Fatherland

When I was 5 years old

My grandfather

Decided it was time to sit me down

And discuss our heritage

This lesson was a direct result

Of him discovering my

Obsession with jumping

off the roof of his house

In direct violation of an express order

Not to do so

But danger was a foreign concept to me

And I was made out of Teflon

And rubber

Death was about as real as

Santa clauseAfter discovering mid flight

My grandfather brought me in

Grateful I had not broken any bones

and decided it was time for me

To hear my legacy

I come from the stock of murders

And thieves

Of bushmen and robbers

I am wiley and resourceful

I laugh hard and play for keeps

We are a honorable stock

And our morality is that of superior women

We are Cimarron

We are stolen back slaves

We are freemen with the conscience

To kill

And our children have wild hearts

And no sense of shame

My parents called me a tom-boy and tried to make me sit

My grandfather called me Nanny’s soldier

And told me to run everywhere

My grandmother told me that pants were unlady like

So my grandfather bought me shorts

At 7 he told me that rather than let their slaves go

The masters on Jamaican plantations burned their slaves

Quarters up in the middle of the night

Freedom for them

Was for the soul only

The bodies would forever be there’s

Fairytales and fantasies give us maps

For the impossible

Dreams are the playbook for life

If you can’t imagine it

Then you can never reach for it

We are told and we continue to tell

Stories that are impossible and improbable

We need them

To lead our bodies to new places

And we need them to hold

Our spirits together

My grandfather believe that the slaves who stole

Themselves back from moral men

Were honorable thieves

And superior beings

And thus gave us the bloodline of gods

We swam in the long forgotten blood of Poseidon

And the smiles of Loki healed our scars

Odon was in the salt of our tears and sweat

And Anansi kept our children clever

I come from an island of forgotten but not powerless gods

Thieves, murders, and robbers, all honorable men taking back

Their morality from the men who tried to steal their best. 

When I find myelf

I live my life

In a constant state of alright

But rarely was it truly ok

Until one day when I stumbled

Upon an orchid growing up

Through the cracks of an urban walkway

There she was bold and delicate

Beautiful and righteous

Soft and gritty

The type of flower that blooms

For no one and opens

When she wants to show off for herself

At first I wanted to pick her

But then I realized it would be best

To just visit

So I came to her

Over and over

For blessings

For company

For fun and peace

And she opened her petals

Showed me her joy

And brought me to a Maybe

Where before I was mostly NO

This orchard dancing in the sun

Grows in the moon

Thrives on music

And grooves to the twinkle of stars

Through the sound of stem I hear

My life in colors of hope and promise

Through the whisper of her leaves

I see my potential in notes of

Sturdy valor

My grand orchid

After bringing the sublime to my feet

She merely folds up again

And goes back to sleep 

Guest Blogger: Kat --- strong and kind, Smart and pretty. Won't let her disease define her.

The month of August*
Brings emotions to the surface
Because of two major events that happened in that month
But ten years apart…
In 1998, I got married
Walked down an aisle with a bouquet of beautiful flowers
Bright & Warm
In 2008, I was ill
And walked down the aisle with a noisy metal IV pole
Cold & Pale
Both times, I wore a billowy white gown
In the month of August

Most people remember their wedding anniversary.  Unfortunately for me, my illness took away a date that should be remembered and cherished.  I had originally wanted to celebrate my ten year anniversary with a Luau-themed party but instead I ended up in the hospital with a Total Gastrectomy and a medical bill.

In the beginning…
When things are good
And laughter comes freely…

And then…
One day
It becomes real
Suddenly,
You're tired
Frustrated
Arguments
Over stupid things.
Because no one wants to see someone that they love sick, but we have no idea how to deal with it…
To scream the words we CAN NOT say lovingly
Because it hurts
Because we want our old life back


Relationships take work and they're hard enough on their own, but throw a chronic illness into the mix and it can really shake things up.
I wasn't ill when I met my husband.  I was spontaneous.  I was carefree.  I was "healthy."  Nothing was planned.  We stayed out late, eating and drinking without hesitation.  No doctor appointments (unless a cold surfaced.) and not a lot of medical bills in the mailbox. 
And then…Bam!
The person that you knew for (weeks, months or years) becomes different…and it's not their fault.   

Illness changes you
But are those with you
Ready to change too?

Being with someone who is ill takes commitment.  It's easy to say, "It'll be okay, because I love them."  but it ain't that simply.  It can be a hard task to take on, seriously, but definitely something that can be done….IF you're ready. 
Some people are.  Some people are not…and it's not their fault.

People sometimes ask me…"Should I get into a relationship and tell them what I know? Or keep it a secret (until they fall madly in love with me?)
People sometimes ask me…"Why are things so different, does it get better with time?"

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

So many questions
"Would you stay if I get sick?"
"Could I hear the answer to that question without crying?"
"Should I have said anything…or should I have waited?"
"Would that have made a difference"
"Could it?"
"Should it?"

I wish I could answer the questions that plague the minds of so many people…but I don't know the answer because every relationship is special and wonderfully unique.  You might be surprised when someone who doesn't like your dirty tennis shoes holds your hair back when you throw up. 
You might be amazed at that person who waits patiently in the ER when usually a fast food order gets them frazzled. 
But you know deep down, when it's the right time and although you might have made mistakes in the past
You'll know
You just have to trust yourself.



*August 15 means 15 years married and 21 years together and still hanging in there :)

Kat is amazing. If you want to learn more about her check out her website -->

 http://www.mycrazycolon.com/index.html

The power of emptiness

My mother is full of the ghosts
Of women weighed down
By the hunger of children
They could not feed
She is a serpent
Who twists in on itself
In order to feed
But bites her seed instead
She eats her young
To save them from the mean
My mother is a whip that lashes out
And then recoils from the sound
She is a bitter herb that boils down
To sweet
My mother is a dreamer who speaks
In nightmares and terrors
She is a drummer who beats the brains
Of those she allows to march in line
With her mission
She knows fear but is not afraid
A roaming queen with roots everywhere
I owe my biting tongue
And raging wit to her
Inconsistencies are her armor 
She is the tree that raises it’s branches
To trip the careless
And forces you to take notice
Of the depths of her countenance
My mother is a typhoon, a tornado, and a hurricane
Of untapped vengeance waiting for release 
She is buried up to her neck in the mist of
A fighting demon
She is holy, beating back the monarchy
Of self loathing with the newly formed
Pan-womanism of sisters and mothers
She is awful and wonderful and magnificent and terrible
My mother is not my friend
She is my patron and my master
My mother is my arch stone and healer
She is my burden and liberator
We are complicated and broken
But never beaten

Wounds

"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."             Rose Kennedy’

I was born fearless. I was born brave and successful and full of righteous brilliance. I was star fallen from heaven just waiting to unleash my shine. Then Lupus came and brought with it apprehension and timidity. Fear became something I could touch and feel and it is the lingering consequence of pain. Pain has made me soft and brainless. Pain has changed my fervor for life into a mute bare push for existence. I have been going through the motions of living because I’m in the habit of waking up every morning. I am encouraged by people who love me and I let them prod and lead not really thinking about anything other than preventing more pain. 

I have a friend who had a very complicated upbringing. Despite the adversity She is smart, beautiful, intelligent, and one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. She is also damaged as we all tend to be in some way or another and is trying to cope with her issues using the emotional tools she has developed. The truth is she will never fully rid herself of those marks. I would argue and she should not even try. They are stains that will never wash away. We are told that we should be cleansed and the whiter the better but what if that’s just a myth to feed an unquestioned narrative. What if the stains are what make us whole and genuine. Our scars do not make us porous wretched souls in need of rebuilding. Our scars make us diverse and interesting they give us the armor we need to face the world as it is. Reality is dirty and unpredictable and we need to be able to trust our bodies and souls with the sacred task of protecting our minds from complete and utter destruction. The vessel needed for this divine mission must be sturdy and tested. It must be well worn and weathered. New things lack the memory of survival. Young things are naïve and lack the wisdom that often comes with experience.

I move around a lot these days

….same thing that I've always done

but I'm older now and I get tired some

My friend has scars. They are battle scars. She has fought for her sanity and the sanctity of her person. The scars have created the shield she will need in order to continue her journey and be exactly who she needs to be. They are malleable tools that are priceless and irreplaceable. The experiences, both good and bad, that make up our perception of reality are essential to the essence of our beings. Every high and every low makes us the complicated and richly unique creatures we are. Scars carry stories and history. They are rarely the consequence of something boring. More often they are the prize for surviving. Surviving is a badge of honor.

I am not ashamed of my fear. Trepidation is a natural reaction to adversity. I am not proud of my anxiety but it a necessary component to my growth and development. I am still working on finding my natural born braveness. My experiences have helped me  to understand many different perspectives and have drawn me to people who can help me navigate this difficult journey. I know that my fear is helping to shape the person I was meant to be but it was not meant to define me. Scars may change the landscape but they cannot form the entire picture. Scars are part of the characterization they are not the entire story. I find that my friend, whom I love dearly, is not worse for the wear that has been placed on her. She is like a diamond polished by rough paper. The end result is lustrous and radiant. She struggles but but the battles continue to be waged. She wins some and she losses some but she keeps fighting just like me. We are the same in that manner and I am proud to call her my comrade in arms. We are not perfect nor should we be. Perfection is over-rated an. The important things in life are full of inconsistencies and help us to constantly adapt to changing circumstances. I’m thankful for my scars and I’m thankful for the people who stand with me. Rejoice in sadness and be thankful for pain because without we would not appreciate joy nearly as much. 

Demoralized but not defeated

It is important to record the feelings and emotions connected with a not guilty verdict with regards to the death Trayvon Benjamin Martin. Just as Mamie Till recorded all of the consequences of the lynching of her son so to must we, the conscious, record the consequences of this horrible outcome. The record must be preserved, the rage and anger must be recorded so that future generations know that we were not all complacent in the perpetuation of racial dominance in our justice system.

Zimmerman’s account of events is this:

    While driving home after running errands Zimmerman saw a black boy walking home in the rain. The boy wasn’t running and didn’t appear to be in a hurry so he was inherently suspicious. Zimmerman knew that black people had been committing crimes in that neighborhood so he naturally called the police to report the suspicious character even though this person was committing no crime. He gave the police all the information he had and then CONTINUED to stalk the child. Even though he claims to live in the neighborhood and there are only three streets in that subdivision he could not give the police his exact location. He claims he got out of his car to look at street signs. In reality he left his car to follow the suspicious looking black child. Then there was an altercation and the child ended up dead.

Of course Zimmerman had to lie about what happened. He didn’t want to go to jail. Human nature dictates he tell a story that makes him look as innocent as possible. However, when the police arrived and saw an unarmed dead child and heard a remotely plausible for his dead they assumed no crime committed.  They didn’t check Trayvon’s cell phone, they didn’t go and ask if anyone knew him, they didn’t go door to door to see if anyone was missing from any of the residences. They labeled him a John Doe until his parents called to report him missing and they connected the information.

What is so bothersome about this situation is that everyone agrees that Zimmerman gave several different accounts of the events of that night. Meaning he LIED. He LIED about a lot of things. People who are innocent don’t lie. Additionally his injuries were not consistent with the attack he alleged happened. Lastly, he felt absolutely no remorse for killing an unarmed boy who was committing no crime at the time of his death. It is open season on black boys, make no mistake, this is the reality in America in the year of our Lord 2013.

We as a society criminalize the African American aesthetic.

We have a clear example of this with the Zummerman verdict. In order to find that Zimmerman was justified in his use of self defense the jury had to believe that Trayvon attacked him. Zimmerman's account makes Trayvon sound like a mix between Shaft and Chuck Norris. Zimmerman claims Trayvon told him, "You gonna die tonight". Then after he was shot Trayvon said, "You got me!". I'm sorry WHAT?!  Trayvon grew three new limbs in order to batter Zimmerman in a myriad of different ways while talking shit and after being shot IN THE CHEST he sat up and continued to SPEAK. oooooookaaaaayyyyyyy.

The act of stalking and instilling fear in the black child was of no concern to the jury. The fact that Zimmerman was acting like a creepy stalker weirdo was of no concern to them. 


 The fear before and after the conclusion of this case was that black people would do what comes naturally and act in lawless ways all around the country.

 RIOTS. THERE WILL BE RIOTS. THE BLACKS ARE MOVING. WATCH THE RIOTS.  Let’s be honest and historically accurate, in our nation’s history the majority of riots that occurred were in fact centered around race. However, they were white men coming together as a group for the sole purpose of reinforcing racial superiority. Watch the movie Rosewood. There were dozens of Rosewood's all over America. Additionally, the fear of "the great black riot" is rooted in the fact that if minorities did disrupt the racially subversive system of oppression they would be completely justified in doing so.The oppressors have taught the oppressed that might makes right. Domination is acceptable as long as you remand dominant. Equality is dangerous because power must be retained at all costs. Everyone can't have power because that would take the value away from power. White people are legitimately scared of becoming the minority because they know that they have treated minorities in a horrible manner and that is exactly what they deserve in return.

Luckily minorities have been instructed to be patient.

I suppose that justice is too much to ask from a system that was never built to respect minorities. Our country was founded on inequality and that is the vein that continues to run throughout all of our institutions.The oppressed have been told to be better than their oppressors. They have been called  to be non-violent and forgiving. Minorities have been taught to grin and bear it and eventually things will get better. Minorities are taught to hope and work with their oppressors. Also, y'all have a black president so racism is over and you should just be happy.  . .

I would have been happy if Zimmerman had stayed in his damn car. If Zimmerman had stayed in his car Trayvon would still be alive. If he hadn’t have been carrying a gun Trayvon wold still be alive.   If he wasn’t such a machismo hothead Trayvon would still be alive.  Zimmerman created the situation that resulted in the death of a child and he should be held accountable for that death. But in America the life of a brown baby is expendable.

They had to believe that Trayvon was inherently capable of that severe level of violence and that he used it on Zimmerman without any justification. While Zimmerman had the right to defend himself it does not look like Trayvon had the same right. Even though he was being stalked and there is testimony that he was frightened by his stalker the assumption is that he only had the right to run away because his white stalker could not be as much of a threat as he was.

A black man is assumed to be up to no good until he proves that his presence is not a threat. He must validate his existence or risk death in many cases.

Emmett Till was lynched over 40 years ago and his killers were never held accountable. Today the man who lynched Trayvon Benjamin Martin walks free. He was given his freedom with the blessings of the same racial perverse system that never held the killers Emmett Till accountable. 

 I suppose that justice is too much to ask from a system that was never built to respect or protect minorities.



This terrifies me. I am reluctant to bring a child into this world in this country. If I was Sabrina Fulton I would have set George Zimmerman on fire. I would have literally lit his ass up because he was in the wrong and feels absolutely no remorse for his actions. He is smug and entitled and generally fucked up.  I don’t want to have explain to my child that people believe him or her to be less than human because of a rich deposit of melanin. I couldn’t instruct my sons to bow and scrape in order to survive. I don’t know if I’ll be able to contain my rage and anger when my children invariably ask me about inequality and injustice.

The only brightness I see in this dark situation is the fact that my non-black friends are also enraged at the situation. This is progress. When those who are not affected by the oppression are none the less angered by it then we are headed in the right direction. Fighting the inherent racism of a system that was built to thrive on the subjugation of an entire people is not an easy task but as long as I remember I’m not fighting the battle alone I think I can survive the unforgiving heartache.

All The Things I've Never Known

Her smile is viral

It smothers you
And stretches your endurance
Her mouth is toxic
Like a wasteland
It is filled with broken promises
And decapitated dreams
Her tongue is deceptive like a
Hologram with teeth
Or a book that cuts
Her pages are no good
But she won’t be deferred
She cannot be deterred
She will make her passion heard
She is needy and greedy and will step
Through death and drag the stench
Of tears and blood and waste
Right across your gut

I am stuck to her
Like a fly to a death light I used to fight it
But now it’s pointless
even though she has all the valu
of a discarded cigarette
Smelling of old use
She is my muse

Better for the loss

Saudade (European Portuguese: [sɐwˈðaðɨ], Brazilian Portuguese: [sawˈdadi] or [sawˈdadʒi], Galician: [sawˈðaðe]; plural saudades) is a Portuguese and Galician word that has no direct translation in English. It describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic or deeply melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing will never return. Saudade was once described as "the love that remains" after someone is gone.
Shakespeare described it as
"better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all" What. Ev. rrrrrrrrrr.

I've been thinking about this word a lot recently. To me the word is an emotionally charged conduit for growth and mental evolution.  The word is obviously wrapped up in the feelings and memories of love but it also highlights that space that love leaves behind. Lost love doesn't leave you empty oh NOOOO that would be too easy,

 on the contrary it leaves you full to the brim. You are full of anger, hatred, sadness, worry, terror, apathy, and lastly, much to your dismay there may still be love there. The beauty of this word is that while the object of affection has gone the SUBJECT of study is still right where he or she needs to be. YOU. It's about you. How you feel, how you reacted, how YOU got to this moment right the fuck now. 

Let's take a closer look at that shall we

 

I have loved a few women in my life. A few women have loved me back. Many of these women have been bat poop, lead paint eating, medication needing, "that escalated quickly", certifiably crazy. I've had my heart broken twice by these Harley Quinn rejects and I have to think. . .. maybe. . . it's not them.If you find yourself in the same situation more than once you clearly needed a better more capable teacher.   I see damage and I say, "Hey I can fix that". However, women are not houses that you can slap some paint on and flip for a profit. These women have had real serious issues they refused to deal with hell they didn't even want to acknowledge that they HAD issues

THAT, ladies and gentlement, is unacceptable. I'm ok with you being batty as long as you (1) know you're batty and (2) are trying to un-bat yourself. 

SO I learned it's not my job to parent grown ass people. It's not in either of our best interests to drag you kicking and screaming to mental stability. No more being a super hero lesbian for me! 

BUT the experience of being flushed down an emotional toilet. That lesson SHO WAS LEARNED THE GOT DAMN HARD WAY.

Apparently I wasn't content just hearing that it hurts to be shot. I had to get shot and then say SHIT that was really unpleasant. The women I have loved have had good qualities.  There were things about them that drew me in and encouraged me to stay. Then there were moments when I had to just let go and let God. Spending all that time with crazy has taught me to identify crazy FROM THE JUMP. 

It's taught me to cut ties quicker and it's taught me not to let those people back into my life no matter how pathetic or sorry they seem. . .

But back to Saudade.  . .just because I had to let go of these moments and people doesn't mean I can't mourn them. I should mourn them I can even miss them a little and reflect on the genuine good times we had with a tempered appreciation. These experiences will help me appreciate the person who will make me better. They taught me to love in spite of difficulties and to learn to deal with conflict without aggression. 

While in Cleveland I fell in love  with a women I thought was the most fantastic human in the world (read: she was so fine I should have run and hid).
 She was a got damn human unicorn. Like seeing Tina Turner live for the first time and being blown away by the fact that Jesus would make a pair of legs like that. LORD HAVE ALL THE MERCY. ** looks around for a chair pulls it up and collapses**

 I thought that maybe Jesus had actually come down from heaven and brought me to a gay bar and pointed me in her direction JUST FOR AN ANOINTING. She was smart and kind and funny and fucking GORGEOUS.  AND, it just so happened she was part of a date auction and I bid on her and won **jigs**. 

On our date I decided I was going to marry her. Then I found out that was not possible because she had a girlfriend (no I'm not bitter AT TALL). So we became friends but that didn't stop me from falling head over heels completely in love with her. She couldn't love me back and it didn't matter. She was still magic to me and that will never change.  I value my time with her because the act of loving her brought some sort of weird energy to my life. I was driven to be better for her. Even though she would not to be with me I chose not be bitter and angry and all around shitty (for long). I realized that the experience was going to make me a better partner in the long run. I have no regrets about trying to win her and I'll never blame her for my heartbreak. Love is dangerous, it's a gamble, it is the threshold at the start of any decent and productive relationship but love is not the only thing. 

We have to look back at our relationships or the people we have loved and lost and take something productive from the time we had with them if we are to make better use of  the time we still have. Hiding from the memories or pretending like they never happened or even worse wallowing in anger is only going to stunt US. I learned this lesson the hard way but I learned and I'm grateful for the opportunity to be better. 
There's a melancholy left when you realize your life has to change and you can no longer rely on routines you've come to depend on but there is also a freedom in moving forward towards who you are meant to be, whatever that may amount to.