you incite me to chorus

God's pulling me back in

2005-09-23T17:07:00.000-05:00

So everything happens for a reason. I've been trying to comprehend this past week's happenings but i couldn't. two years and a month ago my grandmother died. let me tell you how this happened. I lost my wallet. in it was everything valuable to me, and everything that makes me a functioning citizen in this world where money and identification rule. so i felt useless. I called my dad who wouldn't tell me he was at my grandmother's death bed, but helped me figure out what to do with the lost information, how to cancel credit cards, etc etc. so on that day i probably called or talked to him like 4 or 5 times in a row - when i normally would call him once a week or every other day or something of the sort.

The last time of the succession of calls, i asked how grandma was doing, he grew silent. I didn't press him but got off of the phone and carried on my way.

he called me back a little later to tell me he didn't want to tell me there, but while i was on the phone with him, she passed away.

further observation of the situation led me to rethink the events and see how God plans things to get you back in line with him, with family, with life. sometimes we get so caught up in the everyday things (here i am/was fretting about three exams and a quiz next week) that we forget the eternal things and the things not of this life, but the next. we think too much on the present and not on the everlasting future.

this epiphany led me to a spiritual awakening among other things, but i remember the series of events sheltered around the loss of a wallet and everything that makes me "something" or "someone" in this material world.

so when i got my wallet stolen this past monday i was like "ok God, what's happening, who's dying?" and it wasn't that someone around me was dying, it was my spiritual self that is/was dying. we are all dying everyday. I'm learning about how the 16th century poets wrote about time's diminishing qualities, and it's true. each day we walk further west (like in my sonnet), and further away from the day we were born, closer to our graves. and i'm learning that each day without God is a lonely existence. Of course, whoever stole my wallet got about 25 bucks in cash from me but thankfully realized that all of the credit cards would be cancelled (within an hour after i perceived it stolen)and debit cards rendered useless.

today i got a package in the mail. I was confused - it was from a Lutheran Church downtown. Someone stole my wallet, gutted it of its monetary value and threw it infront of a Church. The church sent it back to me. I got my wallet back at the "cost" of 25$ but with a value that is ineffable. God's got great ways of speaking to me in terms that he knows i'll listen. And he's learning to speak to me in patterns.

i'm listening. I hear You.

A sonnet and things

2005-09-14T20:20:00.000-05:00

first, here's something i wrote the other day. I've been so busy, that writing isn't easy for me as it once was, how sad. but i refuse to let my spark die. (of course, it's sad, would you expect anything else?)

sonnet 11798

What solemn steps, his tread through the streets, weaves
through valleys, shadows, death. He fears only
the morning journeys, the idle chatter
on stranger-lined pathways to hospital,
where he will wait judgment. Soon, his functions
will fade from flashes meant to cure, too soon.
I watch his steps with back towards the sun
rising. He stumbles. I wince, pray his legs
steady; call out to him in instinct. He
hears me not. In car I pass this man on
sidewalk, walking West. In him, I picture
Grandpa: his same processions in face mask.
I think to this man to change directions.
I know the consequences of this walk.

okay. so that was my sonnet in blank verse.

what else? I've been exercising a lot more lately. getting up at 6:30 each morning to run 1, 1.5 or 2 miles. i love coming back and taking a cold-ish shower. i love the feeling of accomplishment when i see my car and my house on the return. I also have grown a love affair with yoga. more for its stretching purposes than it's meditative purposes...i've found that the repetive slow motions work up a nice sweat, and then as you're warming up your muscles, you're stretching them at the same time and it's pretty nice.

i still dont like it here, in case you're wondering. i still want to go back to chapel hill where things seemed a little more simple.

okay. off to do some yoga, then reading then sleep. got 2 miles to conquer in the morning.

closing time

2005-09-03T19:55:00.000-05:00

that's the title (at least, i think) of this song that is sort of the theme for the way things look to me. like things are wrapping up, ready to transition to other places, other times. and i dont just mean with me. I mean with this world.

i cannot begin to comprehend what has happened to the peoples of the gulf coast. but i can remember a dream I had once, i woke up in a deep sweat, gasping for air, as if i had drowned. in my dream, i did. it was a really big, elaborate dream constructed by my REM and i guess a depiction of what my mind thought at that moment "the end" would be like. I've had more than one of these dreams, I should add. it's kind of weird, really.

anyways. back to the dream. so the dream has me starting on a beach with some friends. we're playing something. i go to change my bathing suit. come back out, dark clouds, thunder. and BAM! lightning flash and it's like a scene change. i'm standin in line with my friend (who is faceless, at least, i can't remember who i had in my dream with me) and we're holding hands, ankle-deep in water. then, another flash. scene change. we're all apologizing to each other. i realize i hadn't apologized to my friend (i can't even begin to imagine what i had done to warrant that) and so i walk up and before i open my mouth, she just simply says "it's okay, i forgive you, He forgives." then we're back in line walking deeper into the water, as if driven by some force beyond our control, only, i could have gotten away, but i was pre-occupied with the fact that my best friend couldn't swim and was walking out to sea. so another flash and we're wiped out by a big wave. a huge, wave. my friend doesn't survive the wave. it's just me and God and Satan. (i add satan in as i look back. i was fighting something in that water) i start praying, saying the Lord's prayer and each line it feels as if my body is getting heavier and heavier, but i'm determined to finish before i go under. i think this is how God is going to end the world. say Amen and sucuumb to the waters rushing into my lungs...then i wake up coughing and gasping for air.

and i mean, i look at the destruction all of the millions of gallons of water dumped into the gulf coast region, and i can't help to think that to them down there, someone's had this experience. I can only pray that they called out to God before they left. but it's kind of scary, having these dreams, seeing pieces of them come to fruition. seeing this one dream that i think has some bits and pieces of prophecy being fulfilled....that's a bit scary on my part, but i shall not reveal it just yet. i dont know. it seems as if maybe i have something greater than me within me, and i'm afraid of it. perhaps i am. maybe i'm just imagining everything, and nothing really exists but time, and we're just images that will fade away -

i hope to at least leave a good impression.

so yeh, this was a bit random, i just had to get my thoughts out on it all.

thoughts of the night

2005-08-30T22:38:00.000-05:00

i miss chapel hill

i am sad

i cried a little on sunday. i would say for no reason, but i know it all too well

i am overwhelmed with work already. too much work.
all work and no play makes lana also sad

i wish i could see you again.
i am sometimes deathly scared of death.

i pray for all of those who have suffered from natural (or Godly) disasters, like Katrina. the devastation is beyond my mind's comprehension - i dont want to know a loss like that. not yet.

i love you. yes, you.

Lemondays

2005-08-15T22:48:00.000-05:00

i've come to love mondays.

well, no, let me not say that. i hate mondays. the start of a new week - the fact that the weekend seems sooo far away in the distant.

anywho. i do love mondays because of the monday night blues open mic and poetry and music series here in charleston. (i'll share a little secret with you...i may be hosting the show very very soon! but don't tell. it's not confirmed just yet)

so. i go to it tonight. and there's this wonderful family of musicians. they are very hippie-ish, which is cool with me, very peaceful. reminded me of an older version of one of my friends from chapel hill....gosh, i do miss that place...anyways. and this lady, of course i dont remember her name because i could not hear her, did her poetry and then this kid on guitar blue me away and i just had to meet him, and hopefully i'll have a little more direction on my own guitar pursuits.

so there's this black couple that comes in - you could tell intimidated by the older/white crowd tonight (i admit, i was a bit at first) but came in to get coffee, and sat near me. the woman asked me what this was about, asked me if i would be performing poetry, i confirmed, she talked her husband into staying. the set ran a little long, and i didn't get up there until 10:15. i did "the water's fine" which has become a favorite of the monday night blues crowd...and a new piece i wrote that night for my best friend preston (i'll post) and then a relationship piece called "My Adam" which parallels a relationship to that of adam & eve (duh) and yeh....then i asked for requests. some of my "topics" are love, societal, anecdotal, and then like nature/obeservation-esque pieces. they requested love. i flipped it. i decided to do sacrificial love. love of family. did a piece i wrote with my grandmother in mind. i miss her. i was thinking of her earlier, and my aunt and my high school best friend who are all buried here in charleston. in a poem, i wrote/had an epiphany that it's funny how God pulled me back here, how i find myself unknowingly flocking here where Gloria and aunt Olive and grandma Griffin are buried. the poem, Letters of consolation for the grieving is 4 parts. in the second part, it says "...i've come to charleston/where i forget you laid to rest/homing pidgeon/ i flock to where i feel most loved."

and i do feel loved here. in some strange way, i feel energies from everyone i miss (dead, alive, far away) in the people i meet here. one of the musicians just came up to me and asked if she could just hug me because she felt so attracted to my vibes/positive energy. I guess i'm learning to give off what is given.

sorry this post is so random. so are my thoughts right now.

school starts in a week and i'm petrified of new beginnings (again).

here's the poem:

We are compliments

We were born for each other -
destined for our life-lines to mee,
hash marks on God’s canvas.
(such divine are we are)
We mesh well.

Our limbs inter-lock easy
like they were made to embrace
the way we do, perpetually,
as friends
lovers distant to keep embers
burning past hours of
late-night conversations.

Our words fit together
as puzzle pieces, I step away
to view the bigger picture:
minds in unison, I find
lost thoughts ready upon
your lips –

Surely
our garden expands
beyond places we’ve traveled together.
The paths we walk are unbridled
labyrinths; endless probabilities.

Please
meet me at the zenith
as it is planned.

slow down, literally

2005-08-13T11:10:00.000-05:00

i'm going to try and write everything at once tonight. a lot has been going on. i just got finished doing a yoga video that i bought today...on impulse. i decided it was something i've wanted to try, so i'm going to and that's that. kind of like life, i'm learning to go with impulses, because nothing is guaranteed.

i could have died last night. it's so surreal. so real. the fact that i would have died on an inconspicuous road down in georgia and none of my family would have known where i was, and i wouldn't have been able to tell anyone good-bye...and yeh. here's the scoop: i went down to georgia to visit my chapel hill friend and my best friend from high school for a couple of days. on my way back, it was raining, and i needed to stop to get gas. i changed lanes to the right lane as someone was changing lanes to the left lane immediately infront of me. I'm guessing the water they kicked up was not compatible to the direction my wheels were going (or that it was just a bad spot in the road) and my car began to hydroplane. you never really learn about how to handle a car in conditions like what i was in. anyways, so because i was slowing down for the exit, the car infront of me was gone, and by the grace of God, no one was behind me to be in the path of my car performing two pirouettes on the interstate before landing in the ditch on the right side of the road. i remember tryingt o get control of my car and counter it to keep me from going into the middle median, and perhaps onto oncoming traffic (there was no middle guard). i remember as the car was going towards the ditch, time slowed down...or maybe it feels like it slowed down now that i think about how that could have been the last sequence of my life. all i could do was press the breaks and hold the wheel and prayed out loudly to God not to let my car flip over. I envisioned it flipping two or three times. I even braced myself for the impact. but God had other plans - the ditch cradled me and my car safely. i couldn't move my car, but i was not bruised or hurt or anything. i thought to call 9-1-1. i couldn't even talk. luckily, in other acts of God's mercy and grace, at the same time of my dance down highway 20, a highway patrolman was coming in the opposite direction and another person both stopped to help me. i'm sure i probably looked like a deer caught in headlights. i was just hyperventillating - about to die in amazement that i didn't die. i just hung up with the 9-1-1 dispatcher (now that i think about it, it's kind of messed up they didn't call me back to see if i was all right) and the patrol guy assured me that i was going to be all right, that my car didn't look too badly bruised and he had a state patroller and a wrecker on the way to dig me out.

so. i had to call my dad. who, an hour and a half before totalled his car - man. Satan was really out to get my family yesterday. i was scared he'd be mad about my vacation (although i'm grown, i usually do tell him when i leave to go somewhere)...and more scared about my accident. he was just glad i was all right. then i called preston. who i probably scared just from the phone call. while i was waiting and thinking about how my life almost ended one of my best friends from chapel hill called me - Jamie - who spent the summer in South Africa...my sister in Christ. perfect timing.

so. i think i see my near death experience as God's way of speaking to me. You know how they say he speaks in terms so that we'll listen? well, i think he speaks to me in terms of death. i had to almost die to get back on track and back in line with my purpose...and caring more about him and myself than a lot of other things i've been focusing on lately, and shouldn't. just the fact that i felt my car on two wheels and it could have easily flipped over...or any of the conditions could have been different - it could have been a cliff instead of a shallow ditch. the trees could have been right there. there coudl have been a barrier up and i could have wrapped my car around the metal pole like a tortilla shell...i could have been ejected from the car and landed on my back and that could have been the end of that.

all i can say is - thank God for second (and third and fourth and, well, numerous undeserved) chances. Thank God for having something greater and more for me to accomplish here that you decided not to take me away last night...and thank you for your messages - even the ones that may hurt us or scare us...and for the ability to listen and heed.

the lesson: slow down (literally), and take it all in. life's not long enough to make too many mistakes...but sometimes, if you need more time to complete your purpose and tasks, i think God will throw in a little grace.

finally feels like home

2005-08-06T21:41:00.000-05:00

so i moved into this place july 31...out on james island, which i've come to like i must say (outside of the commute to both places i work, which sort of sucks). it took me until friday to get the mattress to my futon/bed, which was crazy...but now it finally feels like i live somewhere, like i have some place i can call home.

now...if i could get my act/life together from here, i'd be good to go.

for the record: i'm still really scared to start school in the fall.

here goes

2005-07-27T10:01:00.000-05:00

So.

Just got out of a realllyyyyy hot bath - used as a muscle relaxer. Working 60ish hours a week aint no joke!

anyways, back to the purpose of this blog.

Yesterday was my feature at Monday Night Blues. May I just say that Charleston's literary scene has embraced me like none other, and as far as my art and writing life is concerned, I think I definitely chose the right place to be.

This poet guy, marcus, is in charge of Charleston's poet's webpage . He has been so graciously helping me get acclimated to the area, we have poetic rap sessions, and he will be the one to help me design Sage in the upcoming month (Look for a late September or Oct 31 release!). Anyways, so they hype me up, which is cool...telling everyone that i'm the "most talented, beautiful poet to grace the local poetry scene in a while." *blushes*.

Anyways. If you're interested, or know any of the poems, here's the set list. It was divided into two sections. I think I did somewhere near a full hour of just pure delana entertainment:

set moja (one, in swahili).

Back where I come from

My dream for the misbegotten

These hands

Teaching to fish

A meeting

Letters of consolation for the grieving, (pts I & II)

Vicious Cycles

Set mbili (two, in swahili)

Poetic Rhapsody

The water’s fine

Reality TV (behind the scenes)

Nightmares

Connectivity

To my grandmother

Yellow rose

Israelites

So, again, if you know many of my pieces, you'll know that a lot of these are 1) from my book, Sage and 2) Written on a page.
I tried to give a nice even mix of written and memorized pieces, but then I realized as i was performing that the first set was heavily written, where as the second, only the last two pieces were read from the page.

The performance of it all, however, i must say (and this is the part where i brush my own shoulders off) was pretty flawless. The room of about 30-40 people (at max, people of course, coming in and out) was totally silent, like, i could hear EVERYTHING goin on around me. Usually, if the poetry isn't too interesting, or the music, people will be at their tables chatting, or doing something. I looked around and saw everyone was just fixed on me. It made me wonder if they were just gazing out of boredom - i wondered if my set was too long. Ellie - the organizer, and person who scooped me up - said it was perfect. That i was phenomonal. lol, so i know this just may sound like i'm just tooting my own horn, but i guess it's sort of exciting to me, really. Like, this is part of the reason i came down here, to get my career off on the right foot, and there you have it.

the best part? working at a coffee shop, and seeing some people come in the next morning and sit down and talk to you about your work, and its impact, and i think it's wonderful to be able to connect with people who you would never connect to on any other level. He said he was a financial banker (older, white guy) and that he was "never exposed to those kind of things, but decided to check them out, to give him a chance to expand his mind" and said that i "raised the bar, and blew him out of the water." then we just talked about some of the subject matter i raised - single parenting (poems - to my grandmother, vicious cycles), charleston segregation (the water's fine) to just how he talked to one of the more respected poets who he said had the misforturne of reading right after me, and he was like he was still mesmerized and impressed by my work (both the poet and the guy) that he didn't feel right reading. (ironically, i remember, that's when the talking started back up again).

it was also cool to see some people in the audience that were moved by my open mic performances, and i told them about my feature, (and they're not regular attendees) and they showed up.

anyways. I'm excited. I'm starting a yahoo group as a mailing list-of-sorts to keep incontact with my audience members (and people i know) who will be interested in buying a book (or ten) and attending my book signing, i want to be able to keep in contact with them.

book signing: Ellie Davis demands I do a book signing. I wasn't going to push the issue, being that 1/2 of the stuff i read monday night (or have read at all at the open mics) have been pieces from Sage. So i didn't want it to be a repeat of Monday night, but then again, I guess I would like for people to become familiar with my work, have "favorites", make requests. Who knows. More details on that special night later (and Stacy, you BETTER not have excuses for that!).

Anyone want to feature a young, budding poet, let a sista know. As long as you're within driving distance, we're good.

here's to the writing life.

nothing left to say

2005-07-22T20:53:00.000-05:00

so i've been frequenting my blog numerous times, trying to figure out exactly what to say as to what's been going on in my life since i last left you all a message.

i'm still at a loss for words. Life for me is getting a bit difficult, harder as each day goes on, and i realize the impact every single decision has on your life. Then i think about religion, and the idea that God has a plan for everyone, and I wonder if he planned for such events to go on, and their outcome, and my response....then I think about Free Will, and I just get confused - almost to tears - that i cannot make sense of anything going on in my life.

but, one thing's for sure - i can stand in awe still, at the beauty of some of it. (very random, but the moon was gorgeous last nite)

beautiful surprise, beautiful struggle

2005-07-10T13:33:00.000-05:00

so this weekend (beginning thursday, as i had thurs-saturday off) was pretty good. I had orientation, so I'm officially a college of charleston student. Wow, this summer is almost over, isn't it? I got my ID card, my schedule...declared my major (officially...and it's not history anymore) and yeh.

then friday two really great friends from chapel hill came down for the weekend to visit me. Vanessa and Warren. And i'm soo thankful they did. But i think when it was time to leave, I felt a little sad.Leaving chapel hill wasn't that hard - i was busy with RA stuff, checking residents out, people busy with exams and such that you dont have time to muse over the reality and finality of things. then it just sort of washed over me that i wont see them as often anymore.

i have to say that i didn't really expect anyone from chapel hill to visit me - i mean, it's a 5 hour drive. i sort of expected to dissipate into the state of south carolina, chapel hill barely even knowing i was there. so when they said they were coming, i immediately got happy. I mean, here, i dont know anyone past the few guys i've met, and the people i work with - but it's not a relationship where you want to hang out after work hours, you know? so i'm pretty lonely most of the time - working on poetry, reading books, sleeping, working 50 billion hours a week only to give it to my landlord at the end of the month. life is hard. i wondered for a while if i was depressed. i look at how happy and at home i was this weekend while they were here...and i realize i havent found a niche here, and it'll be hard, starting in the middle: in medias res. it sort of made me realize that perhaps i had a niche at chapel hill, i just didn't take advantage of it.

so what do i do for these next two years? how will things turn out? a part of me just wants to finish school, not make any commitments, if i meet people, it happens, if not oh well. i can suck it up for two years then be on my way. but i guess i would at least like to be happy for a little while, for once.

in other news: yeh...my two year time-limit for publishing (other than going the self-publishing route) seems to be more realistic the more i think about query letters and such. and even worse, a lot of people are looking for "poetic dedication" shown through a large publishing curriculum vitae and well, i was published in a high school lit mag, but that i doubt counts as much.

anyways. i have the rest of the day/evening off. who knows what i'll get into.

2005-07-02T22:55:00.001-05:00

smile again. i think i really like this picture.

2005-07-02T22:55:00.000-05:00

dunno how i feel about that picture...i sort of like my eyes, that's about all i have to say.

2005-07-02T22:54:00.001-05:00

smile :)

2005-07-02T22:54:00.000-05:00

i sort of like side pictures when i'm not smiling and not looking into the camera. is that bad?

2005-07-02T22:53:00.000-05:00

wanted to see the length of my hair

how can i give you the benefit

2005-06-30T01:39:00.000-05:00

when all i have is doubt?

alana davis.

so i haven't written in a while - well, a couple of days. i've been busy busy working at Port City Java as a coffee barista (i swear that has to have been my dream job for a while, and i'm finally doing it!) and Gap. I've also been keeping company of this new guy i met. i'm not sure where it's going, just sort of enjoying the company for a while. is that bad? am i using him?

or am i being used? okay i dont want to think about it anymore.

nothing else is really going on. just performing weekly at open mics, haven't written anything lately either. i think that speaks to my new occupation, and as to why i need to get that under control, yanno? i've got dreams. i can't be swept away.

slowly dying

2005-06-16T21:51:00.000-05:00

no musical line tonight -
i dont even have the time to enjoy or listen to music anymore.

i guess, the moral of the story is...patience is key. sit back and watch God work, stop trying to undermine Him and try to figure him out, and sometimes backup plans aren't always the best thing. backup plans are a sign that you dont trust, dont have faith...are scared of failing.

and i am. i admit it. i remember junior year of high school when i mentally broke down. 3 ap classes 5 other classes, newspaper, track and field, work, student council.....not getting home until 11 pm, having to do 7 classes worth of homework (the 8th to be completed in class that morning.)....only to go to bed, wake up at 6:30 am and do it all over again. i remember just breaking down. i look back and call that period of my life when i committed academic and mental suicide. and i remember promising myself i would not ever do it again.

and here i am again. upset that the college of charleston will most definitely cost me equally or more than chapel hill. i have managed somehow to get four jobs...(and an interview on tuesday that i guess now i need to get out of)....and already my body is yelling at me. i dont know if i can take it. part of it is pride. i could just accept the loans, and pay for my housing and not have to work 30-40 hours a week while in school (not to mention having to take 15 hours every semester, and maintain a 3.0). but then where will that get me? when people ask why i left chapel hill, i was sure that coming back in state would be better financially for me. who knew it'd be signing over my death certificate, or signing over more loans that i would even think of doing for chapel hill?

and all of this has me thinking. the value of it all. the actual purpose of education, the purpose of securing these jobs to be "financially stable" in a life that is sure to end. like, if one thing's for sure, i know i'm going to die and leave all of this behind. and the way things are going, it makes me wonder if it's sooner than i think. like the way nothing in my life has ever been permanent for me. i'm just a constant drifter, trying to find some anchor to weigh me down. and i haven't found it. i'm just slowly drifting away to what seems like a meaningless existance.

but then that denies God's greatness in my life. i'm torn. i'm always trying to please - hate saying no, can't say no. i hate disappointing people, causing people to stress. i wish i could do this all on my own. not fully on my own, but my dad's not healthy enough to support me. we're no where near independently wealthy...and other family members (even people who aren't in the family - because they know my dad has the same weakness i have: saying no) are sucking him dry, and i dont want to be another notch on his belt.

i wonder if i interpreted God's will wrongly? was this another selfish act on my part? what in the hell is going on....and can i just crawl into a corner and wake up and everything's different.

but no, that only happens in the television shows and movies that we make up to make people feel better or worse about their lives.

right now, i'm already feeling as if a train has run me over and kept going as if nothing is caught within it's wheels....and i'm just continuing to be grinded into a fine dust.

love's ultimatum

2005-06-14T01:10:00.000-05:00

Love’s ultimatum

I bet it must have torn at your heart –
leaving the house you protected when
your father left, making promises never
to forsake blood the way he left you all
as scabs, forgotten scars on his life.
I know you watched over grandma,
until it was time to harvest your own field.
Daddy, you didn’t reap what you sowed,
planted love, protection, in effort to salvage,
connect. What resulted:
too short trips to your homeland,
Charleston, paying homage to your mother,
city you loved, through distant phone calls
and faint whispers of “I love you, too” I heard
you at night to grandma long after mama
retired to her throne. I know you made
promises, and concessions, daddy,
but I would have loved to see grandma
a little more. Mama never wanted to understand
this separation – the way a child spoiled
is unrelenting in anything other than
getting her way. You said vows in her church,
lived under her roof and relocated, regenerated
your roots in a city foreign to you. I never
really saw it as home, did you?
And your children, would see grandma
occasionally. We grew an unfair bias
against her, never really knew her,
wish we did when she was gone. Daddy,
I wouldn’t have minded going to Charleston
a little more, hearing more of her stories.
I know mama held you to your promises,
and you vowed never to become your father,
but I know it must have hurt to leave
your family, start a new one.
Daddy, I’m sorry I helped
make this hard on you;
made you choose.

at least

2005-06-13T21:44:00.000-05:00

at least, i met a cool girl tonight.

that's about the only positive thing i can say about Charleston right now.

broken

2005-06-12T20:57:00.000-05:00

Broken

I always got the hand-me-downs
from my older sister; made treasure
from her disregard, felt it was all
I’d ever get: second-hand wishes
and throw away gifts – the things
not pleasing to her eyes. I hope
I have not become your secondhand
gift; one taste of me deemed unworthy.
I cannot help my being used before,
set aside after losing value. I pray
you find part of me worthy; hidden
secret treasure, search beyond
my surface wounds for value.
My exoskeleton marked with graffiti
reveals life-scars, pure tender heart.
Peel away the layers, watch me molt,
accept this bare, broken sacrament
of myself I offer. In the end, it’s all
I’ve left to give.

rainbows

2005-06-12T20:53:00.000-05:00

so I've seen many a rainbows in my time, i must say, i've been blessed to witness the way light reflects off of the clouds after a storm. Althouh I did not see a literal rainbow, I'm a true believer that these past couple of days, and how i've dealt with them have been a true tempest, and i've weathered it, and yeh...God's great on keeping to his promises - much more than i can say I am. but i'm human and fallible and able to admit such things.

I'm also realizing i cannot do everything on my own. Even the most independent souls have some dependency and I've got to get off of my high horse and learn to ask and accept help when it's given.

i'm thankful for the people that God's put in my life, even if for a moment...even if their only purpose is to appear for a mear nanosecond and ensure me that everything's okay, and reiterate God's greatness in my life. They may disappear, and I'm sure i'll miss their absence, but their imprint on my life will last as long as i live, maybe more.

as of late i'm really pursuing the progress of my book. Right now i have 30 8X11 pgs. Which means resized and add in pages for table of contents and a bio page and pages for each section that i separate and epigraphs and such, it's probably nearer the end of 40. I would like to have 60-80 pgs at least - a real book length, not chapbook edition of Sage. I keep reiterating that i'm not rushing it, but really working towards getting it somewhere to be published. I'm realizing the reality of a real big publisher picking it up may be a little far-fetched for me right now. We must all start small, and in all honesty, i'm not sure if my life experiences can support something of a caliber as some of these famous poets that i know and revere, but rest assured I will strive to get to that point. It's in my cards, in the hand i've been dealt. sometimes you have to save the best for last to make sure you win, (like in spades) even if it means losing the king this round, that i may have counted on for a win, some other works in the cosmos will allow other cards to slide through my hands, and take the books, and the joker later on i have stashed away for rainy daze will take the book and give me a win.

this i know for certain.

thanks

2005-06-10T21:46:00.000-05:00

thanks to everyone who let me just rant today....and get some pent-up emotions out. it means a lot.

in other news, crying for an hour straight can exhaust you. i think i may be peacing out soon. nite all.

it is what it is

2005-06-10T01:53:00.000-05:00

so the bad thing i've noted about being called a "narrative" poet is that people think every poem is an anecdote. and while a LOT of poems are....some are just imaginings...picturing scenarios, and thinking up outcomes.

tonight at barnes and noble (after retrieving my car from the towing fantasy land...out on upper-upper meeting street) i overheard a preacher-guy-turned-couples-counselor telling about a woman's place (and man's place he was sure to also iterate) in marraige, how it was fated ever since Adam gave his rib to Eve long long ago.

so that concept was stuck in my head all night, and i was determined not to go to bed until i wrote something. this was in first person, then i thought about all of my christian friends and how they'd probably gasp at the content, (lol although i just killed that by acknowledging that it was originally in first person)....but it is what it is. it's a poem. nothing more, nothing less. something i know someone out there in the cosmos can relate to. here goes:

Her Adam

She saw you lying there in peaceful
slumber. Shall not disturb, just
observe your shallow breaths –
try to match the concave, convex
of your chest, unnatural rhythms to her,
your breathing. She pictures you the day
you were made, molded from the dust
you laid on as lovers. Shapes sand in your
image next to you, where she would be
were things different.

How selflessly you gave your rib
so she could join you in paradise. How
you forget you were made to last eternal
lifetimes, this peaceful existence shared.
No, she shall not wake you for fear of ruining
what you have. She watches you sleep on your
linen sheets turned dust in her mind, once
wrapped around as protection from
Omnipotent Eyes. Her intentions were not
to corrupt – possessing fruits
you could not resist.

How she wishes them back now as you
slipped away from bliss, wonder what could
have been.

And who would guess
how easy your fall from grace?

live to love life

2005-06-10T01:21:00.000-05:00

i'm learning everyday that my dreams are not easily obtainable. and that's okay, everyday it gives me something to live for. i pick up a pen sometimes and just scribble meaningless words on a page, sometimes i come up with something worth showing others, and other times i draw a blank. this is the writing life. not always fruitful.

sometimes i wonder if i have enough life experiences to be the writer i want to be. i've yet to really love someone. you can only write about the death of loved ones so many times before it becomes trite to your readers (i'm sure people are like, ok...enough about your grandmother, and grandfather, and aunt and best friend)...and to write about race and history of african americans seems...predictable with me being a black woman

so where to then? religion? i've touched on that before, and i dont think i know enough about that to write more than surface-level-what-you-learn-in-bible-study topics...

i guess this writing life is about living....and living to love life, then turning it into art, into poetry, into music. i'm trying to write about things i haven't, and wont let myself experience becasue i'm closing myself up trying to write about them. such a vicious cycle.

this of course, slows the production of my book, Sage. How i wish it done before the end of the summer, but i dont want to rush it. I want it to be grand and marvelous and everything everyone who has ever supported my writing wanted it to be and more. I'm considering short essays to throw into the mix, but i dont know. perhaps that's a sell-out move for someone who can't think of poems, of metaphors, of beauty in life. i can't possibly have written about it all, but i dont know how to say differently what others have said. the comfort of not being well-read in poetry is that i dont know what's out there...once i get out of the ignorance-is-bliss i learn that we all have a lot of similar life experiences, and what i think i'm battling alone and that should belong in a poem, someone more famous than me has already captured so wondrously in a poem that is already on barnes and noble's shelves.

i dont know if i want to be a famous poet. i just want something that people can relate to, will want to come back to, will want to sit down with a cup of coffee and delve into my works of art, which are pieces of myself, parts of my life and suffering and living and learning and loving.

lazy daze

2005-06-08T22:23:00.000-05:00

so today i slept in until about 12ish, then got up made some coffee and an english muffin for breakfast...er...lunch...and waited around until my phone interview for the Body Shop. It went well, I have to say. Funny, i slipped in the word "crap"...i wonder how that will affect me.

regardless, i was myself, which i'm learning is a lot more funner (i know, not a word) than who i was when partially depressed and lonely. I'm learning i crave interaction with people, i love conversation, and even though i can seem like such the introvert, put me in the right situation with the right energy and i'm golden.

so after the interview i played around on the compy...meaningless google searches in an attempt to find something to do/occupy space and time. then i opted to do my hair, which is a 2-3 hour commitment once started...today i did it in about 2 and some change...and my roommie scored me a bottle of red wine, i had a cup and some cheese (you'd think this was lifestyles of the rich and famous)...and watched a lil TV while the roommie prepared a wonderful dish of stuffed green peppers (altered the ingredients to adhere to my no red-meat-eating policy) and sourdough rolls....then i was off to meet up with marcus for a session of poetry rapping, which is always fun....then i came back and it was only 9something and i was not about to wast away the rest of the night in my house, so i went to barnes and noble and picked up a poetry book and read it - Sharon Olds - and got some ideas/inspiration for some new poetry.

this is how i wish life was like...all the time. maybe one day. sipping wine, reading, sharing poetry/intimacies of one's soul....enjoying the world God gave us.