7.22.09 07/22/2009

It has been quite some time. Don't have internet at home and I can't update my blog from my phone so um...yeah.
I am going to be a middle school teacher. I'm still getting used to that idea.
I'm really excited about getting more involved in Atlanta's poetry scene. I'm gonna start doing poetry slams. I have several poetry goals before I graduate from college:
Win a slam
Go to the National Poetry Slam
Be a feature at Java Monkey

I feel like these are realistic goals. I have been writing like crazy. I have started on a few poems and jotted down ideas for some other ones. My biggest thing is practicing the performance.

I am on a mission. I'm going to every open mic and writer's workshop I can get to.

I have a new inspiration that I should add to my site: Theresa Davis. She is a spoken word artist and a middle school teacher, among other things (including pirate). It's weird to know that someone exists who is doing exactly what I want to do.

Thats all for now.

Fuck2 04/17/2009

Don't fuck with the police

Or they'll fuck you with batons

Supposed to protect you

But they never put condoms on

And they're like STDs

Cause they're fucking everywhere

They'll fuck you on camera like porn stars

They don't fucking care

The legal system is fucked up

But that's nothing fucking new

Always fucking somebody

Shit they might be fucking you

From the back. So you can't see them

The long dick of the law is smooth

And it's always busting

But it won't wait for you

The cops come whenever they want

So either way you lose

Dead or in prison

Which little death do you choose?

Play Russian Roulette with the pros

If you wanna test your luck

Just make sure you're in the mood

Cause you're bound to get fucked.

Fuck1 04/17/2009

There's nothing wrong with fucking

Unless I won't fuck you

Then you say fuck me

But that's something you can't do

So you're fucked.

Or nicer word choice would be you're screwed

But technically you're neither

Cause no one's fucking you

At least not in the literal sense.

So fuck it and move on

Pretend you don't give a fuck.

Act like nothing's fucking wrong

Eat your favorite fucking meal

Put on your favorite fucking song

Then realize you're a fucking idiot

For putting sex music on.

4.17.09 04/17/2009

I'm like a working vacation a huge fucking oxymoron I'm a contradiction, I'm like houses built these days not as strong as I appear I'm a fucking wreck  an underestimated storm I'm calm confusion quiet chaos lost replaced instead of found 

I like to curse. Maybe I subconsciously get a thrill out of saying words that are supposedly forbidden...a perceived good girl saying bad shit. Shit. I like some profane words better than others. Damn is a little too lightweight for me. I like the word shit. I say it without making a conscious effort to. My favorite word is fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I think it sounds perfect for its meaning. It's hard and harsh but can be really sexy or really mean it's a pretty versatile word.

4.11.09 04/11/2009

I've been writing like crazy
Literary insanity
Cause for a minute it seemed
There was a straight jacket on the writer in me and
Inspiration set her free.

I don't know how many poems I've written in the past week...seven days seems like an eternity...but that's because it is...God created the world in seven days and I'm creating a world of poetry.

I'm trying to write a blog but I find myself rhyming writing miniature poems. I've rekindled that spark between Poetry and me see we used to make love all the time but just like with most relationships the passion started to die...well not die it just lie dormant...see Poetry refused to be easy anymore she wanted me to work for her love...romance her cause...
I was taking her for granted.

And now I write odes to her sing songs to her  she stars in all my dreams day, night or otherwise...

Never take the people you love for granted...never take the things you love for granted...never take your passion for granted cause like with most things if you do it just might leave yo ass.

The Ex Factor 03/28/2009

As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes I miss you.
I think about what we should have had...
could have done...
would have been...

I allow myself to wonder why you ended up in the category with all the others

And I question myself

I question what happened between you and me
Even though I know what didn't happen
We didn't last.

I question what I did wrong in the relationship
Even though I know what I did right
I loved you.

I question why I let you in
Even though I know why I let you out
You were no tthe one for me.

And I felt that. At some point, in my heart I felt that you...we...just weren't right.

Except for one time.
There was this one time when I felt that you...we...were just right.
But that didn't work out either. And now we're both different. Different people in different places with different attitudes.

But sometimes...
I allow myself to wonder about
What we should have had...
could have done...
would have been...

But what you are
is an EX.

But still...sometimes I allow myself to wonder
How YOU ended up in the same category
as all the rest.

Alone vs Lonely 03/24/2009

Sometimes I get lonely. But I don't like to admit it. I view my loneliness as an annoyance. A weakness. A dependency on other people that I should not have. I don't want to be sad when no one's around. Well, not sad exactly. I don't want to feel lonely when no one's around.
I've gotten used to being alone. It's possible to be alone and not lonely. It's possible to be in a room full of people and feel alone and lonely.
I find assurance in the fact that I can spend so much time alone. But I feel like I've "paid my dues." I've spent so much time alone that when  I want to spend time with someone it never seems to happen. I expect to be by myself. I don't get my hopes up about the possibility of someone penetrating my solitude.


People keep asking me about my tattoos so...here is a video with all you need to know.


I took my first belly dance class yesterday evening. It was HARD. Fast movements. You have to catch on very quickly because the instructor will not stop. It was hot. I was sweating and trying to maintain a somewhat steady and regular breathing pattern. The class made me realize that although I have rhythm, I'm not much of a dancer.

I fucking loved it.

It was so much fun. The music was beautiful. I was surrounded by women of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Everyone was working hard, beginners and veterans alike. No one judged anyone else's skill level. It was great.

I left the class tired but with an adrenaline rush. It was interesting  to see what moves I picked up easily and which ones I need to work on. According to the instructor and one of the other women taking the class, I can shimmy my ass off. I have the hip and shoulder movements DOWN.

Now to get the other stuff together.

Glazed 02/19/2009

LUV is infatuation with a thin covering of lust like the glaze on a Krispy Kreme donut

And it's sweet. And sticky. And delicious.

And addictive.

And that hot light comes on and something inside you comes on as well.

Cause Luv is sweet. And warm.

But notice how even when you get a box it never lasts long

Cause Krispy Kreme donuts melt in your mouth and disappear quickly

Only providing temporary satisfaction that was never good for you in  the first place.


Such is Luv.


    Nfinite Dream

    I live. I love. I write. I live longer. I love some more. I write. That's the story of my life.