Be Right Back

I know that I haven't made blog rounds yet, nor have I updated here, but I haven't shaken the spot just yet. I have a lot of irons in the fire because I'm grinding, baby! Give me a minute and I'll bring it right back. Writing has always been my first love. You know how it is...breaks are needed to find new muses and sources of inspiration. Writing without inspiration is like making love to your hand. Yeah, it gets the job done, but there's nothing like sweetly welcoming him into the inner most chambers of your euphoric oasis. There's no physical merger deeper than having someone inside of you. Can't get any closer than that...

That being said...I'll holla in a bit

*muchos besos*

I say I want to get married again. I know that I am a really good woman and could make just about any man happy. Not bragging, just stating what I perceive to be the truth as believed by me. The thing is that I am starting to lose hope in the entire institution of marriage. Most people are full of sh*t, both men and women. Not all women are looking for a sugar daddy or Captain Save a Hoe. Yes, I am a single mother, but I am not looking for a ‘daddy’ for my children. They have one of those, and though we don’t get along, I thank God that my sons do have a relationship with their father. I am independent, but I dare not say that I do not need a man. I don’t need one to support me financially, but it would be really nice to have one that supported me emotionally and backed me when it came to living out my dreams, no matter how off beat they may be.

I guess I am slowly starting to lose my hope in marriage because of what I don’t see on a daily basis. I work with a ton of men, and we talk about sex, love, life, relationships, families, and everything else in between, but what I don’t see is them lighting up or even smiling when they mention their wives. I have yet to meet a married man that I couldn’t bed, which really disheartens me. I know that I have a sexual aura about me because I am a very sensual woman, but I want to meet just one married man that can see that I am attractive, yet never make a pass at me because he knows and lets it be known that his wife is the business, and that in his eyes no other woman holds a candle to her.

I guess what I am looking for just doesn’t exist. I want to marry my best friend. That one that I can laugh and joke with, be silly, goofy and nerdy in front of, share my innermost fears, hopes, dreams, and aspirations with, debate with, disagree with, get mad at, yet still lay down every night knowing that I have the assurance of lying next to my very best friend…and a mind blowing sex life would be the icing on the cake. I love Black men and think that they are la crème de la crème, but I want to meet just one that defies all the stereotypes about Black men and relationships. I know it’s hard to get off the freak train, open up emotionally, and lay your pride to the side in order for the one that truly loves you to help you…but isn’t it worth it if this means living a richer life than you could ever achieve alone, or with one that doesn’t challenge you to reach your full potential?

Random Thoughts

Typing the thoughts as they come…

I am feeling some kind of way. Like a ball of passion, lust, and boredom, coupled with morals and the need for a good healthy debate which all lead to me being a big mass of frustration.

I try to keep most of my thoughts to myself, because if some of the people I know knew what really goes on in my mind, I would be all kinds of names. I wear my sentiments on my face, though.

I love words. I write because I am not all that great at relaying what I feel verbally. I feel things vividly and intensely, therefore I write. I am a woman of few words unless engaged in playful banter or debates. I am usually never what people expect me to be. I love hard. Yes, I do. I love deeply.

My vice is lust. We all have a drug of choice or thorn in the side. I think Lust lusts after me and pursues me with reckless abandon. I try my hardest to be good, to keep my sensual self to myself, and it never fails, someone comes along and ignorantly begins to play around with the fire that is my mind. I should come with a warning sign: Owner of the body housing this mind is not held accountable for your pending addiction. I know that I am highly addictive. By no means am I being arrogant or haughty. I don’t mean to be addictive.

This causes me to wonder what kind of women my sons will run across in their lives. I want them to have women like me, but I also know what women like me are capable of if not handled properly.

I think women should be more confident. It’s uber sexy. And stop making it so easy for men. Yes, we know that it doesn’t take candy, flowers, and a bunch of other material possessions to get into our panties because 9 times out of 10 we already have it in our minds whether or not he will be feasting at our tables anyway, but whatever happened to a nice hearty helping of mental jousting and stimulation? That’s far more erotic to me than saying or doing anything sexual.

When I was married I thought that single women were the devil. (Not really). Now that I am single I know how to be a better married woman. Weird how life throws you curve balls, making you walk in the very same shoes you once despised.

My Muse

She left me. I miss her.

I can still taste the complexness of Merlot on her lips from the last time she placed her ruby red kisses on mine. At night after showering she would lay next to me, play in my hair, and fondle my breasts. Our playful giggles manifested into the most erotic, heated, and creative love making sessions known to man.

Her passion was as powerful and magnetic as watching a ribbon lightening display across the sky. She made love to every part of me, flowing in out and throughout the entire entity of me. Her raw emotions penetrated the core of me, producing mind and body quaking orgasms that left me faded and high for days. I am addicted to her. I need her. I crave her.

Wait...is that her I see in the distance sexily strutting up to me? Hinting eyes, full breasts, round hips, thick thighs

My muse has returned to me...but for how long?

This Love Right Here

I find myself no longer worrying if my ass is too big, hips too wide, belly too pudgy, breasts too buxom

I don’t wonder if I’ll have to relive the hurt, hide my true goofy, witty, nerdy self, or if I’m smart enough, good enough, or proper enough

Rather I find myself laughing for no reason at all, smiling like some deranged woman out of touch with reality, and going to bed with this childlike innocent grin in my heart and my soul frolicking in the emerald green grasses of rebirth

I hold my head high, care not about the world’s opinions of my unconventional self, smile and shake my head at those that come against me followed by a deep and hearty “hmpff” as I strut off and roll these wide hips, phat ass, and thick thighs

Honey I haven’t a care in the world because I have a God sent man that loves me beyond my faults and through my fears

He inspires me to be the best me that I can be all the while loving everything about me from my naturally beautiful wavy locks, sapphire heart, all the way down to the high arches of my feet

Yes, I am loved indeed. I guess I have never really loved or been loved before because it sure as hell didn’t feel like this

Because this love right here...yeah, this love is fiyah

An Ode to You...Our Brothers

Thank you

For understanding that we are not bitches because we are assertive
And that we are not weak because we crave your sweet kisses

For working to provide for us
And for appreciating the safe havens we provide for you in return

For taking the time out to discipline the children we created
And showing them the irreplaceable love of a father, even if they don’t share your DNA

For your love that comforts and heals us
Of the hurt caused by the ones that made us cry

For realizing that our hair is our glory
And for getting overexcited if you let you pull it while…

For appreciating the phatness of our asses and width of our hips
It brings out our fierceness when we catch you peeping

For banging our backs out
Like only you can

For making tender passionate love to us
Like only you can

For creating a want in us
That only you can fill

For satisfying a need in us
That only you can feel

You are many things to us, but above all, you are love. Love…suffers long,
is kind, does not envy, does not parade itself, is not puffed up, does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil, does not rejoice in iniquity, rejoices in the truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, and with us by your side you’ll never fail.

Storm Dreams

Lines in black - Sojourner G
Lines in pink - Queen of my Castle

Sometimes memories of you
Overtake me as a tidal wave assaults a lonely island’s palm
That wraps its roots around subterranean rock deep
And hangs on for dear life
Until the storm passes

Sometimes daydreams of you
Drift over me as a delicate mist seducing a flower
That freely opens its petals
Allowing small tear-shaped droplets to form
And glide down its stem

The hurricane force wind gusts
Carry the screams of your passion
Drenching my trunk
With the salty sweet spray of moisture
Dredged deep from your limitless reservoir

The soft spring breeze
Delivers the moans of your pleasure
Filling my stigma
With the pollen of your anther
Sweetly released from your endless reservoir

And it’s all I can do
To breathe through my screams
And panicked state of mind
Hoping to survive your onslaught
Or die happy

And all I can do
Is pant through my moans
And blossomed state of mind
Hoping this love rain will last forever
Or leave a gentle kiss upon my petal

*We never finished this piece*