Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts

Sunday, October 31, 2010

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

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

"Without A Leg To..."

"30 poems in 30 days" was a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create in anyway way, shape, or form, with no strenuous, strict rules, started December 15th, 2009, and ended January 13th, 2010.


#22 of 30

One brick
One beam
One slab of concrete
One window seal
One wall
One tree branch
One door threshold
One column
One pillar
Cannot make anything stand
Will never survive without any foundation
And will never make one whole house

Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2010

Thursday, January 7, 2010

"Sleepwalking"

"30 poems in 30 days" is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create in anyway way, shape, or form, with no strenuous, strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, and ending January 13th, 2010.

#14 of 30


Every dream that takes a stroll
Across my lucid landscape
I wonder what it holds in its hands
I wish that it would give me a
Birthday present to erase the past
From behind its back as it hides
Nice surprises I'd already know about
How to fix pain
Patching the torn fabric of a union
Only to
Torch that sumbitch again...
With the right liquids and flame
I don't want too much help
Dealing with my fated future
Band-Aid hopes and repeat apologies
Given due to martyrdom and fault grabs
Throwing my lighter up
Pushing my history of bad relations down
Into a barrel rusted and named
"Ifeanyi"
And let that shit burn inside
Until the ashes reside down in the
Bottom of my heart
And I'll smudge the outsides
With artistic thumbing
And make my desires
Of memories and reveries
Black and proud



Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2010

Thursday, December 24, 2009

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?!?!?!

Monday, December 21, 2009

'Seasons'

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)


Here's #7 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project
Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, Tx


You'd wish that
Gifts and toys would be the
Holiday surprise you'd like to unwrap
And here comes an unraveling
Of a pairing
In a bow and tag
Dresses nice for show
Presented for presents' sake
Burning the yule log at all ends
With your hopes and dreams listed on papyrus
Aflame
And here goes
The tree of past regressions
Tinseled and garland gown
Star
All that glitters
Gone up in smoke.
Nothing merry but the end of
A strenuous wait.

© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

Sunday, December 20, 2009

"Clutter Heart"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)


Here's #6 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, TX

Finding items lost
When placed openly in front
Ideas and love
© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

Saturday, December 19, 2009

"Final In Over Time"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)


Here's #5 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, TX


If one time wasn't enough
The heart dropped yet another close one
This time
No time left
Back and forth
Tied up
Close the whole time, now
Trailing
About a yard away
Sweat drips
Hands clench
It's in motion
Last ditch pass
One attempt
And
She
Deflected...
Me.

Game
Ends.

Love conquers.



© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

Thursday, December 17, 2009

"Breakdown of Words"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)

Here is #3 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project.

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, TX




There's a brainstorm of questions
Pecking at the door like trickling drops
An insatiable inquiry that involves three words
Rain pours with its facial cloudiness
And then comes the tears
And blaming
And hurt
And regressions
And forgiveness
And realization
And...
The ands
The ifs
The buts
What if
There was no such thing as affection?
What if we all played hide and go seek the meaning of life
Under trees made with lies
And grass growing on regret
Drink from the streams of lust when we thirst
This sounds about right, yes?
So why are we banking on pain
To invest in death
Stock up experience but
Do this shit all over again?
I am broke.
No expense for forlorn loves
I give no credit to heartache
No IOUs to ex-mates
But somehow
There's always ands
And there's always an if
If there is no but
Would there be a spiritual lift?
I think people use "but" with another "t"
To get in between a crease of insecurity
Or false security
Or just a piece
But
People misuse "and", replacing "n" with the "d"
So they could combat solutions with more animosity
Tacking on terrible histories to price tag memories
Too high to pay for mentally
What if "if" isn't "if"?
But these two are needed for a shift
If you doesn't feel right...get uplifted
If he cheats... he drifted
If you're clicking on all cylinders...this is gifted bliss
Relationships stay in neutral sifting through bullshit
But
Not all vocab is necessary when loving is in action
So
Satisfy your conversations
With no ifs,
ands,
or buts.
And then you'll see clear skies in each other's eyes
If that's what the weather calls for in your souls
But remember...
Keep you speech short
Leave these words here in December.

© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

"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.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Aquarian Questions The Age

Originally posted from Facebook Notes page, Monday, July 27, 2009 at 2:51am.

*I added on a few things today.


Not in all of my 29+ years have I experienced so many variations and declarations of new relationships, marriages, divorces, moving, staying, murders, sudden deaths, births, financial turmoil, and social uprisings. Is the Age of Aquarius staring to show early signs? Is it that nothing surprises us anymore, or that everything will catch us off guard? What makes these snap turns and judgments happen? Why so much quick change? Big names and idols fall harder, as small countries are showing resolve and revolt. What are your opinions? What do you see as the turning point? Or is this just "life" (scapegoat answer)? Is it astronomy and numerology? Is it a system?

*Questions are popping up in my dream and appearing to me in my eyesight. What is it about this year that is spiraling down for this black man in relationships? Why am I still working for peanuts when I am more than the elephant's show? Where will I live next? Is my health in jeopardy? I can only explain the situation hat I've ended up in. Sharing a house, commuting to the job that's only for a short period of time (for meager pay), and being able to get myself together in a slow way. It still feels distant and detached. For now, I will let the ori lead the way. I should have in the beginning. I know now that egun and some helping hands cannot be a deterrent for my situation. The stars don't hold me back, nor does a decision from divination and casting. I am guided by my soul.

How about you? What are you guided by?

Sunday, November 22, 2009

I BeLOnG (2nd Edition)

So I was going over a situational conversation, of sorts, with my lady the other day, and she brought up something she said she saw in a movie, (Not sure what the movie was again, but I will correct this if found) called "The Test", that fit this predicament. A male named Johnny came across a female that he felt was very compatible for him. His friend, Honey, was overjoyed at his newfound love, but after a few conspicuous calls from his love to him, she warned him about a possible dishonest result in that relationship. Johnny denied it, and played it off, but (insert movie reference) it was noticeable that when he let her in the passenger's side of the car, like a gentleman, she stayed put, not opening the door for him when he cycled to his driver's side. I know what you're thinking..."What's the big deal?" I thought the same, but really that wasn't the doom for his relationship. Honey broke down the scenarios and wack-ass excuses she gave to him, and he still couldn't figure it out as quick...sometimes you gotta let them feel the pain, right?

One thing about this disturbed me on two fronts:
1: Are women and men STILL grading each other on tests, as if many have failed an exam on love or some shit? And,
2: Do men and women care about what women really think when it comes to emotional bonding?

The femmes are on this like, "Duh, this is a no-brainer! The first 15 minutes will decide if..."
Yeah, you got it. You're like a Rorshach or Litmus design now, cat! They might even put you in a bar graph. What's the purpose of gauging EVERYTHING, ladies? I've heard it from all sides whenever men and women get together about what women like or decide. I wouldn't blame anyone if it wasn't so much silly goals and/or "traits" needed. Wallet, house, and shaft size are the most popular choices amongst the trife women I've noticed. The more serious women minds and education, subtle, but firm emotions, and laughter. Sex is kind of a buffer, considering so many males have truly screwed this dynamic up (no pun intended).

The fellas here are like, "What's the purpose? They're unlimited amounts of..." Yeah, you guessed it. He sees you like you're a resource, or fish. What's the purpose of trying to collect numbers and addresses just to release your seed every now and then? I'm all for sex, but really, it's just stupid how I see the misuse of words and physical stimulation with women and their worth for a fleshtastic experience.

There was a column that tested us back when I was at The University of Houston (Go Coogs!) that mainly asked if we all got jobs, cars, money, homes, maintenance of our bodies and education, just for the "ill nana"? (Not in those words, exactly.) Surprisingly, the males on campus overwhelmingly agreed and didn't give a fuck. So much for uniformity in common sense. Women are not commodities, nor are they trinkets and towel wipes for your seed. So why so much rush to get the golden good when you cannot seem to be satisfied emotionally, you ask? Bragging rights. Like A college football game of sex. Who gets to the red zone and dominates? Who scores frequently? Who's number one?

Just imagine our ancestors screaming to be let go, while their oppressors raped them in bunches. Breed you with some random African woman. Put that into your mind. Where's your luxury tax now, brotha? In fact, all of this may even spur the white man's question of "Who's your daddy?" in so many terrible ways...chattel ways, even. After all, sexual deviance came from their mistreatment of us. Their scores weren't tallied by "how many" but "how often".

Women, masculinity used to be sexy when men used it used properly. Don't tear him down because of his failures...especially in front of the others. Build and find out how to resolve these issues. Remember, Sally Sue is willing to put up with his dirty boxers if you don't correct his stance. Nurture the emotions, but don't neuter his dreams. men, do NOT mistake your black woman for a run-over, neither a master. She's there to deal with out petty shit when we complain. Think about what the hell she's experienced since the inception of women! Don't compromise so easily and continuously, but be able to compromise when needed.

Not many men are gonna sit back and be honest about their sexual and amorous experiences and how they've truly messed over the femmes. Women, on the other hand, will spill beans to express their anger. The new thought now days are those of the women who consider themselves "not feminine" about it (misogynist terms - "bitching about it" or being emotional). The mentality some have to say. "I don't care, I was trying to get mine," is so dead. It's become a thing of novelty to discuss being a "cougar" and such, seeing that the men of the past were heralded as champions of the fairer sex, if they were elderly, unappealing, downtrodden, plump or rotund, nerdy, and downright promiscuous. Ladies all know too well the terms given to the opposites by the males (fat, ugly, man-hating, whore, slut, freak, and fuckable). Nothing desirable. Either you have light-skin complexion, or your "assets" are huge. Other than that, silly-ass fellas are looking for that good 'head' game, or if you will at least let him and his 'patnas' run through you like a football team does a cheerleader banner. That there is a test of true emotional compatibility. Do you like her nose hair? You mind his bad jokes? You want to smell her breath in the morning? Does you need to sport that lace front? (Sasha Fierce jab) Give men some credit. The good ones, of course. They will watch your children and cook you food if you give them the time of day, which isn't spent in the sheets. Trust, I have done so, (plus, I can cook)!

Jozen Cummings, (also known to his peers as "Jock-itch Jo" or "Jozie, the Two-Dollar Ho" -
@jozenc on Twitter) if you choose to divulge in his shit), actually was interviewed for his ways on misusing women and how easy it was for him to do so. he's not the only one, and before you say "It takes two to tango.", one may manipulate the dance floor, music, sometimes the libation in any situation. Furthermore, it's a form of rape when you do it to devalue and abuse the rights of the woman in any way. Mentally, AND physically (said here, first). Karrine Steffans catapulted the outing of men (particularly rappers) in her book, expressing how men were in the bed, and what their characteristics were sex-wise. As if being a video vixen isn't demoralizing enough, she content in her path to becoming well known throughout the U.S. as "Superhead", not discouraging younger women from these perils. Then again, the book speaks for itself on her character. This African now? We're on that?

As I bring this to a close, I started to go back in my past to analyze how (or if) I have done this to any women in my past. As far as I can remember, I think I am in the clear. Depending on the mutual feelings and the time it happened, I cannot say I've been that way. Or should I? What matters is this, tests are not relegated to paper and/or evaluations on a visual scale. The true tests come when you are laying beside your loved one in the morning and say, "Wipe the damn crust out ya eyes! Oh yeah...Good morning, sweetheart!"

Unlock the door to your partners, side of the relationship.
More to come.

Polished.

"Against Forfeited Feelings"

I'm gonna try something new here...inspired by two people, actually.

Regina Agu, and a blogtastic woman who's Twitter alias is '@slim_goodie'.

I am going to simply empty what comes to mind, within ten minutes or so, everyday. Oh yeah, I will not always follow the English?APA/MLA writing guidelines...so sue me. I'm looking to do this to jog the memory a bit. This might continue past the new years...who knows? I do wanna thank '@nubianwriter' for tweeting about poetry!


the face shows anguish that I cannot see
cannot hear unless it's in my dreams.
It's synonymous with dreary attitudes and
un-heartfelt kisses to the back of the neck
as if it's just a fuck

painting pictures of despair
pays enough for bus fare
a penny for your thoughts on canvas and
spray-tagged walls
graffiti on the bridge if not for spaghetti string dresses with
cling-on pasts and Teflon cares
they snag it from the air

Why sister gotta get no-good
Why sistas gotta bet on no-better?
Weather is whether you like to make it rain
fists and arguments
the affections of the soul and flesh
separated by church and statements of
Jesus working it out
testimony
after ya mans wore it out
test of faith
after ya moms bore you out of second class citizenship love
on the backburner of freedom expressed

by constant depression and distress

I confess,
even my female orisa got me twisted
Changing my mind after i see my queens give brothers brain
then explain the game to the shame he once called (denied)
his son...sometimes daughter...
sum of all things times double the trouble
equals mass hysteria
History repeats, wash, rinse, repeats, spin
doctors trying to work on your self-image without
really examinin' the in.
So pills now become a sin

you pray on Christian Brothers to bring you back again
Come again?
take time to dust off the seat, and not the seated
conceit is only leaving you defeated
i'll be damned if one hasn't sunk to new lows
and old heights of bullshit just to seek closure
or one more screw turn
shades of life isn't skin, or skins, or sags in skinnies
or bling and swag-brag
she can't date your car, nor brand name tag apparel

Man, brothers should be looking to the stars to earn
like astronomers
reaching for the sky without the blunt smoke stack train
off track, but you blow my high for the same damn thing?
what's your point? love/all
stop the racket trying to ball with no court in sight
net gain to maintain our light, right?
but...

ladies, stop trying to pull men's chain about
him pushin' a band on ya finger
marriage is in the mental.
put a ring around that
not a pole on it, for it
fuck it
nor forget it

this here...this shit right here???
is.
so how about that shot of happiness and laughter?
it's an open bar to be raised.
a toast to intoxicated bliss
cheers to no lingering jeers.
Hold on to hands.
on deck
of cards played...two of hearts


Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2009

Saturday, November 14, 2009

I BeLOnG II (5 Day Edition)

So blah blah blah, meeting on Monday. The drummer came in, no Sarah. She is a professional dancer, you know. From Uganda, no less! The South African dance teacher came to replace her, no big. It went well. It's good to see Africans reconnect. However, the young boys are playing a bit too much, while the girls are getting serious. Where have we heard this before? yeah, I understand there is a such thing as a childhood, but really, when you have a Sunday like we did previously (hearing about last Friday's runaway from Blackshear Elementary School, a school already mired in controversy over an apparent attempted suicide by an 8 year-old, and a young student sexually assaulted by three trifling-ass men in a tinted car right near our block) this seems to be small. Seems. There is nothing that guarantees these young men will make it here. Everyone's a damn 'doughboy' (thanks to Jeezy and Gucci and Wayne, etc.). Makes no damn sense that we blame hip-hop. Really, blame those who utilize hip-hop for the sexually explicit and derogatory comments that I hear sung by these young boys coming into my classroom.
But I digress. Tuesday, I got a taste of Project Row Houses' "competition". These MacGregor Elementary children are extra special, yet their demeanor leaves one to think that music keeps them calm and at bay, for they are SUPER hyper! I thought my group was amped. Emaniah Shinar (some African man in extravagant clothing and equally extravagant behavior) has molded both of these youth groups into a steel drumming machine. They have learned at least four, if not five songs. Simply ridiculous. MacGregor showed out.The announcement for the performance dates were given, and needless to say, I hope we can improve before the 23rd of April (commercial promo at MacGregor) ...we will be there Saturday and Sunday at IFEST (Houston International Festival) throwing down. Shinar has done wonderful things that I have backed him for since he touched base in 3rd Ward (or since I've seen him). He's also put me in a position to re-evaluate everything I choose. At a point in my life where I suffered a huge blow to my confidence and relationship, he shed light onto an appearance of a certain "sista" that always shows up towards the end of my relationships. Of course, he even tried to pair us together, but that history with her goes back, and respectfully, I think she is here for guidance and a shoulder to lean on.
Again, let's skip this and move on to Wednesday. Art and writing with two instructors with an Indian background. I was thinking Ms. Keya (Mitra) was actually indigenous and of this land (what some would consider "Indian" as compared to Cherokee), however "Mitra" should have been some sort of giveaway. She is so mild-mannered. Maybe too mild-mannered. She looks like a movie star that could play a teacher. But she always gets the children crunk enough to jot some lyrics or bars. You heard right. I have never been so amped to see my group scribble some rap lyrics and poetry. Summer and Amaya always put in the silliest and most creative. I love it when the parents come to hear their children rhyme. Keya must have caught my old-school hip-hop vibe/poetry aura, because she's giving them Nikki Giovanni and Sugar Hill Gang!! Or is she just "ill"... hmmm.
On to Thursday and Friday. Thursday, we discussed Lemonade Day (May 2nd) with the children, and, oh yes, they are stoked (totally, dude)! I'm hoping it will be better than last year's, seeing that a young sista outside of the ASP sold the unique lemonade we offered like it was life insurance, while our smartest and straight-forward sistas in the program bickered, and almost threw down. *SMH* Everyone has great ideas, and we (Jesse Lott, Sara, Corisha, Daja and I) taste-tested lemonade varieties, built and painted the stand, and stayed late night to celebrate our project culmination, which was later discovered to be thrown away this year. This group I have is ready to tackle the great job ahead, and not scared to go at it, "feet first". One parent offered her services in managing the crew, (part-time event and catering planner), but I cajoled her into just putting in work as they've always done, no more, no less. Sorry, I love my group like you love your children, parents, but, yeah...they are mine when it's project time. ONLY. *laughing*
Friday - Good God Almighty on the throne of everlasting truth and power...I witnessed a beatdown (not physical, per se) of epic proportions: My 2nd-4th grade girls smoked the daylights out of the boys. Nothing new, right? What about these same girls beating 7th and 8th graders?!? Seriously, I remember when it was cool to find an uspet here or there. Now, it's rampant! It's becoming a trend to upend! Zipporah, the smallest of my 2nd grade girls, was fast enough to beat some of my second grade boys by at least a few yards. Artizia, 4th grader, only passed up a checkpoint before losing to Dujuan, another 4th grader, and the only boy to stay on course to win the title "Project Row Houses' fastest kid." Then I lost the door key (how Esu is that?!?) I had to explain to Ms. Lee about how the key got lost. I mean up and disappeared. I know that's gonna be more fire from the church about that. But I think they can cover a 5 dollar expense as such, seeing the big flat screen TV in the reception center must have been a much needed prayer tool. *rolls eyes* Anyway, the children went home, and I was building with my homie, T. He's still young, but able to make some room when he can focus. After that, I was dropped off at the train station going to Downtown Houston for one of the greatest nights I had. Sort of.
I won four Aqua Teen Hunger Force (LIVE) tickets off of Twitter (See? It is useful!) and scored some Houston Luau Party reservations for seven people three days before. Since I have such great friends that wanted to join along, (Grand total = 0) I made the stop at Hard Rock. Only it wasn't AT Hard Rock, because I thought House of Blues was located in that same area!!! Well, I regrouped, and I started on to HOB.
Never been there.
Will be going back.
God Bless Houston, Texas.
I've heard about this supposed bowling alley and whatnot here, but I thought they mean either in the City Hall area or somewhere just a bit past the way. There's a freaking BOWLING ALLEY DOWNTOWN. It's like the Sims exploded here! I saw ladies in bikinis and grass skirts (sadly some pudgy white fellas as well *shudders*) and others dressed up to the letter. Obviously, BOTH events were going on. I didn't check the time beforehand when it said, "Luau starts @ 7 pm and ends @ 2 am". Conflict. ATHF started at...8 pm. and I was missing about 15 minutes of it already trying to locate the damn place. No matter, ATHF first...
OMFG
These cats that created this show:
A: Did a "Show us your Meatwad" contest
B: Acted out the characters with large hand puppets and dummies
C: Cussed like sailors on weekend leave
D: Also created Squidbillies
E: Got an audience member to participate with an aquatic puppet making sexual advances on him.
Answer?
F: All of the above.
I would tell you more, but let's just say the Luau got me too crunk. That is another blog in itself.

Ifeanyi Okoro II

I BeLOnG (Grand Edition)

Usually, I would write my feelings (no matter how horrible or high-spirited) in a poem form. Right now, I am just going to let this go.

Warning: The following briefing may unnerve the reader or readers of this blog. If so, oh the fuck well. This is an informative blog, not a "watch your feelings" blog.

***The nerve of some people...MOST people...to have a skewed view of my life, when NO ONE HERE has lived a perfect life. The strikes against me are starting to mount out. The naysayers and speculators are having at it on my happening's behalf. Let's see the next move. I am sick of it. I know my Iwapele isn't perfect, however, I am not a fucking imbecile. I'm not proud of my past, but I can damn sure place it above a lot of folks who have the flip-top nerve to judge me and my moves. I would love to write this down on paper, better yet, say it to everybody's face. some of the people I want to put back in their car seats are not available. The people are stacking up in my head count. I'm loving the force. I'm revelling in the process of elimination I am about to level upon these people. Fuck embracing change . I am the change. Embrace me, and I will shake your foundation. I'm going to blog the inner thoughts in the form of how I haven't done so during my poems. That is very unfortunate that I have to do so, seeing that I would be comfortable with just being me. Some people aren't. This blog then, is for you.

Let's first start of with social networking.

I'd like to say that I like the Facebook and Twitter networks that utilized information and the world events for both social and political landscapes. MySpace did so for an entertainment aspect. However, like most sites that sprout with the latest...thy shall fall by the wayside with fatal flaws. It appears to be fun for the novice, yet, destructive for the old hands. Overall, it's becoming seriously played out. Porn spam, ignorant-ass computer worms and viruses, bickering, overt pride without personal opinions, standout narcissism, and fantasies are rampant in the following sites I have encountered (past and present) : BlackPlanet, MySpace, MrBlunt, Facebook, Twitter, and "Yahoo!" Chat Rooms/Groups. Really, life should take a break from the surreal and focus on the real. I have had relationships from both landscapes take good and bad turns. I am now realizing I don't need a "revitalization" or "awakening" every damn three days, just to go back into a funk. If I'm in it, I should know the proper steps to get the fuck out of it. That's it. Why are we obsessed with help on and offline? What is it about this Age of Aquarius that people don't get about changing or staying steadfast in their own opinions, and not of someone else's? I am part of this group, for the simple fact that I was once usurped in the lore of online entertainment. I don't blame anyone but myself. Some of you should do that as well. BLAME yourself.

So what if people constantly have something to say about what you say. Fuck em, right? Well, let's analyze this. Many of the people online are in a trance, constantly relying on these networks to give them instant escapism form their own lives. In turn, they add their lives to it, looking for the sympathetic few to comfort and/or participate in getting their lives straight. Get over it. I, again, add my own body into that pool, making sure to put an asterisk beside this year. Look, if you haven't had the first experience of being a self-fuck, give it time. I don't constantly say silly shit like "NAGL" (not a good look), ""fail", "failure", "FML" (fuck my life), "GTFOH" (get the fuck outta here), and all the now-cool ass shit that is overrunning the once-creative ways of showing your reactions, like "lol" and "smh". If I do, more oft than not, I am being derisive, or may have used it for the first time. Either way, emotions are now totally computerized.
The following are some major ways to get you caught up:

*Make sure you stay to one alias, or one ID. It's always best to be yourself (from experience, putting up one of your favorite band's name as a screen ID will attract some wanted and unwanted attention, even if you also did it for a spin on your personality).

*Make a choice. Be serious or lighthearted most of the time, or both with a nice balance and handle on yourself. Don't fake either one.

*Avoid drama queens/kings, firestarters, and filthy net personalities.

*Speak mostly from your own perspective, but also be open to others.

*Stop fucking quoting and posting pics 90% of the time. Do it with discretion

*If you're gonna hound somebody about something, keep your goal safe. Make sure YOU have clean sheet. It's best you DON'T hound anyone, frankly.

*Leave your beliefs/feelings at the door if you don't want to be offended or emotionally torn to pieces easily. This is a different beast.

*Don't spy. Yes, it's JUST like stalking (unless it's your admirer or love interest being unfaithful and you have right reason). Even then, make sure you have good reason and facts.

* Be weary of aggressive texting and/or questionable activity that may affect you and whom you deal with. (See Craigslist Killer and the the girl on MySpace that committed suicide)

*Get the fuck off of the Internet!!! Unless your job requires that you use the Internet, no more than 14 hours a week online, seriously. Trust me, I have been a victim of the bullshit that I got sucked into for being on it for more than four hours in one day. Go outside and do something, like....live!

This reads like an instructional book, however, some of you bastards out there desperately need this. For those who have a grip on reality and the superinformation highway...congrats!

The irony? How many will ignore this to continue on to the fuckery that is "social networking ruination"? If you got this far, post your opinions. Or not.


I. Okoro II

Thursday, November 12, 2009

"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

Sunday, November 8, 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

Saturday, October 10, 2009

(Im)perfect 10

The first 10 days of October. My sister would be approaching another year towards 30 (after me, of course), I would be missing the Capoeira workshop with the gang in Austin (9th-11th), and these days featured a dream that came to fruition about someone that's been on my mind since my break up with my ex.

These days approached so rapidly. I thought I would be able to accept the usual denial to talk or see the children from her, considering they weren't of my flesh, but of my heart, and we were split up. Then today happened. On a special day for the oldest child...a day after my sister's special day. She is celebrating two days out on he night as her fun as we speak.

So how would this present pan out for me, even though it's not my solar return?

I went to work, not expecting anything out of the ordinary, except to help host for the 15th anniversary of Project Row Houses' existence. Everyone that helped build this program and art-specified system pretty much showed up if they were available. The art was great, the children loved the outside, and best of all, I got paid for my toiling. Then I saw what I thought was something unbelievable and soul-shaking. At least to me. Corey, Cody, his brother, and his friend, Quincy. Walking towards my direction. But I didn't see the ex (Corey and Cody's mother), her new man, and most importantly, my sunshiny happiness in a sweet girl's form, Chloe. When I did see her, I was paralyzed, literally, in my position. My heart raced, and my hands tightened. She saw me, and that was about as far as we could share happiness. A few feet away.

It was so bad, that her eyes were saying "Remember me? Give me a hug, or call my name. at least!). Could she read my mind, saying "I miss you, babygirl! It's okay to give me a hug."

Seeing who I consider as still my Goddaughter, (regardless of circumstance) , Chloe, I was torn beyond repair. Not to give her a giant hug. Not to let her ride atop my shoulders like I used to when we'd go shopping or to the park. Anywhere for that fact. Not to look at her drawings and talk about her dreams that inspired them. Not to see her smile and not feel uncomfortable doing so, due to her mom and her new beau walking around, and not my hands holding her mother anymore.

Seeing Corey and Cody was just as difficult, staring at the boys, growing up, being their silly selves. Hell, I even missed Quincy, Corey's friend. In fact, that's who I saw first. Corey and Quincy. I thought I was hallucinating. I thought my dreams were coming to fuck with my head again. Instead, the dreams that I've been having in rapid succession have become reality. Just different scenery, and a slightly changed scenario.

I sensed that Corey didn't want to tell me about what I already knew, which was his mother getting engaged to her long-awaited-but-profusely-denied-truth-of-who-she-really-wanted-forever husband-to-be. I also sensed that Cody wanted to tell me as a secret in my ear, but Corey, knowing me like a book, prevented him from doing so. Maybe he wanted to tell me something different. maybe that his mother's new man was here. Maybe that she secretly said something to him and it's burning his ears to hold. However, I don't have the spirit to stomach news of anything else, except on how the children were doing.

Which set me well...
Temporarily.

I instantly called my sweetheart in confusion on what to do. i didn't want to see "her" nor "his" face, definitely. However, I was doubled over in pain and anticipation on seeing Chloe. NUMEROUS times she wanted to come talk to me. She even pointed to me several times to her new friends and strangers. Most likely, to let everyone know I was her godfather. I miss it when she called me "dad".

This is painful to type.

I was welling up with tears talking to Corey, hearing about his struggles with Algebra (I'd help him in math, always), his voice cracking and varying, his excitement of meeting me today, on his birthday, because it was some type of psychic feeling he had. He said he felt that it wouldn't be the last time I'd see him. I'm split on that. Honestly, I didn't expect the "family" to show up here. I didn't wish that. I actually just wanted to talk to them and see how they were doing, and I even sent their mother a message through the text and email to wish them well. I got a lot more than what I asked for. I questioned him about if he'd thought he'd never see me again, and he threw that notion away immediately. I told him to be happy, if he already wasn't, for his mother getting engaged. He was focused on football, being a year away from high school, and definitely about the electric guitar and clothes information we were talking about. It was like old times, just rushed. The air was thick with awkwardness and a wanting to talk. Cody was a hard case to deal with after the first time his mother wanted me out...actually, several. He became stubborn and unresponsive, which that is an unhealthy and volatile Cody. His mother once called me back to talk to him, and we patched things up along with calming Cody down. The five of us always had meeting when things got out of hand, or when we wanted to have family time. Cody showed me how to skateboard -- no lie. He let me know that he was failing, (I'm hoping he's kidding, or lying heavily for attention, which isn't cool, but understandable), and constantly showed me a snail with some grass and wheatgrass in his bag. I loved how they always collect bugs and insects. No fear. Unlike their mother and anything small that crawls. I'd always laugh when she'd run away, or asked me to kill it.

This time, I felt like the one who was running. Escaping.

Everywhere I went, rather it was the installations, or the main two-story, I either saw the couple, or the children. Mainly, it was Corey and Quincy. One house I saw Chloe alone from the group, exited to the next one, saw Corey and Quincy in the next one, Cody outside jump roping, and narrowly avoided going into the same house as the ex and her man. Why was II like this again? Have I slipped back into a state of worthlessness? Was I not ready to face the change again? Or was it a prayer answered, but not recognized, or not exactly how I wished it to be? Corey and I shared a bond that young boys and "fathers" had that were unbreakable. He relayed his thoughts (on what obviously something told to him by his mother) to me, mentioning that (after I apologized to him for my imperfections) he understood that it was wanting to go out and be free. I was hurt by the comments that were said, cause that wasn't my deal with the family. I loved to be with them. Late night movies, evening bike rides, four-square, park walks, IHOP dinners or breakfasts, shopping (especially when it was just the boys), reading time, video games (I mean, I am a kid at heart when I'm with them), and how we all stuck around during Hurricane Ike and the madness that surrounded the Election. A funny moment came when my friend, Yvette, came over to talk with me and we conversed about the situation. She tried to coax me over there, and made a slight at if they were looking over here, or were trying to come over, that I should pretend to be her boyfriend. Hahaha! Nice one, although Yvette is a beautiful woman (@YvesStLapaint - Twitter), and her daughter absolutely loooooves some "Mr. Res" - (Ha!) , I felt obligated not to over-dramatize this. I wouldn't know if it did work though. That would include me asking if she and her new man were "ok".

I'm trying to wrap my head around seeing them so close to never. This may be the last time I get to see them. I pray not, but if so, then it was bittersweet. My boss even slipped in a comment, seeing if I was okay, after recognizing they were here. I mean, I pretty much walked out with them, only a few yards away from where the new couple were. I would have loved to hug Sunshine (Chloe), my Chlo-burger, I'd call her. I am terrified to see when she grows up and she may never recognize me, or for that fact, doesn't want to. Her laughter was so odd, but familiar. Her smile was always a deal breaker. She suckered me into a lot of things. Hell, her birthday is only a few days after mine. We even share our moods and excitements the same way. She didn't hesitate to tell everyone who I was to her. I think she didn't like to call me "Brother Res" (an adoptive name given to me by the Row House families), but she loved to call me dad. My final memory of her was of me seeing her skate (which she and her mother taught me...actually, Chloe did). But the lasting one will always be when she looked at me when a waitress asked her if I was her dad (cause we both had locks). Today, she had on her mother's purple jacket, and it was one of my faves. I liked when she wore it, seeing purple is my favorite color. I wonder if she still wears the shirt I got her for Christmas (they celebrated).

Of course, my ex and her new man greeted everyone we both knew and worked with. I don't think she wanted to come near me, however she conveniently found ways of walking towards my area...with him. She said she'd never come to Project Row Houses again, because she knew I was working here. She even asked me if I still worked there. Maybe it was time, because everything she wanted came to her, quickly. A possibility of a husband, career pay advancement, a new vehicle (even though that was so packaged with him), and maybe even a new house. The tarots that my friend, @khimmy_J read for me months ago, mentioned that I may secretly wish that she would fail in this relationship, and that would make the relationship between us strained in a possible mend of a future friendship. I was on automatic when I met some newer people, and even better, as one person, meditation, rituals, and a lot of Capoeira helped me push this ill feeling to the side. Seeing them only makes me think about why I should be happy.

I need to do more for me in order for me to be spiritually free. I cannot expect her to be miserable, even if it was a blame game. Miserable is still miserable. I don't want the children to forget me. I even told Corey I loved them, as he was the first and last one I saw as the "family" left. I wanted to cry again. I am happy that I got to hug him. Cody kind of felt odd. But as Chloe tried to approach me, all I could get was a smile from her. 5 feet apart from each other. staring at each other. Truthfully, I would give anything to have my Chloe with me. She feels like my first born. The involvement with children is integral in any relationship that has any. The female may take that as a plus, or a minus, depending on the situation.

When February comes, (more than likely the last time I would get to say "Happy Birthday" to anyone in that family, before she abruptly locks the door of history on me), I hope to hear or see Chloe. If I can just bargain that for fame or importance anywhere, I would give it up for my little girl. For any, or all of them.

For now, I will be going to sleep, with the notion that this may be the last time I dream, see, hear or even have the opportunity to reunite with them.

I love you Corey, Cody, and Chloe (Sasori, Yo-yo, and Sunshine).

I hope somewhere inside you still love me.

Dad - (Ifeanyi)

Monday, October 5, 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