Only the Brave: #AMuseD #MuseWeasel

I wrote sooooo many poems...i mean my pen was in full throttle motion !!!! I can't believe how much I wrote...he became my ONLY muse to a point that when it was all over and done with, I couldn't write ANYTHING...its been a long journey back to moving my pen for poetry....we are still somewhat estranged so to speak....

I remember i printed fifty something poems  and took them to New York with me to figure out how to put it in a book....and for a minute, I titled the book "Only the Brave"......

and this was one of the pieces....idk how I could have driven for so long on the sidewalk....cars belong on the street and this dude had made a left turn at Albuquerque many moons prior to the day I accepted the memo.

Untitled #5

"U allude me like night shadows awakened thru room lights turning on....

U string me like beans, drying after the wash

I'm breezing back and forth for your pendulum. ...

U leave me

Like unexpected periods, returning to their cubicles. . .

How long we gonna dance under cherry moons with no clothes and pretend we don't like being exposed. ...

I'd give u my secrets if u asked for one....

But u withhold u r shine when I beg for a peak of the sun....

This the kind of black magic I've been warned against playing with...

And still i stand here

Alluded

and impatiently waiting."

...smh. So gone.

#AMuseD #MuseWeasel

Creepshow: TomDickHarry Foolery, Part I of IIII #AMuseD #MuseTom #Muse#0000000

Today's Blog-track is a AmazonPrime: The Good Wife, Season 4. 

Lets go. This is a very long story, mostly because of some of my own damned ridiculous as well as some of mine. So I'm weaving three tales of Tom Foolery together for a Creepshow blog series within a blog series. So many titles. #Inception 

 It was one of the years when I was still wet behind the poetic ears….i was still dripping with extreme excitement and with the desire to go to all places that held poetry, no matter how near or far they were. I desired to be engulfed in the perimeters of those who spit for a living. I wanted to be one of those people.  So when I heard about something big that was happening for poetry, I was the first one looking to organize the trip to go….ESP when it was close.

So there was this one time, me and a sisterfriend went to a different city to hear what we loved: Poetry. I hoped to gain more knowledge and learn a thing or two. Maybe even network a little although I was still on the very shy side, so opening up and sharing so much as my name offstage was a bit of a task for me. But I was ready for whatever. To listen to poets, from all over and hear styles of poetry that I had never head and hear subject matter I never thought to write about I didn’t go to do poetry; I went to experience it.

I was at the hotel bar by myself. Taking in my surroundings. There were MANY people crowded into this small room with windows that looked out towards the traffic passing by.  I think that was the view. There were a lot of people. Most were poets or at least writers of some capacity. It was the evening of the final show and many people were gathered inside this bar, unwinding and knocking back a few shots and glasses of cheap wine before the show.

The bar was a U Shape. Like the bars at Chili’s. I sat on the Westside, having a drink of some kind. By myself, minding my business. I know how to take on a scene and be chill and peaceful….by myself. Even at a bar. My sisterfriend was in our room, getting some chill of her own. She would later come down or maybe it was the day before that we sat there, at the same bar but rather in a booth, having a drink and talking and laughing about the time spent. We were there for two or three days. But at this moment, had she been there, this story would probably be fiction. But it’s not and she was in the room.

I was a fan of his. Simply a fan. I had no other thoughts or desires to do anything other than see him perform live or listen to the way he turned words into best friends and worst enemies in the most vivid of ways. I saw him live one time awhile before this event and was an instant fan. I head him during this event. He still had it. I was still a fan. I was a fan. Fan. He was sitting about two chairs down from me when he turned and started conversation. From here, I will try to speed up.

I’m not a star struck person. Not a groupie. Not for stars or locals or in betweens or undergrounds. For no one. No matter how much in awe of a person I may actually be, I would never show it. I still got pride, no matter how often misplaced. In between my repressed excitement at the fact that one of my favorites was talking to little ole me made me excited. I would have loved to have shared some of my poetry. Or spoken about the positioning of words on paper or the sounds you hear when you describe, but he was more interested in knowing what my response would be to him sticking his tongue down my throat. WAYMENT-

We were just talking about how I saw him perform live before. I think I may have been bold enough to mention I was a writer, but I'm usually really low key on that note. Idfk, but what I do know for a fact is that I did NOTHING to warrant that form of conversation from someone who, off stage, was a complete fucking stranger. (did i just get angry again?) 

Kissing me. hmph....

I had NEVER thought past words with this person. And I heard such beautiful words from him, but in this moment, this moment where I had the chance to learn something and trade thoughts, here I was sitting at a bar wondering how fast I could get out of this awkward situation.

I was actually taken aback. I’ve never been quick on my toes. My poems are cool because I get a chance to really utilize the thought process to carefully pick out my words, whereas, in instant situations, unless I have a trained response already ready, I usually fumble for my actual reaction. Then I have my actual reaction after the fact. -_- So just like my natural reaction to being too aloof in unprotected environment, I gave a shaky smile… and honestly, I don’t remember what I said….it wasn’t what it should have been. But then more awkward things started happening in the midst of my poetic oasis. Someone came and stood directly in between us, even though we were facing each other in conversation.

But that’s another blog.

Actually, I think I already wrote it on the personal blog I’ve kept since 2008-ish…so yeah, idk what I said but then that happened and I don’t know. Somehow I managed to scat up outta there. I put that shit in the back of my Pandora section.

I felt like all my paperdoll thoughts blue up in fire. Like whoa! Why me ? Wait- what did I do ? Did he find some twisted up telekinetic way to connect with me that made him think that was appropriate conversation to have with a stranger? A complete stranger? I was HIS fan. And no one there knew me. So to what did I owe this kissingship? I remember him telling me about coming up to his room. OooofCOURSE you are in the same hotel as me. -_- But not once, before now, have you seen me and now this? But but-

But …I’m your fan!!!! OF POETRY!!! Does that somehow turn me into an accidental groupie, I mean what the fuck, are you a rapper? Are male poets rappers? Do they get Drake and Wayne pussy by the pound, do women toss themselves at these niggas like they Gods or some shit? Cause I’ve met quite a few poetic JESTERS and I’m just keeping it honest, from MY opinion.

Fucking clown shit….but of course, these are all the thoughts that began to formulate after the fact. I don’t know how I burst his bubble, but believe me when I say I did! I mean shit man….What a way to bust my poetry groove thang up. Here I am, all anonymously bursting with excitement in this Disneyland of spoken word artists; this shit was the LAST thing I would have expected. 

How come I don’t get the same treatment you gave the paper? Where women were Queens!? You wouldn’t talk to Queen Elizabeth like that and she’s white! I’m YOUR missing link, your melanin sharing Aphrodite and you give me hoodrat lingo with twist of lime? And then give the paper the upliftment?

Ican’t.

Talk about a fucked up night to be a fan.

PART o if o_O

#AMuseDBy #MuseTomDickHarry #Muse#00000000

Setting Fire to the Rain

Yesterday, I had a brief moment…..

It was very brief…it was a spontaneous mind trip down unfortunate memory lane and in as I strolled about my bedroom, folding clothes, hanging dresses and looking out the window while smoking an unhealthy dose of black n mild, I thought of him. …..

Actually, I was thinking of someone else.

I was thinking very specific and it lead me right to the gas station with a blow  torch and  a cigarette. It’s funny how the slightest thought or quirk can catapult you backwards into thinking about something or someone you have no desire to let your mind mingle with. So, while thinking of a kiss, a potential kiss; nothing real, nothing in stone, no real suitor, I was actually being horny and lustful and was drifting with my thoughts somewhere in the comfort and safety of my bedroom of Not Happening.

And the next thing I knew, I was pulling up at the pump, wrestling with myself to stay in the car, lock the doors and drive off…..there was a part of me, forceful in it’s strength that kept suggesting I let the thoughts play themselves out…..this imaginary portion of my conscious was trying to convince me that allowing it to come and go at it’s leisure was in face, me controlling my thoughts. Which I do believe is quite the opposite.

From thinking about what it might be like to kiss a pair of lips I saw on an out of town excursion, during a horny moment at the crib, doing nothing but smoking and cleaning, STILL led me down the #MuseWeasel street for performing artist, aka, dudes who pretend to be men. #LowBlow #ImSTILLHealing?

I stopped trying to fight it. I let the thought happen. It was me thinking of how he kissed me. How we kissed, many times, in cars, outside places of business, in front of his son, on my porch, in front of my entire neighborhood, in front of people, places, things: NOUNS were never a factor. It quickly transitioned from the delight it used to be to play with his lips to what is the new currency. He is still kissing….and probably still somewhat a voyeur in his kisses….he’s a scorpio…I hear they are freaks, but I’m positive that they are just jerks with human-like tendencies that are only activated on their accord. * shrug*  he’s kissing someone else now.

And I haven’t been kissed since November. The first week of November.

We are closer to November 2014 than we are Nov 2013. It’s closing in on a year since I was kissed. And the one time I strut around, living in a short clip fantasy, my thoughts are stolen and misdirected over to the guy who is enjoying kissing someone else.

The first time I saw a picture of the them together was the day I thought I would be ok. It was the day that made it worse. And it was the last day we spoke to each other. It was Valentine’s Day. And within two weeks, while trying to pretend that I was doing better with each day, I would lose one of my closest sisterfriends…….

And would be thrown to the fire I had been contemplating starting since the years beginning. But I this wasn’t really what I had in mind. I wanted to do damage to his life,

To his things….since I opted to not call him out on Facebook like I so wanted to, I just wanted to fuck him up. Nights would pass with me laying awake, plotting.

I wanted to FUCK HIM UP….straight up. I was 4 seconds from not giving a fuck about being locked up for the first time, I wanted to do things to him. ….not to her, although I did plan to send her some shit too….just to let her know I existed, but then I kept saying to myself “who am I ? “

WHAT EXISTS ?

What would I be snitching on??? She won’t give a damn and neither will he. I was more livid at myself than I was him and I think that is honestly the only thing that kept me from rearranging how he thought of me. I had turned amazingly childish…I was inboxing him all day, every day, cussing him out….copy/pasting FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU into facebook paragraphs. While I wasn’t calling him out in a status, our inbox thread was filling up, day by day, with name calling, me chanting to him how much of a regret he was and how I hated and despised the day I remembered what the fuck he called himself….i told him of his selfishness….i told him how much I hurt….i remember us being on the phone at one point, during the day, and I was crying…..he said “what are you crying for” ?

I had heard those words before….

I had heard a man ask me that before…..i wish, looking back, that I  had just hung up on him and never looked back. I didn’t….i kept going …I kept inboxing…..he loved it. He ate it up…told me how he would rather me talk to him about how I was feeling rather than tell my girlfriends and have them ready to mount up…..he didn’t want to be embarrassed by his behavior….and I didn’t. I kept cool on surface, while inboxing arson to classroom. I was threatening him, her, I was angry…I wanted to catch them together and fuck him up….i wanted to wait outside of his house, right there on the corner, and fuck him up…..i wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to see how much he hurt me, affected me and rearranged me, and take it all back. That would never happen. He needed someone to talk to, so he said.

Told me that he rekindled this love by accident basically. I had to FORCE him to admit that she was his girl….and that I was no one….and had always been….that he gave her the flowers…on the same day I gave him money....he wouldn’t even admit to the length of their ‘talking’ (yeah because muthafuckas turn from hello to in a relationship overnight)…..i kept wanting to tell him that I had gone to contweets and saw their public flirting and communication had began right around that first time he stood me up.

Yeah he stood me up for a game at Victory Field…I had free tickets from a coworker….he stood me up and fucking pretended to not remember we had a date……and my feelings were so hurt….he promised to make it up, promised that he was gonna prove that I wasn’t wasting my time with him…..that is direct quote…I’d put it in marks, but his word is so muddy waters, that it won’t matter….he’s a liar. A gamer….maybe a good man now, because I still believe internally he IS a good dude for the right one, but the wrong woman will never get nothing from him but a bucket of tears that his ego will lick up and pretend to be trying to help with your wound. But I was the wrong woman. And so I got that Wrong Woman Treatment…..he voluntarily hurt me…..he told me things and talked to me like we were headed in some mutual direction. I expressed my wants and feelings to him in hopes that it would make him even more honest with me, which was something I thought he already was (sYke my mind ) …….he did nothing but take advantage of all I was ready to be to him….he hurt me, without pause….without care or concern….he pierced me without stopping to see the bloody mess he left behind. ….for weeks, I sat stranded on my couch boo-hooing to my roommate at the time……I was embarrassed….i was sooo embarrassed because I had been depleted of my strength to stay strong, at least around other people. I was in that burning room, dancing. …..

I was in that gas station, on fire.

He had driven off after pumping the next woman’s gas …..

I lost it….i won’t lie….the only thing that helped led me to the surface was this shit was all surrounding my upcoming birthday, which I was getting more and more in the dumps about…..i had walked away from him, I had ended our communication but I felt like I was dumped. We were never in a relationship, but I offered up chances and opportunities to chuck deuces at each other and he would swear that wasn’t what he wanted….all the while, he was offering up the free time he wouldn’t share with me to another woman, across twitter, for all to see.. …both of their fucking pages are public.

I wanted to spit in his face. Seriously….i could have driven up on him and spit in the middle of his face…I wanted him to feel how much I despised the fact that he was granted continued breath……I had never experienced love turning to hate the way this happened…..idk what I felt for him….idk if it was love or not….it damn sure felt like it……and I still believe its there……being continuously surpressed but sometimes, it bubbles out the sides and reminds me that it exists….. I love him ?

HOW ?

How could I love someone who didn’t even respect me enough to let me go…..he told me about a week before my birthday that he felt like we weren’t going anywhere…..lol. So we spent nine months doing dumb shit. Him playing with my feelings  and me allowing it happen….meanwhile, all across Instagram, unbeknownst to me, Miss Thang was wearing the smile he gave her, according to her meme…..she wanted her BAE to know she was thinking of him….looking and checking only for him….according to her memes….and he liked that shit….ate it up….sometimes he was tagged…..others he wasn’t ……

And here I was…

Subliminally looking for my professor to like my morning selfie shot but how could he when his eyes were on someone else’s sparrow ?

I hurt like shit for all of January……my birthday weekend allowed a break in the weather and the fact that I was prepping for a show that was named after and about him, Only The Brave (google it…it might make mo’ sense if you don’t know)…..i performed poems written because of him….and it was way over the top and beautiful….it was what I thought would heal me. ….it didn’t. It was temporary….i rode the high of a successful show and then crashed back into my bedroom, with my NY hat above my bed and a canvas of a little boy that I didn’t know what to do with……then I saw their happy couple picture on valentines day……I thought about murder….

Ok I didn’t think about murder after that.

I just thought about breaking his front dining room windows. * shrug *

I thought about shooting his tires out….i thought about painting his windows, ESP his windshield black….i thought about graffiti …..on his car…I thought about it on his door…I thought about mailing stuff, sending stuff, I thought about saying fuck being in this bad space…I thought about revenge being so sweet.

I didn’t do shit but cry harder and longer.

And before I knew it, it was Feb 27^th…..10am….and my homegirl anitra was on my phone. From that moment forward, everything else was fire……

I been grieving the loss of two people, in two totally different ways, for the last five and six months….i’ve alternated between anger and disbelief….i’ve had no shortage of tears…..no short of guilt….no short of lowered self esteem, no short of doubt of self…..to say it’s a struggle is an understatement…I can be honest….i don’t know how to grieve two losses…..two people….one best friend and one person I loved….she told me she had never seen me beaming like I was about him…….i never got a chance to tell her how much he hurt me……how much I allowed….i never got a chance to smoke and laugh and chop it up with her……

I never got a chance to have him be honest with me.

And all of this is ok……

I can move on, I can live beyond it ….heal beyond it…I can do it…I believe I can.

…..i believe it, up to the moments that I thinking about having a kiss for the first time in too many months,

And there he comes along.

Kissing someone else in my imagination.

It’s those moments where I wish I had set his  fucking life on fire right there, at pump two.

#MuseWeasel #Amused

#MuseInmate#20134102

Today’s soundtrack is currently: #ColdCase #ElleVarner

https://soundcloud.com/ellevarner/elle-varner-cold-case

Cold Case Love: Tuesday Air Play #AMuseMusic

I decided to start including some of the songs that I listen(ed) to because MUSIC is EVERYTHING to me...i wish i could make sense of how much i connect to music and lyrics....i know some folks probably read my song lyric quotes and postings and be like "bitch stop" but....eh....idc. * shrug *

I don't even begin to feel like attempting to explain me, music and lyrics, so i won't. I will just say, if you get it, you get it...if you don't, then you don't. I'm ok with either. Individual Nation Rocks! Lol....

This is me.
This is my life.

This is my AMUSEMENT PARK.
"what should i scream for"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYfBubwSZLk

^^THIS particular link you have to copy and paste because my blog settings are weird and i can't figure out for the life of me, how to UN-weird them. -_-

But hover beneath this line and you will see a link pop up that might not have been visible before hovering over it....i wish i could explain why it does that, but if i could, then i would probably just change it. So....le sigh.

Technology...the shit we love to hate to love.
SongLink:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYfBubwSZLk