Confessions From A Black Rose

Five A.M Coffee Black Fuck, not again. 

After a harsh winter, I find myself in the midst of spring. I have planted seeds and I await for them to come to bloom. The unforgiving winter winds and blistering cold may be long gone but they whisper on my breath. Now as I await my summer I wonder if my winter was as bad as I believed it to be. In the darkness I watch the sun rise and set. All alone I wonder if today will be the first day of summer. Along this journey I have experienced detours and roadblocks. At times there were paths that disappeared from my horizon. Sometimes I wonder if I only dreamed of them. Call it stupidity or call it optimism, I have complete faith that all the fruits of my labor will come to light. It is the wait that causes me grief. Waiting for the indication that the winds have changed and my season has arrived. The season of the midnight sun. The season where butterflies fly during the day and fireflies light the skies at night. I am ready for the summer of my life. One thing I do know is that ...

When I was a senior in college I wrote a letter to my future daughter  for a class. Even though there were certain topics that I was supposed to address my letter was organic and heartfelt. As I look at the world around me I have no doubt in my mind that I will raise a strong independent female. She will be encourage to be honest, opinionated and a little warrior.  I know that things will never be easy for her but I am confident that I will give her a great foundation to handle all the punches. With each moment I get concerned for the welfare of my unborn son. What kind of man will he be? Will he know that being vulnerable is not a sign of weakness? Will he know that being caring does not make him less of a men? Will he know that sadness is apart of life and it is okay to express that emotion? Will he have no space for hate in his heart? Will he be able to play with dolls without people questioning his sexuality? Will he be a man the brings people up inst...

First of all, I am  not too sure what this post will be about. When I blog it is usually about issues that piss me off, videos that make me laugh or to share my art. There are several thoughts floating in my head but none seem executed enough for a full blog post. I can inform you that in the next couple of weeks I will post my first video log, my second installment in the War on Women series and my spring TV wrap up. Now lets see what will happen if I just write as a process of healing. What wonders will I discover? Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly. Lanston Hughes The older I get the more I realize how much I know and how much more I have yet to learn. This fact does not bother me anymore because I know that besides life being one daring adventure it is also a test, a live performance, the final event. You get no dress rehearsals, no practice exams and absolutely no warm ups. This life is all that you get an...

Emptiness No words, no thoughts, no pain There is nothing left of me on this page What will it take for these buried words to bleed upon this page? Will I have to lie? Emptiness That is all that remains on this surface Hours go by but no brush strokes Frustration  Floods my soul As I try to rectify the mistakes from yesterday Broken promises Are all that I am good for Is that why the words fail to assemble? Panic Consumes me As I fear they may never form What if The damage is never revealed Will I always be broken? Breathe These thoughts have bleed before They will flow once more Emptiness That is all the remains on this surface No words, no thoughts, no pain What will it take for these buried words to bleed upon this page? Will I have to die?

vengeful wrath springs like a river consuming thy enemy

Dear Tree of Life, I came to you as your reluctant servant. How many years have we played this game of submission and resistance? How many years have I fought to be free from the black hole you have enclosed me in? How many scars I have I endured? With each passing hour I feel your vines tightening around my wrists constricting my every movement. With each passing hour I feel your branches tapping against my skull. There is no life here where you have constrained me. All that I have loved has long vanished. I feel that if you do not release me I will be consumed by the pit of despair that has taken all that I have cherished in this world. I came to your now as your reluctant servant, begging for my freedom. One way or another I shall crawl up this hole and claim the life you have longed denied me.

Over the past three months I have been reevaluating my life. I have been forced to think about what I have been doing with myself? What do I like about my life and what I absolutely despise about my life. Being a not so recent college graduate everyone wants to know what I have been doing with myself since the tassels and the diploma.  How can you condense the past two years of "real" life experience into a few sentences without boring or scaring off the other party? The truth is they do not really care about all you been through they just want a synopsis to go on with their lives. I feel like a lot of things have happened to me as oppose to me making things happen for myself. Honestly these past five years I have been given grenade full of shit with the expectation of turning it into masterpiece. The grenade is still in my hands but I am ready to let go of it. Throw it far away from me where I can witness its destruction miles away. Someone once ...

It is the little things that get to me The little things that stop me dead in my tracks Causing my spirit to rupture from my body. I remember the little things How the sun could trace the hazel in your eyes How the wind could capture the scent of your cologne Causing my nose to tremble I remember how you would hold me after a bad day Washing away all of my troubles With each soothing touch. It just the little things I remember Like the warmth of your smile The life in your laugh Its just the little things that keep me up at night Wondering who's receiving your encouraging words Or your loving touch Who's waking up to the sounds of you Humming in the kitchen. It's the little things i miss Blueberry muffins on the kitchen top Chicken soup on a rainy day Bottle of champagne on days we needed to be reminded That we were alive. But it is days like this I miss you the most The days when the skies are blue And the rays of the sun caress my soul. On t...

They say at first you don't succeed you must pick yourself up and try again. it seems so simple put getting back up after life disappointments is quite an impossible task. In the beginning it feels like it is all fun and games. Life gives you playful shoves and you laugh it off. As time goes by the hits become harder and your laughter begins to fade. You put your hands up for mercy but life punches you in the face causing your eyes to bleed and your nose to shatter. After life gives you one last final blow your senses become heightened. Noises around you become deafening and the world begins to spin. You feel your heart pounding through your chest. You try to breathe but it seems impossible. You ask yourself will I be able to get up. You attempt to but the pain on your side knocks you down again. Maybe it would be better to lay down and admit defeat. You hear life laughing to the crowd and declaring victory. Against the noise you hear a faintest cry "Get Up'. You turn your...

While watching an episode of Spartacus: Blood and Sand i heard an interesting statement. the word proper was created to keep women in their place. A proper woman does not go after her desires, is not forceful nor aggressive. She is a proper lady, a nice and good girl. The problem with being a nice girl is people take advantage of you. Since you do not speak up, they assume they can treat you anyway. What happens is that people have a tendency to fuck you over. You continue to bend over for them as they tear the very essence of your being. All my life I've been good and what do i get in return, heartache. I've always loved the Bitch . The woman who goes after what she wants. she says what is on her mind and does not care about what others think. she is not the mean girl. She does not make your life a living hell. She gets things done and she just does not give a shit. people know not to mess with her. I was a Bitch as a child but i soften as the years went by. I've got to ...

There comes a point in girl's life when she has to make an important decision. Does she follow her heart and go with the road less traveled or does she take the path that has been paved for her? Her heart wants to go down the road full of ups and down,twists and turns. A road full of uncertainty, doubt and darkness. She believes that once she has taken this path it would lead to an adventure she was born to have. But she is frighten because it would not be an easy journey to take. She steps back and begins to follow her head leading her to a path of familiarity and certainty. She knows what the journey will be like and its an easier and safer journey. Is that what she wants? The life that so many others have lived? A life that is expected of her? Does she go the conventional route or does she go for the nontraditional? Is there a road that meets somewhere in the middle? Where she can follow her heart and listen to her head. Defeated she throws down the towel and follows her heart, ...

As the wind begins to howl and leaves begin to fall a recent college grad navigates her way through a busy city full of unfamiliar faces. Wondering if today will be the day that all the hours spent applying for jobs in the library instead enjoying the precious hours of the summer sun was not a complete waste of time. But every once in awhile she lets down her hair and forgets about the uncertainty of tomorrow and the mistakes she made yesterday. Ever once in awhile she chooses to focus on what life has to offer her today. Today she is happy who knows what tomorrow will bring.

I tried to deny it and hope that the emptiness will disappear. But behind every laugh, every smile and every embrace is nothing. No real emotion at all. I did not think it was possible but I feel so alone. There is no one to turn to. No one who really understands me or no one to be my crying shoulder. I am alone in a room with a million strangers. All of them passing me by and not caring for my existence. There are moments that I stumble and hit the person next to me. For a split second it feels like they are going to help, help me escape the fall to the pit of despair. But they don't. They just brush their shoulders and leave me to drown in the emptiness of the room. I am not sure if I will ever find someone who gets me. Am I destined to be alone in a crowded room?