for Real Hip-Hop. Yes, there are certain songs that I will drop it low to in the club, but would never listen 2 outside of the party scene. There are a few artist whose songs I blast when a foul mood, but at the end of the day, I have no respect for these so called "rappers" who lack originality and real talent. I’m sorry; I can't get with the bubble gum theme songs that have become overly prominent in the rap industry within the past few years. I had almost given up, and didn’t believe that another artist would come around and grace the Hip-Hop world with originality, reality, clever lines, and still be able to move me after their first album. Until one day in 2009 I was introduced to "The Warm up”. I had never heard of J. Cole a day in my life, but after listening to a few tracks on Cole's second mix tape, I was sold!!! I fell in love with the fact that he could rap so passionately about harsh reality, dreams, failures, death, etc. and flow incredibly as well...I felt his pain in "Can I live" could relate to being harassed by Sallie Mae in "A Dollar and A Dream Pt II" laughed at his cleverness in "Light Please" and completely fell in love with the outrageous theme in "Dreams" ft Brandon Hines....I listened to "The Come Up" (backwards I know) and realized this dude had become one of my fav artists. Then, one day I hear he had a record deal.

















Last Year Mr. Jermaine Cole was signed to Jay-z’s label "Roc-Nation" which now consists of Wale, Rihanna, and a few other talented artists. The day I heard that my secret had been found by the industry, I was somewhat disappointed simply because Most artist transform to commercial, bubble gum talents once they leave the underground world. Ultimately, I began to wonder if Mr. Cole would be another rap statistic in my book. However, I held on to my hope that Jermaine would keep his unique style and adept talent once "Who Dat" came out in the summer...I heard a few other underground songs that I respected in the meantime BUT on Friday, November 12, 2010 J. Cole's HIGHLY anticipated mix tape "Friday Night Lights" dropped...I had been patiently waiting, and wondering what this third album was going to bring me. I was teased when I heard " Looking For Trouble" featuring Kanye West. I can accurately assert that J. Cole destroyed, and lyrically Murdered his verse. "Never say Im better than Hov , but I'm the closest One" My fav verse from this song...mainly because this statement is 100% true. I was impressed once I was finally able to hear the full version of "Before I'm Gone" on Thursday. The song is a representation of truth and brutal honesty. On this tune J. paints a vivid picture of growing up as a poor child with a notebook and mind abundant with dreams and determination… then his transformation to the middle class, to having money and becoming a rapper who has made it. "I got dreams bigger than your whole team" After listening to this soulful, poignant song it has become my favorite...















Then, I heard one of the more upbeat, party/ Go Go like songs "you got it" ft Wale. I was impressed that this song is hot, yet reminiscent of a genre of music that I abhor. But I love it!! I could honestly, dance to this song in the club, and still jam to it in the car or anywhere else for that matter. "I know you gotta 9-5, I'll be your 5-9" I lovveeee this song!!! After my sneak peak of the mixed tape, I was confident that my boy Cole would deliver a grand third CD.







SO finally on Friday when I attempted to download the CD, I couldn’t because millions of anxious fans (like myself) had broke the website!! So finally once I was able to hear “Friday Night Lights”, I couldn’t stop playing "Too Deep For the Intro" ft Erykah Badu. This is yet another soulful, laid back tune that I adore. On this track Cole raps about the debauchery, crime, violence that he witnessed growing up in his neighborhood. I also admire this track for he goes on to mention going away to college while simultaneously pursuing a career in rap. (The main reason why I respect Mr. Cole) "A ill-ass nigga who just happened to stay in school”. Honestly, this track is an awesome intro to the CD for it is a lyrical depiction of the powerful, realistic, yet hopeful view of reality that is presented on the rest of the CD. Another great, yet up beat song is "It cost me a lot" I cannot stop playing it over and over again, On this track Cole reveals his lyrical skills to the nth degree...another song where he raps about coming up, the big difference being the beat to this song is the shiittt!!! I’m somewhat addicted to this track. Another great listen: "Best friend' ft Aaliyah and Missy Elliott. Originally off of Missy's "supadupafly" album with J's inclusive rap lines, this track is twice as hot and brings an R & B flow to the album thus making it more diverse. Many would assert that the track is “Commercial” but I opt to differ; the track is just proof that Cole’s style is versatile and amazingly adroit. I am striving not to make this song my #1 but it’s diligently competing with "before I’m Gone"















Another classic song on the long awaited album is”Enchanted" I love the beat and the flow is different. “Enchanted” is another smooth, respectable track that conveys the chaotic/ un-promising reality of black men in America. However, lyrically, "2 face" could give all the songs mentioned above a run for the money. Another touching portrayal of Cole's world growing up in "the Ville" (Fayetteville, North Carolina) and the many challenging experiences he faced before making it into the rap game "I feel ashamed cuz the good Lord done brought all this success to me and all I seem to focus on is all the stress on me "















But on “See World" Cole reminds us what the game has been missing for a considerable amount of years now: Pac. On this track, Cole flows to a Tupac beat while rapping about the painful, chaotic, sinful, world that we exist in...that may seem deep but if you listen to the song thoroughly Cole is verbalizing how corrupt and iniquitous the world has become. In the track he reveals a story of a five year old girl who becomes missing, then found murdered…







I honestly could ramble on and on about every track on the album! Until I discovered Cole, I had never listened to a Mix tape or album in general, where I like every single track!! Every song Cole raps on is a representation of the cruel reality that African Americans face. I honestly admire Cole’s style for he is Honest. There’s more to his music than hoes, fast cars, the night life, and he has YET to make a song that has a frivolous dance move behind it! I can speak for myself and millions of others when I say: Hip Hop hasn’t experienced such Authentic talent since Biggie and Pac. His music depicts turmoil, survival, hope, and most importantly His Ambition. One of the main reasons I respect Jermaine his songs reveal how he FOUGHT to make it in the industry.~







All and All I give Friday Night Lights Two Thumbs Up!! I know my friends and followers on twitter are tired of me commenting on how great the CD is but OH WELL! They might as well get used to it cuz I am going to have this CD on repeat for a very long time. Thank you, Jermaine for gracing the rap world with masterful and bona fide talent!! Keep doing ya thannng!!

Idle

Life Hurts, Love Stings. Tired of Living in a dream that seems to be a nightmare. They say face ur fears but what about your tears? Is it okay to cry? Sometimes I question. Ask God why am I still I alive. Been faced with a wretched reality. Almost fell. Did fall. Went through the crash and the storm, im still alive. Kinda wonder why. All i do is cry. Tired of the dismay. Kinda immune to pain, Dont feel nothing. Dont dream nothing, Dont feel nothing. Im numb. Stiff. Damn, Somethings gotta give.

Mystery

(COPYRIGHTED BY NIGHTTIME WRITERS PUBLICATIONS..DON'T BE DUMB FOR YOU WILL BE PROSECUTED AND MAY END UP IN JAIL OR FORCED TO PAY A FINE...ENJOY!!!)



I remember him so clearly, he was a beauty. He sat in the back of the room, fourth row, fourth




seat to be exact. The first day I saw him, I admired him. He was different…the other students



would engage in the classroom conversations, he would just sit in the back and write notes. He



didn’t seem to communicate with the other students…He would sit there like a mystery that is



waiting to be discovered.



I remember when I first walked into the room and  began to call the names on the roster, I made



eye contact with him as soon as his name rolled off my tongue, “Amere Rashad”… That was the



first, but far from the last time that I looked into those mysterious gray eyes. Those eyes..they’re gray



in the daytime, but seem to darken at night..Those eyes…They pierce you…they seem to look



deep into you..Beyond the outside…Those eyes…They're Hypnotizing.



Oh how I loved to call his name everyday in my African American novel class, “Amere



Rashad”…it sounds so natural coming from my lips..Amere Rashad… for the first two weeks of



class he never said more than “here” after I called his name. Then it happened. I rushed back to



my office after having lunch with my colleague, Yvette. As I struggled to force the key into the



lock I heard a deep voice … “ Excuse me, Dr. West”, for a split second I felt paralyzed..I knew



it was him…those words ran through me and stimulated me…I felt like I was a high school girl



who realized that her crush had just came and said his first words to her..I wanted to run, but I



was overjoyed at the same time. “Hello”, I turned around hoping he didn’t notice the excitement



on my face. “Yes I was wondering if I could talk to you about the paper that’s due next week”



his voice..it was a mixture of baritone that seemed to sing into my ear. The moment my eyes



locked his..my vagina began to moisten..the same eyes that I would meet every day I called his name on the roster..The same



eyes that seemed to undress me every time he would glance at me in class. The glance would



turn into a stare, I could feel him staring at me as I went about giving my lecture. I admired him



everything from his smooth caramel complexion to the way he dressed. He was different…he



had a look of importance..a look of security.



“Sure I can talk to you, come in” I was able to mumble as I fumbled to unlock the door. I



put my bag down..and looked at the time 1: 59..my African American Women in Literature



class started in one minute, but hey I would never turn down an opportunity to gaze into those



mesmerizing eyes, I thought as I closed and locked the door. I wondered if he noticed that I



nervous.  My nervousness that transformed  from excitement to arousal  to just plain  lust in less than



thirty seconds. “ Yes ma’am, I have the guidelines for the paper, but I’m confused on where I



want to go with mine" He said as he gazed at me… my eyes drifted from his eyes to his



mouth…mmm…those lips they appear so full and soft… I found myself imagining them


kissing me sensually..my lips..my neck…my breast…and all the way down until they reached



their intended destination. “Well do you know which work you’re going to do your paper on?”



I asked as his eyes locked mine. It was almost as it we were reading each others' thoughts. I



saw his lust in his glare…his eyes locked within mine…they tranquilized me…he was doing



it again…undressing me...tasting me… Unique..Unique..he whispered as I straddled him in



my chair… “ssh… we can’t make too much noise”…but it felt so good… “ Amere Rashad” I



moaned.



My coffee fell from my hands …snap…back to reality. I was so involved in my sinful thoughts



I forgot to put the coffee down… how did I not put it down when I came in? “ I’ll help



you” he went and got some paper towels and wiped my clumsiness off the floor for me. From our talk about his



paper on Toni Morrison , I learned he was from Boston, he ended up here in DC by his father



convincing him to come to Howard, his mother lives in Crofton, Capricorn, twenty two years



old. He decided to become an English major because he loves to write. His favorite rapper



is Nas, he loves all types of music. And he was performing in downtown DC that Friday at



an open mic at a club called Vogue. Ironically, Yvette had asked me to join her to the same



event. “You should come”. “Yes Dr. Nelson asked me to join her, I will definitely be there”.



I lied to Yvette and told her that I had way too much work to do to go. It was only a half lie,



my intentions were that she would end up not going at all. My planned worked, she said that she



would just stay home and do some work herself.



As I looked in my closet I tried to find the most seductive outfit that I could. I found a cute



wool skirt and a shirt that showed my bosom. I looked in the mirror and added the final touches.



Fierce! My dreads were pinned up neatly and showed the beauty of my face, my skirt showed my



curves. My heart pounded as I stood outside the club. I knew he would be surprised to find me



alone. As the speaker introduced him , my heart skipped beats, “Amere Rashad”, I have no idea



what he performed… I was too busy wanting and hoping that he would notice me afterwards



and…and whatever happens …happens.



I was sitting at the table by myself enjoying my latte five minutes or so after he



performed… “You made it” his voice…so seductive. “Yes I did, Yvette decided not to come,



but I was on this side of town, so I said why not” I lied…a bad lie. “Well im glad you came,



you look nice” he states as he takes a seat beside me and eyes my chest. “Thank you, you were



great up there!” I honestly had no idea rather he was great or he embarrassed himself up there.



We talked for hours. Though it only seemed like minutes. Our chemistry was great, from how



we acted no one would’ve guessed that he was my student who was damn near ten years younger



then me. We had a vibe, we liked the same music, same movies, same books, novelist. Oh how



I wished that he would’ve taken me right then and there in the back of that club. But we had



something greater than physical sex, we had mental sex. In less than one week, he knew my



fears, my desires, my first name, my past, my secrets. I knew his fears, his goals, his love life.



He was single, he just got out of a serious relationship and was “chillin” for the most part. He



knew that I had been single for about two years now, my last relationship left me heartbroken.



Before we knew it two hours had passed by. “So what are you getting into for the rest of the



night?” he asked. “Not sure, I really don’t have plans”. He invited me to have dinner with him



at a restaurant about a mile away. After dinner and more great convo, I ended up at his place. He



had his own spot, a nice studio apartment.



It happened. My lustful thoughts became actuality. His eyes did more than undress me…his



hands did..his lips..mmm those lips...they made love to my body from head to toe. We made



more than love…we made music and our lust sang the sinful tune..I screamed his name in



ecstasy…Amere Amere….



We spent the whole weekend together. Our affection was repeated some fifteen maybe twenty



times. Reality…



Monday… I look in the mirror and I don’t see the same Unique West who vowed to never fall



in love again. Here I was ecstatic to see my Student in class…Maybe it didn’t register the first



night I envisioned him making love to me…He is my Student I am his teacher…and here I am



trying to decide what to wear because I knew he would be watching me. I spent all Sunday night



reflecting on my weekend. I didn’t get Any Work Done!!



Monday…he wasn’t in class. I called him he didn’t answer. Tuesday…I call..no



answer…Wednesday “Amere Rashad”….absent..call..no answer. This became a pattern for the



next two weeks. Until finally his name wasn’t on the roster. I asked other faculty members had



they heard of him..No one ever had. I found myself hurt, and disappointed. Hurt that someone



who I had shared my deepest secrets with and my body with could betray me..Leave without



a sign. Disappointed that I actually felt hurt…This wasn’t supposed to happen again…I even



dropped by his apartment one day…no one there… I asked a neighbor about him… “This place



has been vacant for about two months now”..this was two weeks after our encounter. It was



as if he never existed. So here I am in love with someone who I was beginning to feel never



existed… Am I going insane? The class didn’t remember him..No one did..but me.. So here I am



lost..im left with nothing but memories of a love affair that only lasted for a weekend before my



lover dropped off the face of the earth…



I miss his lips..kissing me ever so gently…his manhood..entering my love canal..and those



eyes…Those mysterious eyes...



Sometimes I lay here and envision him caressing me…his name escapes my lips, “Amere



Rashad”…if only all fantasies could come true.

Poetic Suicide

Do I need reason to exist?
Why must I have explanation for my impetuous decision to be who I am
to live free
But why do these cynical thoughts of a failed/ deferred goals imprison me
im Hindered. Lost. Like a soldier. Beaten. Wounded. Lost to Defeat.
There was a time when I was the soul driven by immoveable ambitions
I climb. I conquer. I believed In a Successful destiny.
Give up? Who? Never Me?
I am a Leader. A Believer. A dreamer.
I am the goat. Determined to climb to the top by any means.
The world on My Back. Digression On my  Feet.
But still I climb. I motivate. I never give up....
..But then I did Give up...
Adversity Intruded like a thief in the night...
Knocked me down.. Now i cant even rhyme right
My vision obscured...My thoughts altered..All i feel is Piercing strife...
Thoughts of suicide invade me. Why am I alive...
Sitting up at night with the knife by my side...
The pain stings as i begin to slice...i wont go to deep...
Might as well end it all.. My Demons lay awake whispering...
Daring Me to Commit the ultimate crime...Part of me wants to die...part is scared to die
I Pray. "God Where are You"?
...this cant be life...
Im tired of the strife.  I want to end it all..it just might be tonight

Love's Death

There comes a time when things Change...




People change, Even the weather Changes



In fact, so have I



It came in the Fall that the leaves transformed from their beautiful Green into A dark, weary Yellow & brown



In this time I was head over hills



I knew love for we spoke of love, BUT due to distance We never indulged in its bliss



Until the fall. I knew I was in love for though I had spoke of it before, i now I had love.



Every mornig I woke up in His arms. I fell asleep Safe & Content



Every time the sun rose I awakened to those dreamy eyes of Love.



We were inseparable. We ate together, Walked together, showered together, slept together, We even worked together…



Wherever I went, love was right there by my side..Encouraging me, hugging me, kissing me





Whenever there was adversity Love fought with me…He held my hand when I was down…assured me that things would get better…



We were Ideal.



BUT I guess we got too comfortable; for when the season changed & things became white, we turned COLD.



We argued a bit, we fell out A few times.



I thought we were through, you SAID you were THROUGH.



But somehow we survived the winter Storm and Landed back to the safety of our contentment.



We cuddled, we “boo-loved”, we were lazy, for the rest of the winter. ..You became my best friend again…



Then, in the spring when the leaves were alive again We Blossomed into something REAL.



We were authentic & the sublime times we shared validated the authenticity of our love.



There was no more “fairy tale” it was just routine…a good routine .

You were used to me, I was used to you.



Maybe we began to expect too much for we began to argue…then fight.



Maybe we were bored with routine. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing after all.



I would provoke you, you would do the same.

I would cry, I would push, you would too.



I hit, you try to walk away, NOW im pissed….



I hit, you shove, I scratch, now you’re bruised…scratched.



I would get over it apparently, you couldn’t.



At times it bothered me, it terrified you.



So finally when the temperatures were sky high & the girls started wearing less clothing, yeu quit your full time job of a committed relationship…



I lost your attention. You came around but WE never did.

You said you still loved me, you refused to show it.



While your summer was consisting of sunny days and humid winds, mine was Bitter cold. Frigid. Lonely.



My heart was weak. Sorrow consumed me. I begged you to come back. You Refused. I promised I would Change. “No more fights, I won’t touch you…we Can work it out ” I pleaded…you wouldn’t listen.



I hurt…I was lost, you seemed fine



Finally, one mean, cruel hot day you said “we can try”…



Then SHE lied & fought against our renowned Love.



I held on, your love decreased. I refused to let go, you were confused.

It was a viscous battle between seasons. The hot summer days struggled with the blissful autumn nights.



Heartache vs. My fairy tale. Love vs. routine. Denial vs. Happiness



Right there at the end of August right in between Humidity and brown leaves love lost the battle.



It was a cruel war but it was over then…but we held on to love’s last breath..refusing to let go.



For four more seasons we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Made love. Hated Each other. Slept together. Cheated & lied with each other.



You left. I cried. You had her. I was mortified.



You came back. You left. I cried & now in the unpleasant Heat wave we’ve finally let go…



We let love die. Though it fought diligently for its life for an entire year…one day you unplugged the life support system… I cried.



Now, my summer is twice as dreadful, pregnant with Dismay & heartbreak.



I pray that One day Love will revive itself. It wont be the same love..not you and I, but me & another, you & she…



I pray that Love will spread it’s wings…maybe in the fall…maybe in the snowy winter or maybe four springs away…



But, for now, love all I can do is grieve your loss until the flowers bloom again& the rain falls & washes away my pain & my dreaded tears.



Oh love, were art thee? Why must you die? For now all I do is cry …wishing that you were still mine….

Write Away

Anyone who knows me is aware that blogging or "article writing" really isn't my thing. I do believe that my calling is to be a creative writer. For years my friends and family have complimented me for my unique way with words and my extraordinary story telling ability. However, for whatever reason, I now want to become more diverse when it comes to writing in general. I do believe that pressing your pen to a piece of paper, or even tapping the letters on the computer is a beautiful, challenging act within itself. I fell in love with writing when I realized that it is the safest yet most expressive way for me to get my feelings out or communicate with someone else...even myself. I mean come on, anybody can present an awesome speech overflowing with impressive verbiage. BUT I believe it takes an intelligent, gifted individual to creatively and impressively compose how they feel and actually touch the reader's hearts' and minds'. For me writing is divine, heavenly, and the ONLY positive outlet i have aside from praying. It feels good to know that though I may feel like some of my dreams may be unattainable, no one can take my gift of writing from me. EVER. I may not have the job of my dreams, but ONE day my stories and my book will be published. Sometimes, i feel like that's all i have to look forward to in life..maybe it's true, but the fact of the matter is...i wouldn't trade the mezmerizing, exhilarating rush that overcomes me once I finish a short story or a page of my book for the world.

Chris A Fake?

Ever since that horrific day in February 2009 when the news, internet, and radio rapidly over flowed with reports that the dynamic Chris Brown had allegedly beaten his girlfriend Rihanna, Mr. Brown has virtually served as negative image in the media. Once the net and TV revealed the less than pleasant photos of Rihanna's brutally beaten face, Chris was ultimately labeled as a "domestic abuser". A year and a half later, Chris has been placed on probation, faced with the arbitrary opinions of the media, and has been robbed of his once exemplary image. Though, Chris has apologized publicly and seems to be remorseful for his violent act, many fans and people in general have yet to forgive him. However, it is safe to assert that spite Brown's tarnished image, he is definitely one of the most talented and versatile R&B artist. Chris’ performance in honor of Michael Jackson proves this to be true.




Mr. Breezy, already infamous for his phenomenal dance moves, managed to blow the crowd away as he performed replications of ”Billie Jean' and "Smooth Criminal". Chris moon walked and rocked on the stage with the SAME grace and talent as the legendary MJ. Audience members (the same ones who judged him for the Rihanna situation) were on their feet applauding the young star as he continued to deliver an awesome performance. However, when it came time for chris to perform "Man In The Mirror", he suddenly burst into a river of tears. Sobbing uncontrollably, Brown wasn't even able to sing a tune. Instead, he embraced the stream of tears that dramatically poured down his face. As the camera showed the faces of the audience, all you saw was empathy in their expressions and people saying "aww". Viewers and audience members alike couldnt help but feel the pain of Mr. Brown as he continued to cry without ceasing. Though, Brown failed to deliver "Man in the mirror' because of his over flow of emotions, his performance was still nothing less than touching and astonishing.

BUT the next day Bloggers, reporters, and entertainers began asserting that Chris' act was nothing but a publicity stunt in attempt to get people to empathize with him. Ultimately, people are assuming that Brown is not apologetic for the violent crime he committed. After two and a half years Breezy has apologized, and has been berated by America's cruel judgments and opinions and yet they will not just let him be...interesting.