the road

has so many bumps twists and turns. its all so lovely all so ugly sometimes its something that words just cant describe and thats ok. my writings dont do well with time, clocks, minutes and these sort of things. i cant plan when i will post something on here it just happens when it is supposed to happen. im going to be putting a lot more energy into my new book. i know i know it was supposed to be out last month but as i said my writings dont do well with time. this is book #2 and its entitled "bare." ive changed the title a billion times but this is it. i know because it looked in the mirror and named itself. its time to be completely comfortable being naked in front of myself. in front of you all. in front of the world. no fear nothing to hide. just me. bare bold and beautiful. if im away for a while this is why. im sure the urge will come over me to revisit this space and share with you all in between my seclusion.

let love be what it may.

oohmigee its 2010! lata suckas :P


my first book "beneath a black sun" can be viewed/purchased here:
http://www.lulu.com/content/557583

my thoughts decorate walls, bathroom stalls filled with more truth than classrooms....

[ .reminder of the day. ]

'Ishq Allah, Ma'bud Allah' (God is love, lover, and beloved).

...and the sand slips through the tightest grasp
the wind moans and carries much of nature to its destination
the world is a journey, the path must be walked
beautiful is the one drunk off the love of God
glorious is the one absent of ego and inflation
i find myself through knowing Him
there exists no knowledge without knowledge of self
soul before flesh
for flesh will rot away and bury its own body beneath the dirt
a mystery how much my heart can tolerate
since Love has become my way my way has become love
the ocean is endless
the waves, my blanket
it is cold yet it is so warm.

you are.

the most beautiful color
that has never existed
scattered magic too sacred to hold
love so potent it intimidates its reflection
an ocean of everything i never believed i'd find.
...amazing.

absence.

sparks of light peek through blinds given no color
my eyes can see,
though traces of you are blurry
and cluttered with all types of love and wondering
if it's possible
to carry too much passion
in hands already full of emptiness.

these foolish ideas
give me some type of strange comfort
holding my ribs at night
your favorite sweat shirt swallowing my small frame
'til your scent becomes my skin
all of this to make sense of the absence
the wind that beats against my lips
when the door opens and closes
off again you go
to make a living
id rather make a life
rather our limbs become tangled in sheets
rather see you sleep
twirl your curls with my finger
as the moon coats us in his glory.

there are
dandelions tucked beneath nails
the puffy kind that children make wishes on
counting hope on fingers
blowing dust into air
waiting for us to make magic
again.

i clench to all of you
when you go inside
my temple
my body
aches for your touch
yet sometimes, you become invisible
i become invisible
we become complex air,
an untraceable silhouette
is rarely missed.

my love, we have already found each other
perhaps it is time
to get lost within you
within me
within we.
perhaps.

GET IN TOUCH WITH THE INNER YOU....

the idea of ida.

"I will not begin at this late day by doing what my soul abhors; sugaring men, weak deceitful creatures, with flattery to retain them as escorts or to gratify a revenge."
-Ida B Wells

limbs of trees dance
barren fruit lean, veins bulging like pulp
bitter and hanging
until dropped
the limbs
of trees
dance-
swaying in stale air
of a place
once called home

is where the heart is but there is no heart
here,
how strange their movements
how selfish
the way we use
that which allows us to breathe
we come up
short
of breath
no one cradles air
too blinded to believe
in things intangible

where do you place dreams held hostage?
imagination and aspirations
in an opaque bubble
floating in a black sky
popped by someones pointer
finger
hands
move
with broken compasses as palms
no direction
just, piles of bricks put together
hollow holes for windows
black faces fill them
they look out
they look in
they wonder about tomorrow
and cry to the clouds
scream to a sorrowful sun
it storms-
children on all fours
searching for rainbows

a decaying gift for Ida
a bleeding bow
atop a pile of ashes
deserves no thank
you
deserve
no thank you.