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Alive, I am.

Another poem about niggas

It didn’t matter how much I knew; I couldn’t find a way to remain with you.

Understood.

Miss

Charity, will you let me in?

Hold on be strong,

he is not gone.

I never shut the door on you.

Was told to always welcome this view.

How can you mend a broken heart in the dark?

Trust.

Mirror Mirror

What do you see?

Why is it that these niggas only want certain pieces of me?

Why is it that I only want what doesn’t know how to value me?

How am I going to go on, I need an ounce of hope, something that will show me that I am worth so much more.

It pains me to know that for now, he can’t be around. His actions are too dangerous for my heart, vulnerable, he will rip me apart. What’s worse, I’ll oblige because very rarely do men make me smile. This game we are playing, no one wins in the end.

It pains me, severely. Why don’t you let your body feel these things?

How many men will I have to tell no, before I can say yes, mind, body, and soul.

I don’t want what’s good for me, and its hard to withhold, because so much is painful. Any ounce of pleasure leaves my pupils dilated and my mind penetrated, the thought of something pleasurable seems to evade me.

I don’t even have much hope for my soul, romantically it seems that I am a tragic comedy. Helplessly falling for these ungrateful sheep. Enola, why didn’t you warn me? Does anyone that I want truly desire me, and is capable of fully embracing?

These games we play, they aren’t for the faint.

Til the next time, I pray that I can remain

I love the parts of me that have been neglected.

The romantic recipient of a love so deeply entrenched that in certain moments we can’t bare how intense it is.

We reach climax at the thought of embrace

Will we accept our fate?

Are you the one?

That somebody that I’ve been envisioning this whole time?

My minds eye says no and I at times give up hope when I hear it like so

Perhaps you’re not the one

Maybe you’re two, a piece of me is nested within you

A treasure awaits us, if only we would allow love to takeover us

What is the One?

The person embodying time and space meant explicitly for me? Is that what we are truly saying? Is anything designed in such a way? And how can we ever truly say...

I wait for truth, she brings with her a crew of conviction and then finally healthy dependence

I want certainty

To be certain that we are becoming so intertwined with me. At times I lose sight of the space between. I want you to hold me, in a way that I fear you’re too cold to embrace. Why won’t you accept your ways? You exhaust me and yet here I remain.

My mind is air

My heart is fire

The two vibe with one another and create what I presume is desire

His mind is wild, yet his grip remains ahold

All my senses

Mind, body and I pray to god not soul

You caress me in the midnight hours

Ask to make love until the sun comes up

Then devour every ounce while singing praises of this flower’s power

Yet I cower away from what really gets me to sway

You see, the key to me isn’t physicality, it’s a part of me that feels full when he

Casts a glance with a half formed smile

Whispers that he wants me and grips me til I’m so gone

It’s my mind and how it races yet I can tell that you’re in the same sprint

We act only on instinct

and it’s driving me near insanity

What is this power you hold over me?

The Bridge, Again

Hello dearly beloved,

I write this with humble beginnings in sight. My poetry knows no physical form, my imagination remains unseen. As I venture into the thick of mid twenties value and honor steadily shift to the forefront. Whom am I to be, and where am I in relation to that reality? I am struggling to articulate my thoughts fully thesw days. Each word is ruthlessly interrogating into damn near paralysis. I push, with hopes of magic generating...with hopes of something making sense internally as I feel the world within and around spiraling into new orbits. Or maybe this is the same orbit but an ellipse where in my perception of time and space are utterly different from what I have seen before. This is a bend in reality, is it not? Does any of this even make sense? I mull tirelessly over ideas, connecting what is seemingly unrelated. My eyes grow weary, my heart grows heavy as I feel it drumming against my breast. Where is the rest? I want to keep this blog. It’s important, I won’t give up on this younger version of self...her dreams were wild and unseen but still valid in the present. I shall return here, with predictable frequency, and we will venture our internal terrains together. Join me as we hold and encourage each other through soul and spirit. With the upmost love, respect, and sincere at at your courage...the lioness.

Hello 18 from 23

It’s an odd feeling seeing yourself through your own words. Perhaps this is a more accurate reflection than old photos. For a while, I resented having written what I presumed to be childish babble talk in an underaged drunken stupor. But, at 23 years old and nearing 24 I am finally seeing the immense value in this blog space. My emotions run high, much like they did at 18. But, if I am being honest I love this Charity. She is messy but she is honest, and I like that. Some of what she said holds so much raw truth that still stands relevant to this day. And the self-portraits, I never knew how important it was but now I truly want to explore this medium of self-expression. It took me a while to come back, but now I am grateful for what I have written.

Post 7

I was asked today: What do I think about gender in society and pop culture? Well, in laymen terms, pop culture is fucking us kids ALL THE WAY UP. I can’t log onto social media without some teenage child girl with a freakishly awk body i.e displaced boobs courtesy of your local victoria secret, cleavage beyond imagination and side touches that could be the root of a new pandemic of scoliosis of the back. Males are just as guilty as well, if my eyes are subject to one more mirror picture of undeveloped abs due to the mere skinniness of these manchildren I will flag for review every male mirror pic selfie that I must witness. I WILL DO IT. I am trying to save you poor souls. The definition of your abs (which by the way resemble the bodies of starving children of undeveloped third world countries) does not in any shape or form determine your level of sexiness or appeal; in fact it takes away from it (there’s levels to this shit). You kids post pics that practically unwrap the gift before you’re parents have even had a chance to put the dern Christmas tree up! There’s a point here I promise. Amongst this rant there is a lesson or rather realization about our generation, and here it is: we dwell in a generation that capitalizes on time. It is as if we have lost all sense of it, and with this senselessness we have created an impenetrable lost and (never) found. Consumed with the “adult” fantasy kids are prematurely morphing into adults instead of butterflying into sages. As we continuously try to pass time we skip over the teensy weensy marvels of youth, the milestone eureka moments that propel our “affirmed” beliefs on a constant rotation of spirituality, individualism, and absolute lunacy. Our generation has become desensitized to the miracle of awkward adolescence. Innocent middle school dances fade as twelve-year olds find them selves displaced at “high school” parties ultimately run by teenagers not more than two years their senior, high school girls find their freshly pedicured toes in heels purchased by mother on their way to an 18 and up club, the trend continues. Until there is “nothing” left. Experience is no longer needed and here beckons a life of unfulfilled joy and an ever evading sense of peace. There MUST be an end to this cyclic process. Why not dwell in every moment possible. Linger in every moment and savor in every inch of introspective growth. Live you youngins, this is the key to forever young. Rushing to every milestone from 16 to 18 to 21…then what? Let every day be the milestone of life that we cannot wait to reach. Maybe then the kids can finally be kids and mirror pics will become a humorous pastime subject to a Kevin Hart script.

Forever young,

The Lioness

Post 6

Hello

I have a lot on this massive mind of mind. Manipulation and lies to be exact. There seems to be an avid desire to manipulate those around me and this is not a personal thought, rather an observation. it seems as if there are a plethora of beings that wish to take the unique ways of those that surround and transform them into something beneficial to their intellectual capacity or store away for moments of vindictive social manslaughter of the 1st degree. no matter what there is always this ardent and cognizant method to the way we read people. once a person of interest is found or rather our eyes have feasted on the weakest of the prey, we stalk them. observe them in situations to see how they react to determine their level of predictability, we ask questions that subconsciously linger in the pits of their minds and like some insanely toxic drug they're hooked to their predator and blinded by a facade of charismatic conversations. why is it that some need to be manipulated? fear. fear, it eats at all of us. it eats us like some parasite that thrives off of the nutrient deficient soil of the sahara desert (sand). fear is why the manipulator manipulates and the manipulatee practically crawls back for more well, manipulation. manipulators have a fear of having no one left to dissect and those that are manipulated have a fear of having no one left to manipulate their timid little minds into self discovery. aha, we've got a wee bit of a detrimental mutualistic relationship forming here. both feed off of each other, and seemingly thrive off of each other until an unavoidable realization is made. dear jesus be with them when they realize how, well fucked up they both are. there will be a night when the high is not the same and a long look in both directions provides no escape for the imminent inward gaze awaiting them at rock bottom.

that my friend was manipulation gone wrong. i have yet to see a single human being that is absolutely fearless. this means something, and my dears it means that this tragic cycle will never cease. if this is manipulation gone wrong, then what is it gone right?

curiosity begets me and i find myself timid.

the lioness.

p.s sweet baby jesus thank you for soundcloud

Post 5

i am up late, again. listening to synth music and reblogging like usual, when a thought creeped into this wee little brain of mine, why are we so obsessed with knowing? a blog post i read today got me a thinkin' (shoutouts to the rabbit hole). i got to thinkin' why are we so obsessed with being in "the know?" is it not humanly possible to be content with acts of discretion and refrain from intruding questions within an ask.fm account (seriously, we've got to chill). why is there such joy in amateur detective work i.e twatchin' and insta stallkin? are we so far gone into the black hole that is technology that we have not the time to sit down and figure these items of discretion on our own? where is the allure in an anonymous question (please refrain from a rebuttle, i don't really care). however, i do care that our generation whilst becoming some of the most tech savvy synth producin' sample remasterin' youngsters to grace the fiery pits of earth, we are quickly diminishing the ability to look inwardly and trust our instinct and our innate ability to learn of a persons idiosyncrasies, engrave them in our brains, and recall on them to firm the bonds of friendship.

my friend wrote 2 separate posts commenting on faith, and the other commenting on the likes of technological damage to our generation. i think both are intertwined, somewhere between that text message and tweet we've lost our intuition. the gifts that make us human have been taken away by the constant effort to complete inhuman tasks (seriously we've probably written a novel series longer than all of Rowlings drafts and final copies with the tips of our fingers and nifty iPhones).

i should stop myself before i ramble on with unfinished thoughts, i just thought i would share that i hope i am not the only one that doesn't want to lose the gift of human nature.

much love,

the lioness.

Inexperienced self photographer

Hello.

Post 4

Hello there world, let us see how this goes, I'm quite intoxicated and decided to blog whatever comes forth....

Let us talk about relationships and the importance of them, and I am not solely referring to the commonality that is the boy and girl epic fail relationship that is later the muse for the now young lady's mistrust, and now young man's detached manner; no, i speak of relationships in general. what is the importance of them? why do we as humans crave them even when we deny it throughout self proclaimed era's of "solo dolo-ness." why is it so dire that we interact with others? does it validate our position and meaning in life? I believe that it does, I do so believe that interacting with this "other" that so many philosophers speak of is the way that we are able to bring to light who we are and how we fit within the nooks and crannies off life. Only this past summer did I realize how important this interactions were, I learned tidbits of "who I am" and how I truly react to certain situations...no matter my BAC. Those interactions are what make "us" "us." we learn from them, allow them to teach us what we like and dislike, allow them to show us the who is there for a reason, season, or the entire lifespan. There's so much to say, however, I keep missing the keys that lay upon my keyboard and find it best to say that this is better suited for another day.

Till then, consider the other, and its importance.

the lioness.

Post 3

dodging a bullet is a like a rush a air stemmed from the lungs of a long awaited pleasant karma for once. what does it mean when you've "dodged a bullet?" is it an insight into the current life situation we are in and a red flag for an immediate reevaluation? who knows. as of late, a plethora (5 point word) bullets have lodged within my bullet proof vest. when will the protective layer no longer be of use, and those "dodged bullets" become life crisis? i suppose this is the unhealthy aspect of my over analytical mind, too many questions and inferences and possibilities, OH the endless possibilities that plague my mind at night.

until then, i shall continue to dodge

the lioness.

Post 2

ever feel like you're too young, yet too old at the same time? i feel like this quite often, as if i'm wiser than a sage yet more naive than a pre-teen. a lot of thought comes with this unique complex, how long will i be at the fork in the road of youth? essentially, how long does my innocence have to live? life is a terminal cancer eating away at the cells of my innocent youth. will i miss the hopeful twinkle in my eye as the harsh reality of this cold world sets in....

i want to grow up, but growing up means making mistakes, and making mistakes means judgement, i hate being judge. my constant battle with perfectionism gets the best of me, when shall i slay that beast?

liquor helps knock her out sometimes. that's a road i'm not going to travel too far down (alcoholism runs in the family).

my roar is a meager meow at this hour.

till..

the lioness.

Thanks Mikey. (Way back when those shoes were white)

Maybe you should know what I look like.

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