Write a poem with the following words in it somewhere.
Cradle, hopeful, sweet, blue, change, shine, photo, ring
Desperately seeking change is the mind
Corrosion spreading through my heart
Tears are streaked with a blue pain
Hopeful thoughts are drowning
Need to rub the dull off
Ring up a purchase of shine
Take a photo for the time being
Show it and toot the horn
Maybe that the key to the sweet cradle
v.andre'a 2005
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Monday, November 14, 2005
Love is a Battlefield - sneak peek
“There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”
William Shakespeare
It is inevitable that more than once in a lifetime, a battle will ensue that will leave major carnage behind. In the art of war, the basis behind becoming victorious is to hone the fighting skills, get close to the enemy and to make the opportunities deathly. Luckily for me, this particular battle is one that is usually a draw despite the sacrifice. The virgin tied to a stake as the town watches on peering over the rock so when the big bad intruder comes there is no mistaking who’s the lamb.
The battle began for the same reason as always. Chasity and Tiffany are my sicken competitive roommates. We all grew up together, went to college together and packed up and moved to the big city together. I’m used to them competing over everything but there is one thing I have yet to get use to, their wagers on men. Any man that walked into their vision was a reason to declare war. Warren was no different, when he called all phone lines in the house were picked up. His recently call he decided to pour it on thick with his riddled question, “Win, lose or Draw? What is it going to be tonight?” The question fluttered around the house as my lips pursed together into a ‘look what you started” whistle, I almost missed the reply, “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
I plopped down in the overstuffed armchair and took some deep breaths as the two ran around in a whirlwind. Unfortunately, this was a normal occurrence that we had dealt with all our lives. We were childhood friends that had made the big move to New York City with hopes of making it big. I was interested in being a writer, Tiffany wanted to be a socialite and Chasity was researching speed dating.
Tiffany kept the house buzzing with something at all times and Chasity was our resident “Suzi homemaker”. I was the observer to the madness of it all. The ear for the stories, the shoulder for the tears and the hand to slap sense into them as needed. I had a feeling tonight would be one that the hand would be used. They were always arguing about this or that.
“What color underwear should I wear?” Chasity yelled from her room.
“Who cares about the color? Eliminate the obstacle and don’t wear any like me!” Tiffany threw her head back in loud laughter.
Chasity scoffed at the idea. “That’s so not ladylike but why should I expect anything more.”
“You are so funny! Don’t get high and mighty sister prude! Don’t any man want a frigid lady.” Tiffany walked out of the bathroom and stood in the hallway with her hands on her hips.
“So, you think Warren will respect you if you had sex with him on the first night?” Chasity leaned against the dresser.
“Girl, I could care less about his respect. I want something that will make me speak in uninvented languages.”
“Well, I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Oh, will you now? So, Miss prim and proper the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, what’s on the menu?”
Chasity and Tiffany went into the small yet sunny kitchen. Tiffany opened the refrigerator to present the wilted celery, too ripe tomatoes, a bag of onions, a clove of garlic, a tub of extra firm tofu and some hummus. A blind man would have thought that was a house of herbivores however we knew that Warren liked meat on his plate and his women, so that wouldn’t cut it. Chasity found some spaghetti sauce in the cabinets but not the noodles and wasn’t sure if she wanted to lie about the mystery meat in sauce.
Chasity sighed loudly and threw her hands up in defeat, “Ok, ok, I need to make a quick run to the store.” She grabbed her purse and keys and stopped just briefly to enforce her motherly ways on me. “Evette, please keep Tiffany under control.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Tiffany overheard her request and as always had to put her two cents in, “Vette, ain’t my mama. I’ll be good cause I want to be! Now go and get us some snacks.” Chasity huffed and walked out the door before the door could slam behind her Tiffany was in my ear talking about her, as usual.
“Vette, we need to Chasity a man cause she stressing me out with all her sexual frustrations.”
“I know but you know she was raised with old fashion morals. I mean she believes that black underwear are only for special occasions.”
“Hmph, she is too by the book for me. I can’t stand that, you would think that I would have rubbed off on her a little bit.”
William Shakespeare
It is inevitable that more than once in a lifetime, a battle will ensue that will leave major carnage behind. In the art of war, the basis behind becoming victorious is to hone the fighting skills, get close to the enemy and to make the opportunities deathly. Luckily for me, this particular battle is one that is usually a draw despite the sacrifice. The virgin tied to a stake as the town watches on peering over the rock so when the big bad intruder comes there is no mistaking who’s the lamb.
The battle began for the same reason as always. Chasity and Tiffany are my sicken competitive roommates. We all grew up together, went to college together and packed up and moved to the big city together. I’m used to them competing over everything but there is one thing I have yet to get use to, their wagers on men. Any man that walked into their vision was a reason to declare war. Warren was no different, when he called all phone lines in the house were picked up. His recently call he decided to pour it on thick with his riddled question, “Win, lose or Draw? What is it going to be tonight?” The question fluttered around the house as my lips pursed together into a ‘look what you started” whistle, I almost missed the reply, “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
I plopped down in the overstuffed armchair and took some deep breaths as the two ran around in a whirlwind. Unfortunately, this was a normal occurrence that we had dealt with all our lives. We were childhood friends that had made the big move to New York City with hopes of making it big. I was interested in being a writer, Tiffany wanted to be a socialite and Chasity was researching speed dating.
Tiffany kept the house buzzing with something at all times and Chasity was our resident “Suzi homemaker”. I was the observer to the madness of it all. The ear for the stories, the shoulder for the tears and the hand to slap sense into them as needed. I had a feeling tonight would be one that the hand would be used. They were always arguing about this or that.
“What color underwear should I wear?” Chasity yelled from her room.
“Who cares about the color? Eliminate the obstacle and don’t wear any like me!” Tiffany threw her head back in loud laughter.
Chasity scoffed at the idea. “That’s so not ladylike but why should I expect anything more.”
“You are so funny! Don’t get high and mighty sister prude! Don’t any man want a frigid lady.” Tiffany walked out of the bathroom and stood in the hallway with her hands on her hips.
“So, you think Warren will respect you if you had sex with him on the first night?” Chasity leaned against the dresser.
“Girl, I could care less about his respect. I want something that will make me speak in uninvented languages.”
“Well, I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Oh, will you now? So, Miss prim and proper the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, what’s on the menu?”
Chasity and Tiffany went into the small yet sunny kitchen. Tiffany opened the refrigerator to present the wilted celery, too ripe tomatoes, a bag of onions, a clove of garlic, a tub of extra firm tofu and some hummus. A blind man would have thought that was a house of herbivores however we knew that Warren liked meat on his plate and his women, so that wouldn’t cut it. Chasity found some spaghetti sauce in the cabinets but not the noodles and wasn’t sure if she wanted to lie about the mystery meat in sauce.
Chasity sighed loudly and threw her hands up in defeat, “Ok, ok, I need to make a quick run to the store.” She grabbed her purse and keys and stopped just briefly to enforce her motherly ways on me. “Evette, please keep Tiffany under control.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Tiffany overheard her request and as always had to put her two cents in, “Vette, ain’t my mama. I’ll be good cause I want to be! Now go and get us some snacks.” Chasity huffed and walked out the door before the door could slam behind her Tiffany was in my ear talking about her, as usual.
“Vette, we need to Chasity a man cause she stressing me out with all her sexual frustrations.”
“I know but you know she was raised with old fashion morals. I mean she believes that black underwear are only for special occasions.”
“Hmph, she is too by the book for me. I can’t stand that, you would think that I would have rubbed off on her a little bit.”
Sunday, November 06, 2005
2 of my Best poems
They both need some work but they are good enough at the moment to post..but they will be tweaked in the near future!
Gaijin
A rose in the land of the rising sun
Potted in concrete and pollution
The saccharine fragrance is fading fast
Petals wilted and dehydrated
Suffocating in the darkness
Thorns bloated with emptiness
There’s an nectar of melancholy
That trickles through an emaciated stem
But its tainted with rage
Fertilizing the roots with emotional chaos.
A rose is the land of the rising sun
Speaks in dead tongues
Talk to me
Water me
Stroke me
Feed me
Love me
Shelter me
Humor me
Deaf ears and blinders ignoring the pain.
In the Land of the Rising sun
A rose is foreign to the natives
Foreign is exploited yet unwanted
Coveting yet isolating
Thoughtless thoughts of thoughtfulness
A constant ray of insanity
Morning mantras of negativity
Fragments of a once beautiful self
Elementally broken and unstable.
2004 v.andre'a
One Night Scent
Excuse me Miss
You smell like someone I want to take home
Maybe we can talk and proceed to bone
Little miss has an agenda of her own
she dreams of creating a happy home
with picket fences, little feet tracking mud onto the floor
She takes this proposition as the magical cure
So instead of acknowledging the illusion
She disregards all the possible conclusions
Hope and faith strings her out
Holding her soul desire of this life’s clout
Her smell is suffocatingly strong
causing a release of slow leaking moans
Breathing is a fetish for him
He steps out on a limb
As he reaches for her arm
And embrace her with his whispered charm
The air shifts ever so slightly
He licks his lips lightly
As she melts into the wetness
As his arms wrap around her
they dance in various speeds of lust
the confused wonderment of each other
she is tucked into a magical tomorrow
only to wake up holding a question mark in her hand
periods are stamped across his forehead
replacing yesterday’s exclamations
hyphenated with the finality of her once heady whiff.
she drags herself away in a trance
reliving last night’s dance
the felt deja vu was the clue
Dropping hints in his flared nostils
The adams apple bobbing
in a crazed gasp for one last breathe
the effect remains the same
it goes by life’s hindsight’s name
bottle it up so it fades undetected
engineered to kill andthen repent
Lord, discontinue this one night scent.
2005 v.andre’a
Gaijin
A rose in the land of the rising sun
Potted in concrete and pollution
The saccharine fragrance is fading fast
Petals wilted and dehydrated
Suffocating in the darkness
Thorns bloated with emptiness
There’s an nectar of melancholy
That trickles through an emaciated stem
But its tainted with rage
Fertilizing the roots with emotional chaos.
A rose is the land of the rising sun
Speaks in dead tongues
Talk to me
Water me
Stroke me
Feed me
Love me
Shelter me
Humor me
Deaf ears and blinders ignoring the pain.
In the Land of the Rising sun
A rose is foreign to the natives
Foreign is exploited yet unwanted
Coveting yet isolating
Thoughtless thoughts of thoughtfulness
A constant ray of insanity
Morning mantras of negativity
Fragments of a once beautiful self
Elementally broken and unstable.
2004 v.andre'a
One Night Scent
Excuse me Miss
You smell like someone I want to take home
Maybe we can talk and proceed to bone
Little miss has an agenda of her own
she dreams of creating a happy home
with picket fences, little feet tracking mud onto the floor
She takes this proposition as the magical cure
So instead of acknowledging the illusion
She disregards all the possible conclusions
Hope and faith strings her out
Holding her soul desire of this life’s clout
Her smell is suffocatingly strong
causing a release of slow leaking moans
Breathing is a fetish for him
He steps out on a limb
As he reaches for her arm
And embrace her with his whispered charm
The air shifts ever so slightly
He licks his lips lightly
As she melts into the wetness
As his arms wrap around her
they dance in various speeds of lust
the confused wonderment of each other
she is tucked into a magical tomorrow
only to wake up holding a question mark in her hand
periods are stamped across his forehead
replacing yesterday’s exclamations
hyphenated with the finality of her once heady whiff.
she drags herself away in a trance
reliving last night’s dance
the felt deja vu was the clue
Dropping hints in his flared nostils
The adams apple bobbing
in a crazed gasp for one last breathe
the effect remains the same
it goes by life’s hindsight’s name
bottle it up so it fades undetected
engineered to kill andthen repent
Lord, discontinue this one night scent.
2005 v.andre’a
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