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Caribbean Cruising – Haiti & Jamaica | Royal Caribbean

It’s not often that you can claim to have woken up in a different country four days in a row but that’s exactly what happened when Adam and I took to the seas and embarked on our first full length cruise, courtesy of Royal Caribbean. A quick plane ride (please note the sarcasm as this plane […]

Pain. Passion. Poetry. – Why I Sing The Black And Blues

posted by on 30/04/2012

I’ve been having a serious writing block for the last few months, starting things and just not finishing them has been the name of the game for a while.  That, and being so close to graduation, I think is stumping any creativity within me.  So, while I try and find myself, I’ll leave you with the last poem I wrote in full.

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i look at frowns the same way a newborn views smiles.

Familiar and welcoming

– never have to do too much to receive them but they come with every breath I take. I meet them like I greet the night; allow him to mount me and

remind me what my 3am feels like. smells like. tastes like,

midnight snacks that satisfy me the way the world never could. Yet,

here I am. Standing on the auction box you made in woodshop with my

hands tied with your expectations and my legs bound with your

judgment. Hair brushed with my

pride and tied with the prejudice bow you gave me on my 18th birthday.

Who’ll take this corrupt negro for $20?

She drinks and smokes and dances beyond midnight to the infectious

rhythm all our hearts make when we sin. You can

scold her for her indulgence and poison her with water you deem holy.

Going once, going

twice – sold – to the man wearing his expectations around his neck like an

expensive bowtie or

is that the noose you’ll tie around my throat for being who I am?

But wait,

who are you to judge me for anything less than the

ten nine ten I deserve? We both sing the blues baby- but because mine is

acapella, not ever the right note, always the right lyrics but louder and

prouder than you in the church choir; you’re allowed to condemn me to

hell. Honey,

the two of us hum our lewd hallelujahs and drink nothing but moonshine

in the starlight but the sun only seems to tell on me. Tell

the world the secrets I showed you under my sheets when I acted

like the freak the streets make illicit. I’m explicit with my quick witted

tongue and the swerve of my hips and the glint in my eye lets you hear my

conscious as she calls me daily, asking me when I’ll be

that girl again. Lady, you know I’ll never leave behind the

murmurs that merge with the moonlight. I’m proud of the bones

that build my being. ‘cause once you break the bricks we hide behind, the

skeletons in our closets all look the same. I

plunged into love once,

twice, three times

removed me from the lifestyle I live now

followed men into the Heavenly pits of Hell where

nobody was judged. Had dinner with the devil and cosigned on my lover’s lease;

offered to pay in heart and soul when he missed a payment. Left my

mind out of the

agreement so I would have something to

write this poem with.

Let them lift up my black veil so they could kiss the real me.

Here comes the bride, but,

since then

I never seem to fall in love anymore. I crash into it. Never on

purpose, always

an accident. A suicide attempt of the remainder of my heart as it

tries to heal the scars of love

slashed across my wrists,

gashed across my neck, bitten on my thighs

and punched on my arms – bruises, black in rue.

And I don’t know about you but

that is why,

ex lover of mine,

is why

I sing the blues.

 

I had a conversation with an ex lover of mine the other day.  He asked me to explain to him “why are you like that?  Which was a wee bit odd and kinda awkward at that point because I didn’t know I was any type of way and so, I didn’t really know what to say.  But, he continued to tell me -despite my trying to divert the conversation towards my love for giraffes -that I was a bitch and that I didn’t know what I wanted in my life.  And that whoever hurt me in the past is making everyone else suffer and that I’d probably live a really lonely life because of my ‘ways’.

First of all.  Dude.  Why is it only another man that can make me this cold hearted ‘bitch’ that I apparently am?  Secondly, maybe I’ve been a bitch the whole time, but you’re only just realising.  Or maybe I’m like this because I’m judged everyday for decisions that I don’t necessarily think are that crazy.  I know my mother judges me.  I know my sister judges me.  Hell, I know most of my nearest and dearest friends judge me for some of the questionable things I say or do or wear or eat.  But, it’s this judgement that we all need to help us grow into adults instead of staying as kids that can get away with pretty much anything because they don’t know any better.

Oh we all know better – doesn’t stop us from doing it.

I think it’s safe to say that I’m happy with who I am now.  I’m proud I’ve left who I was behind and I’m excited with who I’m going to be.  I don’t need to explain myself to anybody – well, in any way other than poem form of course – but, like I say everyday, people are gonna do what they wanna do, wear what they wanna wear, be who they wanna be regardless of what the world thinks or says.  Regardless of who judges and what people think is necessary.

And the sooner we all come to terms with that, the sooner we all start doing what we want, the happier this damned world will be.

Can I get an Amen?