I Keep Holding On...

When you think you shut down something in order to avoid a terrible mistake, you end up making more mistakes to add to the one that you thought you've avoided. That was destroying something that was already strained in the most fantastic of ways. So i can do what, exactly...avoid being dishonest? I made myself look stupid in my decisions in love, and now I have nothing here in this heart. Working has replaced my emotions. I can't muster enough to recapture what was, nor even spark what little I have left. That explains why my ass is up on All Hallows' Eve typing this shit to you all. But the title has its purpose. I must regain ground. My capoeira has been stronger and trickier than the old mess I've practiced. I have gained three jobs, one being an entrepreneurship. I have eaten and felt healthier. To conclude these revelations for now, I've finally learned how to say "no", without actually saying it! Thank egun! i attribute all of my experiences of this up and down "5" year to my ancestors and orisa, and how they've guided me through my tumult ans triumphs. Albeit there's a lingering love that I still carry for this person, I still recognize that movement happens when you initiate the move. I don't regret the situation. In fact, as much as it hurts to see her smile without me, it actually makes me happy to see her do so, knowing all of the things she's experienced in the past three years. I will continue to ask for more blessing for her family and their livelihood.

As for me...well, I plan on taking this new business further. By January, I hope to make it officially a running non-profit for this community. I made a silly assumption about how I felt and did not listen to the inner God about this person that made a presence after my ex. Thank goodness it was short lived and not a situation of presumable love. I needed true time after my ex, and I didn't give it enough, due to my weakness in accepting the relationship's downfall. therefore, my egun let me know quickly what I needed to do to return back to my higher self. Truth be told, I do miss my ex, but I don't miss the struggling. I wish I didn't have to split with her, but I think we both did so in order to be better people. Maybe there will be a recon or our souls or togetherness. Until then, we are reminded to treasure the good times that or emotions bring us. Funny how love works. I am reminded by Caretta Bell's song verse: "Love Lets You Be Free."

You are sure right, Ms. Bell.

Ifeanyi Okoro
10/31/2010

"Poem For A Poet-less Feeling"

I am struggling to find a beautiful world outside my window...again. Everything has unraveled due to my impatience and immaturity. The child inside hides in obscurity. I need security for my fragile mind. Cracking under pressure like a capsule and time be the hammer constantly racking my brain on note. Key the theme music stuck in my throat. I choke, but it isn't a Heimlich, I'm spineless with jellyfish moves towards my future, I sting my upbringing, financial improvements groove not to the beat. The needle is heated, and a fire's under my feet.

I need space for sanity but the universe is vast, so there goes my die cast into my problematic past. Closet cleaning proceeds to bring more up than swept rugs that uncover trouble that bugs me. Dust mites and ugly feelings. I keep falling into love that falls into potholes that form from the innermost sanctum of my soul. Been down this street before. Dare I ignore these warning signs like a crime in progress. Just asking moms from her higher seat to bring me all blessings and praises due. I'd a candle, too, but strike a match from all the funk that I've been going through? Shit is blowing me like a prostitute. Even my poetry has a magnitude of marginalizing my attitude. Family is separated like a chattel situation. Due to my occupations, I've been schoolin' cats but not geeting the lessons back from Heaven's Nation. Vacation coming. Somehow this seems a bat to similar to home. Being without one and garnishing the shit I own.

Friends are enemies and commdoities of calamity. Pit me against one another like varsity vanity. Showing off the anger and leaving me to deal. I cut the cards and get the whip appeal, you know, the lashes on the back with vegan diets or beef continued? What's next? My spiritual choice on the menu? I need a fix. Need a jump start, kick start, starter pistol. Shoot after two yells into the midst of madness. Run after happiness. Finish strong like James Brown. Stretch the smile like circus clowns. Getting down. Getting up is required first. Stop being candy assed and let my star burst.

What's worse? Even after this verse, I gotta still generate the scrilla before the first.


Ifeanyi Okoro II
Copyright 10/31/2010

2010partyover! Oops! Outta time?

2009! You deserve a proper send off. A hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a "fuck you", as you bounce off of the right foot of my fury! It's been a decade to remember, forget, shit on, and be thankful for...I won't fit all, but some of what I can gather.

Well, I don't do well with resolutions. At least not the ones I come up with. I have had a rough 2009. Had bad relationships that led to my tumultuous disposition, health faded dramatically, was screwed out of my finances by AT&T, a shiesty landlord, and FEMA not willing to help me for my apartment damages from Hurricane Ike...hell, I'm just not coming back into contact with friends that I left for a minute! How's that for rounding the bases in life?

Wow. I still cannot believe Michael Jackson is gone. There are so many entertainers for this first decade of the 2000s that left so quick. No Luther, no Gerald Levert, Aaliyah left here fast, Left-Eye, damn near everyone! James Brown left on "Christmas Day" just as horrible as the tsunami victims did in the east. Man. These are the more surfacing entertainers that were noticed. Bullshit like the planes crashing into the World Trade Center Towers, this fucking "recession" (seems like the same damn shit of old for the Africans here on this God-forsaken land), incited war and imprisonment against world court laws, and ridiculous kidnappings and gruesome murders and sexual deviancies. I mean, seriously folks, tapping your feet in a stall? Using funds to cross your borders for some Argentine skin slapping? Burying a female under the government driveway? cigars...eh, I can't say no more. Wait, one more...INFIDELITY AND CHILD MOLESTATION CRIMES AMONGST the ones who lobby for bills to stop these shits?!?!?

Tiger, Serena, Rodman, Jordan, Vick, Ray Lewis, Bonds, Kanye, Odom, Bey and Jay, Nelly, P-Diddy, Kobe, Shaq, Sosa...What the fuck, man?!?! Targets on the backs of black athletes and entertainers shoved right in the world's face. I mean it's one to know form our own perspective, but to have "white America" replay it as if it's the end of the ages?!?! (See 2012 for more bullshit dramatizing) Honestly, no one can say that they didn't read the fine print when it came to national notoriety.

I'm glad everyone is still talking about Darfur, the G8 Summit, the overthrow in Honduras, The immigration reform, and of course, Jena 6, Brandon McClellan, media banning in Iraq and China. Yeah, who cares about them less? (Where's Kanye?)

There were some good points here and there. These friends and associates helped me to re-center and focus on my goals and achievements to come and conquer. Barack Obama first quarter-term, after overpowering stiff (arm) competition, a ditzy fish ("Sarah Barracuda"), and Lieberman bitching out to join and hide behind the republican party, now donned "The Michael Steele Curtain"comes to a close....here, have some fried chicken and watermelon (cue Zoeller comments).

Shani Davis won gold, and Usain Bolt has revealed that he is half-man, half-cheetah...Jennifer Hudson overcame tremendous pain with her brother and mother's greusome murders, and not only bravely came back out to perform, the got the bitch ass man that did the murders. Togo had its first olympic participant and WON a medal, I believe! Vince Carter totally destroyed 7'6" Weis, and posthumously, Michael was resonating worldwide, as if he was the second coming, smashing all music sales and memorabilia...(Take that, Elvis!)

Yaaaaay! Maxwell and Sade returned from their hiatuses, and Little Brother and De La Soul fucking shut down the place. Props to Pharoahe for his part in amping up HTown along with Talib, Jean Grey, KRS-One, K-O, K-Rino, M-1, Dwele, and Common!!!

Rest with the ancestors, Dilla Dog and Batik. We still jam you all. Chris Henry, McNair, couple of boxers...Pimp C?!?!? Wow...what's really good with these exits?


I had a great time with Chloe, Cody, and Corey, regardless of what happened within the relationship that has me separated from whom I considered my children as well. I still miss them, but things need to progress. Maybe in the future. I joined Grupo De N'Golo Houston and picked up some righteous infor and tecniques for Capoeira Angola. Even had several compliments about my singing of the "corridos" and chulas! It's imperative that I visit a mestre, either here, or in Bahia, Brazil.

My families on both sides took some hits. I lost a great-aunt on my dad's side of the family, and my aunts on my mother's side are not boding well with their health, and it's seemingly the same conditions that my mother had. I don't want to see them suffer like this towards the latter ages. Bittersweet was my mother's birthday, in which she celebrated 55 years of her spirit being remembered. The same day which my girlfriend's mother also passed. Egun was still remembered, regardless.

So many things, so many thi...oh yeah! I finally got my pots back (warriors), but I need to get my ilekes, QUICK!!! I can begin to continue on my path that is oddly and strenly challenged by my Igbo of a father. He just now toldme about my middle name, not knowing that I knew some tidbits about it. Funny that the same thing I am now going towards matches a spiritual connection with my name (Nwosu - son of the Osu, considered a demi-god/omo Oya-child of Oya, considered a saint, or orisa...a demi-god). It will be interesting if I can be able to go to Africa and conclude my path towards enlightenment and soul-searching.


So many things...so ma...wait...Ok, so how about i'm more apt in my astrology now? My dreams are coming very strong. I even share my dreams with my sweetheart, and she shares with me. Some say it's turning up as a 5-year for me in numerology, but also in terms of Osun coming around the bend to help my spiritual path.

My locs are long as hell now!

I've met a wonderful woman, and we struggle at times. However, she helped me through a lot of shit, (as well as my Ifa family) and she's been the inspiration behind half of my works.

I've never cried so much in my life...maybe after my mother's passing years ago. But a damn relationship will do that to you, as this one did me soooo bad. Life lessons learned.

Umm, I have more, but I think I'll just put them out as they go. I'm just ready for 2010. Isn't everybody? I have my shoes on...maybe I should wait to damage '10s behind if done wrong. let me give this new decade a try. Man...I'll be 30 next year?!?!?!

"Still Another Day (Reprise)" - Neruda's poem

I start to think of Pablo Neruda's poem everytime it rains.



"We the mortals touch the metals,
the wind, the ocean shores,
the stones, knowing they will go on,
inert or burning,
and I was discovering,
naming all the these things:
it was my destiny to love and say goodbye."



— Pablo Neruda (Still Another Day)





So I infused my own wonders of this quizzical feeling
and came up with this...
A reprise of sorts, adding a few elements of my own.



I think of the words of the Chilean
when mists massage heated Texas panes on my domecile
It sends me to sleep with the rain
I once read this poem on a bus stop, and fell in love with it.
That's what I like about poetry.
She likes to do what she wants, when she wants to...
but only with you.

She falls into your hands.
She comes through many vehicles traveling
through


Solano Trindade
Gwendowlyn Brooks
Langston Hughes
James Baldwin
me...
and the Chilean




I would love to stick my tongue out in this precipitation
gather all of the words poured out by the angels
and swallow the divine spirit of it.
Spit out their truths,
their pain
their adventures amongst us in flesh covered souls
out in these streets to repeat her verses, like

John Lennon vs. The Christ phenomena

Jimi Hendrix and that "stuff"

Open the Doors to See My Family Stone
sitting high upon these hills I feel...
drenched in the thunder and lightning
I'm under their tears
the Orisas grant what we only ask in honesty
so I watch as Sango and Oya pull back the curtains
showering me with love and poetry
and midnight insomnia
and silent dripping
these are my candy coated dreams that won't go away
Speech! In all it's damn glory I am falling...
another day, still another, I am crawling to bed
Angry at sandmen that promised me temporary death
and torture me with impending prophetic breaths.



Why give me liberty late night
and NOT A VISION OF HER?
I long for her love, for she is worthy to be praised
Like a Lord magnified and raised
I imagine her smile and laugh at her downfall...
it is imminent to slide on the wayside
bedside
beside our backsides
I am waiting to kiss the surface of her brown terrain
that layer her spine and lumbar
I desire to smooth my hands inside of her
blend when these celestial bodies are in her grasp
and planets are aligned with my libido

I am stargazing
Needs want to make it to her
Wants then need to bid farewell soon

But comets shoot across skies
to continue to destinations of forever



why

can't

I

She waits for me to call her on stage
I am of fright whilee she is away
It is written, she is scripted
on my heart, by the Chilean artist
He was just adoring nature
giving me a gift that keeps giving
for tomorrow



© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

"Still Another Day" - Poem by Pablo Neruda
(all photos used are not used in slander, defamation, nor crude and explicit forms.)

"A Better Life - (Dreams)"

This is actually a Tweet-turned-poem, originally posted Sunday, July 5, 2009 at 6:02 am.


I will attempt to dream a better life.
I don't think I've ever felt this before.
You know, the effect of love gone awry.
Not of this magnitude.
Or latitude, longitude, or longevity.
Even readings show confusion
As I commenced to cast last night.
Give me strength to fight the weakness of the flesh.
The depths of my inept love still left, for her...
I'm not understanding why she's still in my dreams.
Why I'm trying so hard to move forward
And my heart will not get out of park.
Pulling over in three lanes wanting to lose control at the wheel
Letting go gets harder
Because of my grip on the thoughts of her.
So I grasp no concept of giving up so easily, yet, I'm
Asking ancestors to ease my grip & pain.
I feel they're granting me only one to deal
My dreams are becoming more depressing in a way,
But more informative.
More deforming to my inner child
Birthing angst and worry pushing and contracting
Cutting the cord to sever something I sought that sweet
I'm but a baby in this new found world of hatred of self
Trying to find someone to hold me in this time, I'm cold
In this time I am shivering in uncertainty
In this time her love may be grasped by another God
I'm praying to ignore this.
My hands clasped resemble hers of closed chances
I'm only walking, crawling, clawing, salivating, crying, trying to be
A man
Her man
But this man is not what a dream is supposed to be like
Cause in this life you must dream big to grow
I am stunting my chance to grow cause she's grown on me so much
I'm wrapped with her vines
I am sealed with seven curses of admiration
I am crazy with no form of dignity when dialing
Calling the good sweet ancestors for help
(Not divine anymore I will try to be tomorrow, mama)
When I don't wake up without my dirt
My casket of her thoughts of me
My suit, (mama, she had a suit for me, did you see it?)
My love suits no other for now cause heartache is
Too big of a size for anyone else
But a man can dream, can't he?
And a man can feel can't he?
So I feel this dream dresses funny, so it can't be here, no
Not at this point and time
And spacial tear
And cardiac wear on shoulders so narrow
I want to feel her in my sides as we blend
Shower with her skin to scrub my soul
Suck her tears from her cheeks and blow sandalwood kisses
Back to her heart
I'm not eager to live with continuous torture
I'm overanxious to see where can I die in her memories
To be resurrected from the lips of hers as she speaks of my name
To sleep forever as she marks my tombstone with
Eulogies and epiphanies
Sleep, to temporarily see God in the works
I am in the works or creating a mess of myself, fix me
I love her, but I don't want bad dreams or thoughts about her now.
I will attempt to dream a better life.

"Miss Communication"

I am sick of Miss Communication
Driving me wild without a permit
Feeling comfortable ruining my day
Miss Communication
I cannot understand her convo
Constantly complaining
Inaudibly explaining to me about
Much ado
Nothing new
Just static in static situations
(When will my lover enter the damn conversation?)
She will change suits to boot the old clothes
Chew your arguments up and spit out bones
Without mail, computers, or cell phones
Alone, the talk is cheap
The meeting together is pricey
A high one to pay
But that is Miss Communication's way
I hate Miss Communication
She hangs around Miss Fortune
Miss Leading
Miss Deeds
Miss Construed
I'd like to dismiss the all Misses
Without really being rude
She needs to leave
So me and my love can connect easily.



- Ifeanyi Okoro II

"Star-gazing In Her Eyes"

I can only
wish upon plotted Dogon stars for you
In my dreams

Unwrap your sultry moans in my ears as a present
Feel you when your voice vibrates upon my soul
Touch you with my poetics
Massage you with my visual holds
Bandage you with my caring soul
I run through rainfall to get close to your climax
Meditate amongst nine scented candles and sandalwood to smell you
Taste tamarind to remember your flavor
Take pictures of roses and sunflowers concealing your spirit
You make me sick, and I like it...
I shall skip work
Stay in bed and be well rested
With you in my system
What can't I be happy about?
You leave a lasting impression on me
Running through my mind
Footsteps on the thought process
Vegan to my appetite
I wanna eat you raw
And be healthy in doing it well past a diet

Play Niagara Falls with lightning bolts

making a joyful noise upon an altar for you

Sacrifice and divine for the (ase) in your embrace

I wish upon Dogon stars plotted

And spiritual time allotted
To fold myself around your coronary muscle
Keeping you warm
All inside

But if these are dreams,
Isn't it a facet of real life?

Ifeanyi Okoro
Coppersoul © 2009

"Upon Sleep" - (Inspiration)

She that knows the certain type of knock upon the window
Rain is familiar
Visits her when it comes
Pouring in with greetings
Meeting her beside the moon and cloudy skies
She wants the wind to be still so
Rain won't be so scattered when it's talking to her
Tapping on the scales of the upside down floor above
She sleeps with Rain
The one thing that gets her wet with excitement...
Matches her color of blue and grey
Like war with her wiles isn't civil enough
Rain comes and goes...she doesn't mind...
Consistent in seasons...no dry spells
Volumes
She sometimes doesn't know how to come alone, so when
Rain comes, she doesn't mind
Strumming to the rhythmic drops drumming the panes
Get her flowing like the streams are down the street
And she moans so like the wind
When it isn't still
She is tilting like so many stars illuminating the black canvas
Rain isn't gonna stop.
Why should it?
She likes to stick her tongue out and taste Rain
it isn't a sin...but a savory tease.
Rain doesn't judge, just leaves a track of love via mud
It seems she doesn't know if Rain and Wind would ever budge
From her space.

But she still felt as if she slept alone.

She doesn't recognize this knock on the window...
On the door
unknown to her usual views of those appearing to be trife
He flashes upon her presence like lightning
Sprinkling compliments and adoration
Swift mind and stronger passion than gale force
Takes hold of her in his nimble, nimbus soft hands
Caresses her like the black canvas sky does the planets
Blanketing the universe
Making sure that he's warming her first
She likes his colors...brown and black
As if he and she weren't proud enough of their flesh
Verbose and humorous
His shadow encases the tiles of the upside-down roof of the house
She was afraid she'd lose herself in the maze like gazes
She doesn't want to sleep with him.
She knows not where he may chance
He reassures his arrival is not a
not a rain check romance
The embrace was electric
The kiss was static
The mood was thunderous
His hypnosis: emphatic
She didn't want him to come...
Not yet...until she came
With reasons to make Rain
Scatter again.
But Rain accompanied their heartbeats with a pounding of its own
With gusts following behind to match their sighs and love tones
Surrounding the house with harmonious fall
And what she thought she would never experience inside
Rushed in storm front fashion out
So now, there is no drought in her soul
Rain was here for a part of a season or so
And he was here for the whole
Upon her slumber
Together
Alone



© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)

"At Midnight"

At midnight showering
there are winds found
tickling your ears

blowing through your locs
kissing your cheek
rolling up in our hues, so billowy
my lips smoke the passion upon yours
at midnight

At midnight dark
deep
there is a howl at the moon...
a breeze or coyote
a high like peyote
this here is a feeling of jazz
an emotion of nocturnal emissions
by sleepy eyes that dream and
release
REM-like streams across the reverie's scope
impregnating creativity
Giving me hope
at midnight

At midnight blue
we sing in sheets satin and purple by notes
lick and saturate
stick together...push and pull apart like gears
greased for years of work ahead
like tightening a relationship
or a hold of arms around your soul
beaming at the brightest of the dark's cracks
electric violets light our backs
we wrestle with flesh
to control our desires
at midnight

At midnight moon
dancing is but a glimmer away
dawn's steps in patterned ripples

painted alongside ocean waters
showing an escalating path to tomorrow
or the next island
where palm trees pencil in love on sandy beach paper
a yearning for nothing but you
the whole 'you'
and nothing but you
so help me God
I judge my spirit guilty of assault
with a deadly weapon
I raised my hand to your heart
and struck gold
I am not remorselful
at midnight

At midnight hope
someone will be reading this poem and
cry
or laugh uncontrollably
better yet
critique its meaning
and for those very reasons
I will bury this under the clouds
so the angels could
capture the capsule memories
of our blending
together
at midnight

Ifeanyi Okoro II

Coppersoul © 2009

"So You Think You Can (Love)?"

"When you are backing up, going on the defensive about everything, you will be unsuccessful, moving forward, on the offensive towards your goals." - Ifeanyi Okoro II

Loving someone will not be a catch phrase.
Loving someone is not a fad, nor is it a trending topics.
Love is not love, but it is life.
Love doesn't speak in the third person.
Love doesn't recognize itself, because it's more than itself alone.

If you are in love, how were you out of it in the first place?
If you fell in it, you should watch your step, because you can fall out of it. Is there a pothole somewhere?
If love just hit you out of the blue, why haven't you called the police yet? If you don't trust the police, why aren't you fighting back?
To be in and out of love means you wear it like underwear. For some of y'all, you don't at wear it at all. Some of you wear the same ones over and over.
Love has no rising sign, no numerology chart, and no Ori or Orisa. However, it has characteristics, certain days when it knows to appear, and how to help and aid when called upon.
Love calls your name, answer, or shut the fuck up when it calls someone else.

Love is not your best friend, your personal interest, nor your lover. Love is too busy being with everyone to just be with you. Love is an adulterer that is favorable.

Unlike you, love hurts. You just have gas, or a tiny boo-boo.

Love goes by many names. Lust is NOT one of them.
Love is bi-racial, bi-sexual, bi-partisan, bi-cycle. No one else is in this world, so shut up.
Love hates to be hated. Hate loves to be loved. So can Love hate Love and Hate love Hate?

Love is a fighter, not a lover.
Love loves Brett Favre, though.
Brett loves the game.

I Cannot Heart Love. I coronary it, sometimes.

You cannot live, breathe, eat, sleep, think love. Why?
Because you'd be evicted, asphyxiated, empty, drowsy, and thoughtless. Love is not tangible.

Most importantly, love is. But at the same time, so is God.
But if God is love, what does that make you?
If you are God, why the hell are you not loving your self?

Are you love?

Could you be love(d)? (You can't be Bob Marley!)
And if so, you are being yourself (which is love.)
Continue to do so.

So, enough. Love isn't a game, and, if it is, why quit? If it was solitaire, quit playing with yourself. And if everyone can win, then celebrate this and the victory with everyone!


© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro

Q & A Games

So last night we played the "What If..." game. It was interesting because what I thought would be said in an abnormal conversation (if there is such a thing with me) was all laid out. She admitted that I wasn't boring, and that she wanted to know more of me. More about me. My admiration for her increase daily, however, there looms an overwhelming feeling that there's going to be some type of rapid change that will smack either one of us square in the head. Speaking of which, I like to poke fun at her head, although it's the cutest :) But, I digress.

The strong emotions I feel are unreasonably growing through talking and building. The game we played brought up future children, relationship tooling, and location. I'm not entirely sure if this is a fantasy waiting to fuck me up royally in the end, or something that is a delayed reaction from painful experiences, into a blossoming revelation of happiness. Oya is right there between us. Our ancestors are right there circling us. It's almost like a tussle for trust. A rumble for real affection.

The "What If" game brought to my attention some things in her past and my past that weren't pretty by any means, but that was the beautiful thing about it. We were ugly in our living because of the energies we were allowing to occupy our souls at that time. It's scary not hearing her, not feeling her by me, not being able to see her everyday in my dreams. We share dreams like pizza, and wash them down with interpretations. This game brings out the best and worst in us, and we play it without hesitations on finishing. We take turns asking and answering "What If" questions like it is an inning in baseball. Better yet, if one of us doesn't have anything ready to ask, it's like a turnover in football, or basketball. Possession is held by the next person. Doubled up. No fouls given. No ejections. We laugh, we contemplate, and we definitely reflect.

That's what's scaring me. The last time I felt this happy, I ended up in a relationship that stung after the initial break-ups, and the final one was like a foot on my neck. From the outside looking in, it doesn't seem like she's looking for lofty goals, but I'm realizing that the more we spread out our desires, the less I am holding off the doubts. I don't like doubting. I don't like fear.

I am a night person...and also an early morning person as well. Hell, if I'm up, I'm up. I love talking (as you can tell) and reading poems and quotes to her. She asks me to sing, and yet I'm not the best person to belt one out. LOL Hell, I'm just singing because my momma sang. I love melody. This woman is putting it back in for me. I have my own tune. She likes it. Question is, "What If" I am not supposed to sing to her? Hell of a question, right? I'm so affixed on her, that I want to submerge my emotions inside of her abyss of pleasure. I sang for my ex a few times, but I never really thought she was receptive. She claimed she loved it. I only sing when I play Capoeira, or when I'm teaching the children in the program new corridos (shorter, verse-laden Capoeira songs) When I read my poems to her, she is seemingly floored. Most of my newer poems are inspired by her. A renewal of my spirit, of sorts. I honestly couldn't muster up a true poem for my recent ex, nor any one of my exes for that matter, because it never came. My inspiration (or muse) usually is not the one I'm seeing or trying to marry. Why the hell is that? As she would say, "We have to remedy that, right away."

We fall asleep talking to each other. We sometimes don't even sleep. If at all costs, we're constantly doing everything that we'd do daily, and just add each other into the equation along the way. One time we talked for 18 hours...I swear it felt like it. It effects our work and our thoughts at times, so we try convincing each other that we must go to sleep. I wish she would, so that way she could tell me more about her dreams. Hopefully, we'd meet inside of each other's dreams and share a bowl of blissful ice cream, you know. She claims that she had a dream eerily (or prophetically) about a person similar to me. I can't tell you if it was accurate or not, because what stopped me was the fact that the first letters of my first and last name (although reversed) matched the person in her dreams. Not to mention the fact that one name was Igbo, and the other was Yoruba. Oddly enough, I study Ifa, and my name is Igbo.

I love her writing. I wish she'd write more. It seems like a female version of my life, minus some horrific experiences that were placed upon her. I don't think I'd be alive, or out on bail if I went through that shit. Maybe it's something about women who've been through pain that attracts me to them, because I feel as if I have to redeem. I think I'll be bold enough to perfect my craft, just because she's not so restrained in telling her story. I should be so lucky to live through and be more confident. She gives me that confidence.

"What If" this is right? "What If" I'm choosing door number 3 in a fail?

Know what's funny? My ex's children had a game we all played called "Imaginiff".

"Imaginiff" (Imagine if) I actually stopped living in my head and started living for the now.

Is her heart the "now"?

Universal Verse Reversal - (She Is)

I am below below when she makes me feel above and I am not beside

She

I am climbing a climb endless ladder-high as I try escaping trapping eyes from

She

I am tied tight to my tongue's twists try to describe cryptic Coptic casing that is

She

She
Hangs on my copper limbs
I grow oil soil with thoughts of her black/slick
I scale to the skies
I am deeper than six feet
digging her whole persona
Reversing my patterns,
Reversing my position, my words,
My love will not stay in park, it's not even in neutral
My drive is there, however,
And there is no brake, no stopping, no rear view
My past is miles back of me
She uses deception in a receptive way
She likes what I say to her when I sing her soul to sleep
With my heart beat on the percussion
My mind on the spirit's sax
Under cardiac arrest
With trumped up charges of trumpet playing crimes
She chimes in with cymbals systematically
This is a grand band soothing her wounds
Swept away with Yansa's broom

I am guilty

She calls for me in the wind and dials up the number

She has my number

I am caught up

A rapture of reciprocity when I deliver my affection

It comes back to take me

She

I am beneath beneath the Earth
She is my fertile ground to keep me rooted
Even as we bear fruit from our roots up.

I stay grounded with her.

She

I am around the round solar symbol of myself
With my faith in my flares and my color as my God
I make my people brown-black-blue-red-yellow-goldenrod
When she mixes with me
I see we two hues make human
And humanity make humility their pledge to us
Under the skies that scream ancient praises
As we kiss the sky
Every morning

I am connected from the disconnected distances that only keep me from

She

I am longing for the short time that is between our meeting place on this Earth's face until I hold

She

I am reversed to birth cause I'm dying to love...

She.

I am sent back to Earth cause Heaven isn't itself without...

She.

I am without motion's emotions until the axis spins to rotate the beginning again with...

In Due Time

This is my first official post as a blogger on this site. I have been posting blogs for a while, however. I'm just not too accustomed to doing so. My first blog isn't a sweet one, nor is it something I'd really like to discuss. Instead, it's a reflection of how I opt to talk online, rather than to people offline.

I have someone in mind, yet my mind isn't a sharing entity. It's likely that I'm going to suffer this September, seeing that I want to do so many things, yet, I am tied up. I'm kicking myself for not being able to mail a present off in time, being financially sunk as of late, and will be commemorating my friend's death five years ago from this date. I'm struggling to recover quick, if at all, from a relationship that dented my heart's door from the kick of another person she's invited in. This blog should be finished within five or so minutes, yet I am behind, due to worrying about correcting myself too damn much on a damn blog!

Anyway, I promise more in-depth writings as the time comes, if I am alive long enough to do so. Who knows where I'll be? Who knows my mind? I can think of one woman. She has captivated me in such short time, and I am failing to understand what she sees in me. I'm always smiling when we talk, and I'm sure to the bone that I'll be able to help her as she has helped me. Her special day is coming up, and I'm willing to sacrifice a lot to just visit her, if not make her feel wanted...especially by me. She told me about having a dream about someone that seemingly had the same characteristics that I shared AFTER she told me. It was a vortex that I was sucked into. But I will give more as the time progresses. Until then, I'm closed. I need to be focused on getting my self right. Or else...