wonder

I wonder if he knows me.

I mean I know he knows about me.
I know he knows what I’m about. 
I know he listens when I speak. 
And when I don’t.

But..

I wonder if he knows what I don’t. 
I wonder if he hears what I won’t. 
I wonder if he sees when I cope 
silently and privately with the impossible.

I wonder if he knows what he wants when he says he wants me.
I wonder 
and then he smiles.
And I think, 
he can’t know; how could he?

If he knew, how could he smile so serenely? 
How could he touch so tenderly? 
How could he contain my carcass with such confidence?

Then I wonder how much power he has. 
I’ve seen him move mountains. 
And I’ve witnessed him feed field-fulls of fraught nonbelievers his truth until they were no longer famished and frail. 
But is he a healer? 
If I touch the hem of his garment,
Will I be cured, or fall further into torment?
Can a dead dame be brought back to life or aren’t such marvels frozen in the time capsules we call theologies?

or is he my savior?

I wonder.

I wonder, because I’m broken. 
And no matter how many magicians I make my master
a miracle has yet to be performed.
Instead, I leave each false prophet more broken than before.
But I wonder if he could be any different.
And I wonder how I would know if he was.

If only I could taste his victory. 
If only I could sense his pride.
If only I could be what he sees when he envisions me at his side.
But I can’t.
So I wonder.
About this wonder.

In awe.

24 december 2012.

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socu

written for the introduction to Yoash Victorious’s Season of the Come Up EP. 
the season of the come up is not just a record. it’s not just a movement.
it’s a declaration made by the millions of minds that feel it’s their time.
too many of us have been denied what is rightfully ours
because we’re too blinded by dreams deferred and hopes devoured. 
not that we don’t have the strength within to win, 
but somewhere along the way we became cowards.
but now, we’re sick and tired of keeping our power confined in our pain. 

it’s time to unchain the change ingrained in our veins and let it rain. 
quenching the thirst of the earth, birth worth, and make it plain.
cus alterations can’t be made if our ways stay the same. 
and we can’t defy defeat if we answer to her name
I’m just sayin..
instead of tryna fix the rules, it’s time to change the game, stop playin. 
if you want to rearrange the scheme of thangs you cain.

I mean you can.
I mean you’re able to kill anything that threatens your will to survive. 
so shift your mental gear; take it out of neutral and put it in drive.
come alive! we’re kneeling

I mean pleading
I mean kneading knowing into being. 
and we’re in needing of some soldiers whose hearts are also bleeding. 
no more weeping. without seeking. a solution. 
no more distractions. 
no more insufficient reactions.
no more chit chattin without action. 
and no more actin.
as a matter of fact, retract the tracks of a change to come from your musical rack until you recognize that it’s time to make it happen. 

it’s time to rise up 
against that which falsely defines us.
time to leave behind fractured frames of mind and all the wrong done us.
time to deny the decline with which life has inclined us put up.
time to quit copying and pasting passivity; it’s time to cut up or shut up.
in other words,
it’s time for the come up.

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Weep for Me

this poem was inspired by Sam Cooke's rendition of 'Willow Weep for Me'. Its secondary inspiration is Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree.

There once was a man named Mr. Row
Who grew up neglected, shy and alone.
Who liked peanut butter sandwiches and found exploring to be joyous,
And who’s very best friend was the wayward forest.
Life wasn’t easy for Mr. Row
Whom trouble seemed to follow everywhere he’d go.
But he never was taught how to deal with his pain
So when he felt his first sadness, he turned to the rain:

”
Rain cloud weep for me.
Release your waters upon the trees.
They’ll catch my sadness
In the hollows of their leaves,
Then send them away
To get caught in the breeze.
I’m not one to beg 
And I’m not one to plead.
But I’m imprisoned by heartbreak
And I need to be freed.
”

Now the forest was not due for rain for a while.
But the rain cloud knew Row from his days as a child.
And it never had seen the poor boy so distraught.
And against better judgement did what it thought it ought not.
The cloud full of air had no water to spare.
But it squeezed out some rain for the little one there.
The young one said “Thank you” and returned to his play.The rain cloud now wrought by its own troubling pain.

It wasn’t too long before the now grown boy fell again.But this time the wound was much much deeper in.
His sadness returned, and to nature did he.
Only this time he turned to the willow tree:

“
Willow, weep for me.
Your branches reach the river naturally.
While you’re down there, release my pain
Just this once; I won’t ask again.
I tried to ignore my broken heartbeat,
But each tear I cry takes more of my peace.
And you’re already bending so low to the earth,
Just grant me this favor and save my self-worth.
“ 

The willow listened to his logic and found it to be sound,
So it bent even lower, touched its branches to the ground.
Cracking it’s trunk as it stretched further than it should,
The willow did what no one else would.It lifted the man from his now trembling knees
Then returned to the river, ever bound for the sea.
The willow whispered gently to the waters below
A message of sorrow for his friend Mr. Row.

The river received the message and the gentleman was glad;
It seemed as if by magic he was no longer sad.
So he briefly thanked the willow and went on about his day
Leaving behind a now worn willow tree who gave a broken man his way. 

Oh, but the man had forgotten
That sadness strikes more than twice,
But he would be reminded
A little later on in life.

It didn’t seem long to the man, now old, before he experienced grief once more.
Only this was a hurt much greater than he had ever known before.
While crying he remembered the willow and the message it had delivered,
So he gathered up his heartache and sauntered to the river:

“
River, weep for me.
My tears and your waters will blend fluidly.
You’re already sending troubled waters away.
So adding mine to yours can’t be too much to pay.
I know I’ve hurt before, but it’s too much this time.
I need you to come ease the strain in my life.
I’ll nevermore ask you to pay for my sins.
Just this once and I can prepare for the next offense.
”

The river pondered long on the old man’s request.
It was moved my the tale, but wanted to do what was best.
After thinking a while, the river came to halt.
The old man was misled, but it wasn’t his fault.
So it offered him a compromise.It inhaled deeply, then released a sigh.
He looked at the man, down on his luck.
“First,” said the river, “you have to get up”.

”
Find yourself a boat, and if there isn’t one, build it;
If you want to protect your heart, then first you must shield it.
Enter the boat, and slide onto me.
Then grab your oar and take your own lead.
It’s important you lean to steer life on your own-
You’re name, after all, is Mr. Row.
Now, there will be times when you feel neglected
And things don’t go as you may have expected.
But the next time you’re hurting, don’t beg trees and the weather
Just come to me, and we can cry together”

The old man listened intently to the instructions of the river,
And smiled in his heart at what he had been given.
He built his boat and took it to the stream,
But once he returned he no longer had need
For the tears of the river, for he had none of his own-
Only contentment in having what he had been shown.
The man slid on the waters nonetheless,
To weep with the river, released from distress,
Tears of joy for having found a friend
Who had helped him to find the peace within. 

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preview/snippit: the huntress

a couple days ago I began writing a piece that I then decided to expand into a longer allegory. the whole story, entitled "the huntress", is yet incomplete, but here is the initial segment that both informs the larger work and serves as an interesting tale on its own. it's actually my favorite part (so far). enjoy.



the lion king (or these eyes)
I packed my bags today.
All I left him was a tear-stained pillow, soaked in the painful confusion released from the eyes whose glow once belonged to him.

These eyes used to be my glory: a huntress's greatest weapon when hunting for the most prime and challenging game. When they caught his they trapped him like a netted lion tricked into bondage while searching for water in the south Saharan desert he calls home.

Bright whites barely seen beneath wide irises enticed and flagged him down. Irises so deep and tempting he nearly drowned in the brown. Pupils so sharp they cut him loose from his natural trappings while originating one anew. And lids whose closings were the scariest thing he knew because he quickly became accustomed to these eyes.

Look again.

I had done my research: lions have such sharp claws, thick fangs and hungry will-power that taming them is a fantasy and simply holding them is a temporary illusion in itself. And he was the most typical of lions: confidently regal and not easily maintained. Yet somehow the way he slyly sauntered into what I thought was my possession persuaded me that I had done the impossible. The way he knowingly partook of the nutrients I provided him, daily mouthing them from the palms of my hands, convinced me that he would never seek to feed himself again. And his purr. Alone it comforted my belief that I had finally found my final prize. I could now retire; my days as a huntress were over. But when paired with the ferocity of his roaring aggression it confused me into thinking there was even more to him than meets

These eyes.

I now see these eyes were in fact my curse: what I thought was a secret weapon for containing wild royalty was in fact a signal that tagged me as an easy target. He grasped my glance in his and like opposing magnet ends we mended by no force of our own. But we were so alike: both fearless, both hungry, both unashamedly vicious in our rectifications of disorder in our kingdoms. We were too alike. In fact, we were nearly identical. No wonder we ended up repulsing in the end.

Unlikely companions turned into the best of friends. And then remiss. Eyes once glossy with glow too quickly turned arid with emptiness.

I found him in the desert. Thirsty. Searching for water. I suppose he found what he was looking for; these eyes held more water than I could ever have imagined possible. But now I give him his last and dearest desire, pouring out my waters upon his bedsheets until I have nothing left. But what I came with:

These eyes.

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For Future Refernece

A TOUGH LOVE LETTER TO MYSELF

Dear You, 

Going through the motions will leave your emotion quotient totally broken
Reckless devotion- the effect of listening to a heart that has misspoken.
Someone said if you're not on the same page don't even leave the book open,
Go on and close it.
Advice token- go on and let it soak in.
Love lost is a potent potion for initiatng the rage of beasts newly awoken.
Creating trains of thought entertaining strange mechanisms of coping.
Zen proverb quoting and eloping mentally
by smoking dope and floating g-gent-ally.
Jack and Coke to the throat til ya choke,
thinking the sting will cover your crushed hopes and dreams.
"Meant to be" now sounds something like a myth to me.
Yet again Cupid lifts his arrow, shifts his gaze and misses me.
The game's a maze for which there is no bird's eye view.
You can't weigh all the options and then determine what to do.
Nothing's laid out for you.
Life doesn't come equipped with a solvent,
just other folks' attempts to apply their inexperience to your problems.
But there is no right or wrong, all there is is just "evolving".
Do the best you can, pay attention to the now,
because pre-celebrating the future is how Giants fall down.
How can you reach your destiny without leaving?
How can you combat the night if you're constantly daydreaming?
What good can come from game playing and scheming?
You may win the match but looks can be deceiving.
All you've really done is trick yourself, and that's misleading.
Temple kneading, dry heaving and emotional bleeding
that seeps into the soul and makes you wonder why you're breathing
can leave you feening for revenge or at least some reconciliation.
Blame-gaming, naming faults employed with confrontation-
A remedy that seems pleasing but is just an imitation-
dramatic results of avoidable humiliation.
I'm not suggesting apathy but deference to your reverence.
Just breathe and know that road is not your preference.
Let the fact that life goes on serve as your severance.
And if you're reading this in a state of bliss, know that I don't mean to wreck it.
Just consider this message a tough love note for future reference.

Love,
Me

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Boundless

The world is full of haters:
facilitators of debates that have no stake in reality
whose sole purpose in life is to initiate calamity
(or so they think). Or so it seems
cus every time they open their mouths vehemence seeps out and overclouds the mounds and mountain peaks from which true wisdom speaks in an attempt to repeat the history that brought us down.
And somehow they've convinced thousands to believe these self-defeating untruths;
they're ruthless.
And all without proof they do this.
And bystanding aloof we accrue this
false information and form therefrom false identities.
No way to rewind we simply must find in ourselves the entity that makes us human and multiply it by infinity;
superhumanify the I, that is you.
Next time they try to remind you that the possible is improbable
call an audible
ya gotta know
that it's simply a lot a bull
perpetuated by the minds that guide those that blindly abide by unrevised rules
used to keep potential energy resentful of the powers that be,
not knowing if it would just move it'd prove that even the statistically unaccounted for is valuable.
Mandate it for yourself officially unallowable
the fallible ways they try to display what they say is your inability:
intrinsic militancy misplaced into anger and violence willingly.
Believe you me: appeasing the masses isn't easy,
but it also isn't always the best choice.
Have your own voice
and use it boldly.
Let who you are be enough and carry it proudly like a trophy-
a gift from God
Who saw fit for someone like you to exist
not just to sit around moping
or mope around barely coping and losing focus of your purpose when you could be running it.
Legitimate heir to the throne,
take your seat and claim your own.
You could run the show if you so desire.
Determine for yourself what the worth of your empire will be
and make it happen.
Ruler of your own destiny,
pick up your shoes and walk toward the you you were meant to be.
Figure out the role you were made to play the way only you can.
Cus at the end of the day you will be held accountable for yourself.
And if you get lost along the way, there's nothing wrong with asking for help.
So no more excuses.
Unloose yourself from the trying whining of these mindless clowns and become the real you,
self-edifying and abounding in glorious worth. Then
take a look around and admire the results of your work.
Newly unwound from the misplaced distaste and the hurt,
territory claimed and maintained with efficiency and mirth,
you realize that without someone or something trying to keep you down
you would never know the joy that comes from being finally
Unbound.

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The Memo

I fit in with me.
I'm a wonderwoman who can fly and type and rhyme all while dancing
to a beat created by none other than.. ME.
what's NOT to love??
My last Me's misery reflected in the current One's glee;
what could make you THINK for a SECOND that I somehow fail to see your idea of Me is madly incomplete?
Or that I care?
(let ME know
so I can AMEND that *ish*)
hi-writing the skyline with My pen.
insatiable hungers for that that can't be
come close when I open My head and let My mind do its thing
and it makes Me feel much better
laughter so bold it runs races with thunder and wins
live My life preaching wisdom but never forgettin My sins
the only One on whom My life depends
I lead the way for Me
in touch with Me and I like what I see
who I be was meant for Me
and I will never
leave
Myself
alone
again
*
I am important to me. Of no doing of my own, my pride rests in those that came before me. Nests in tales of revolution. Nestled near the rigid warmth of great granddaddy's voice. Simply put: needs, is, breathes, gives me history. My history. H-I is siiiiilent-ly spoken when I face my ancestors in all their glory. Retold stories of unloved lovers. Bold imploring now hidden undercover(s) of books unread because our schools have a tradition. But luckily so do I, and it proudly boasts it's mission: the not so simple task of making what should, be. I love you,
*
me. knock-knock. who's there? me. me who? me.I.she.fly C-H-A-I. N-A. chaichai, ol' girly w
the eyes? nah, the one with the hair. yeah, same chick. 5'6". not so thick, but she's got nice lips. thinks quick. nice wit. and she spits! wants to teach. smart, sweet ,and confident. old school spirit with a new school edge. gonna change the system if it leaves her dead. fellas tryna holla but she's practically wed. never turn her back on ya cus she meant what she said. and she never makes promises she can't keep. her.
she's somebody.
*
..'s somebody. Reflected in the love of another is the greatness of she, the beloved. Cherished and adored, her goal is to ensure that he knows his love is reciprocated. Never belated, they waited until the time was right. And now that's it's arrived it'll never leave their sight. Strength and might combine to unite a queen to her king revealing a love to revel the ages. Uncaged rage has nothin on this love. Raving mad sadness can keep on truckin cus this love ain't havin it. Too real is their connection. Too energized for restin, it obliterates each test and pop quiz thrown in its direction. Love muscles flexin continuously. With a presence so potent it's perplexin (but only to those who aren't as blessed). Their love's more familiar than textin, more revered than an s-marked chest. The rest may not understand it, but his love is all she needs..to know that what he sees when he admires she is incredibly unique.
*
I love creativity.
In it I see me.
'Cause it was HIS that reached into the heavens and pulled out ME!
My spirit's atmosphere-
One that rains on Its subordinate graciously.
And often.
One that covers His love patiently.
And softens
Hardened heads and harder hearts
That have been jumbled, crumbled and ripped apart,
Never believing a new start is possible
Until He appears and darts the target's goal
BULLS-EYE!
He gives us Art.
Beautiful creation that re-makes Itself seen.
Three in one, some abstract trinity,
Yes
It is a never-ending reminder of He
That makes me
Take care of me.
**
This thing can go on forever: woman proud.. woman comfortable with her for her because of her...story. Faced with the facts, no longer ignoring her herness and knowing that she is enough. Empowered and uplifted because she realizes her worth. She is the epitome of greatness, unearthed. History uplifted, actualities untwisted, misery re-gifted and mended into gold. If you weren't aware that such brilliance existed, you must have missed it, but you can consider this the memo.

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genesis and devotion

an epic poem
co-written w|Zach (http://memnochcity.tumblr.com/)

If goddesses could fly, I'd demand your company tonight. But no, they walk upon ancient streets, casting their thoughts, like sesame seeds, to the populace of Paris.


If kings could leave their throne without sacrificing their kingdom, I'd summon you to venture off into mine. But as their reign over their territory is dependant upon their absence from me, I sacrifice my treasure so that you can have your own.

You speak of venturing, I speak of flight. Lo and Behold if you're caught in the night, then can my armies rest while my sight is blessed. It is true that many tried to journey the mountain, but you always knew the path to me best.

My king, ours is the story told generations ago of a love that surpassed all odds. I will mount if you will come and together we can create our destiny.

Yes, I heard a story told once before. The troubadour ran off, but I wanted more. I searched the kingdom high and low, and found the pool where your worshippers go. I saw your face make life out of stone, and knew then and there that you were my own.

Worlds clash and oceans flee upon feeling the climatic decree that is our ensemble. Apart we conceive new mysteries and future prodigies; together we give them life.

Your arms are hot and I feel the brand as they pull me from this somber land. Such heights. Such clouded highs I will know? If what you say is true, and I do believe it's true, I will go with you. But what do I leave behind? This earth is poor and though my heart is sore, on this patch, here I must stand. To be a King, to warm a throne- A root I am in this land.

And goddess, I, must reign likewise. A choice to make: nurture the land already our own, or create anew a separate one? A choice, 'tis true, but ours to make? Let's take the night, then separate.

Then come, come quick. Press your breast against mine, let hand meet hand, and lip part lip, together our breath travels the winds of time. But wait! A boot step, a sword drawn near! The enemy is here. You must away, take heed, don't stray. These men know nothing of the heavenly sort. I will stay here and defend this bed... I will have my night with you if it leaves me dead. Now go!

I go for now, our moment postponed but not lost nor forgotten. To return to you soon, to commence what we must- fabricate our fate yet begotten. Before I depart an I love you does the same from my mouth. Until time permits, I guide my people and sit, awaiting my trip to your kingdom down south.

A kiss, an embrace, one final caress and he watched as her figure disappeared from her dress. The king, bound to earth, still stunned but alert, knelt down to protect the sacred garment from dirt. The boots began to thunder, and the door began to shake. He stepped to his wardrobe, and donned silver chain of the finest make. He reached for his blade, and his horn, too. He flung wide the doors, they hadn't a clue. This king fought like a demon... but the goddess knew different. She watched from afar; heard his horn sing and his war-metal ring. He fought like a lover, not a soldier near the bed could stand, before he cut them down, shouting her name: the Spirit of the Land.

She smiled upon him knowing his deed, graced him with her presence, heard his cry and took heed. And as one final gesture before leaving for good, she left him a message only he understood:
a final remark I don you, my king
of lilies and sunsets and humid, wet springs
of fertile land and lived fantasies
and treasures discovered, brought in from the sea
the realization of you in me
all to us the future brings
With that she departs, in spirit, but not heart, until the next time each the other does see.

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remembering now

beautiful randomness

I live my life like a memory.

Constantly aware of my future's reminiscence of my current me, I wake up having only gained from my experience what I know I will have need for then. I see my future self needing my current me to be just as she is when she is. And she smiles knowing I was in on her (not so) secret, content that I paid her wish heed.

(What is a memory? Not a replica of an event or emotion, but a representation. A collection of images that aren't really even that. (Can I not, then, remember my future? I think they call that deja vu.) How, then, do we seperate our memories from our fantasies? Was it that he grazed my cheek with the intention of making my blood run hot, or did he really just want to brush the hair from my face? fantasies, dreams, memories, desires. what are they all but intangible actualities: known, maintained, inexcapable, true.. to someone at least. namely: me)

She lives her life exactly as she imagined (remembered) she would. Because she lived her life exactly as she wanted (needed) to.

(Is it impossible to enjoy life as it happens if you're too busy trying to remember it before it's over? Or is it that you enjoy it that much more for taking it in. Twice the fun. Three times upon my future's reminisence. Mmm, his warmth is becoming mine. became mine. becomes mine..)

What marvel there is in the comfort of knowing that if given the chance, your future you wouldn't change a thing about who your are, were, am

the paint splattered walls of the mind match the slush scribbled parameters of this house.. or is it the inverse?

Either way, I remember them.

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sun, rise

thinking of him as I watch the sunrise through my window

sipping my coffee

knowing that in 6 short hours he'll be watching the same sun rise

sipping his tea

and thinking of me

looking forward to our first shared sunrise

every morning

I am one morning closer to my sweet heart

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weep for me

inspired by sam cooke's rendition of willow weep for me

rain cloud weep for me
release your waters upon the trees
who'll catch my sadness, send my sorrow through the breeze
it's not everyday I hit my knees and plead
but if you'll make this exception, cater to this one need
I'll leave

willow weep for me
(your branches reach the river more naturally)
while you're down there release my pain
just this once; I won't ask again
but each tear I've cried has taken a piece
and if I grant any more energy toward the emission of tears it will be the death of me
so grant me this favor to save my sanity

river weep for me
the tears will blend simply
with your waters
I'll never ask again for you to pay for my sins
but if you will just this time I can refuel my mind for the next offense

...
[unfinished]

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Au Revoir

[ironically enough, I can't end it right now..]

You were always there when I needed
If not in person, then in spirit

A simple phone call and I can’t hold back
Tears here and now brought on by smiles of the past
An “I miss you” loaded with unspoken “remember whens”
And I almost reconsider if we really need to end
Or if either of us can truly handle our just being friends

Wanting what's best for you but needing the best for me
I wonder if they’re different or if I just want you to need me

And though it’s the only way we’ll survive
For one reason or another
I don’t know how to say goodbye

As the words come to mind as the solution to this lie we call our life
I accept the reality but try to push it aside
Once they reach my lips I begin to agonize inside
Afraid I can't convince you as the tears flow from my eyes
That if it were a matter of the heart solely you may forever be mine
But because the head and heart must align
and don't
These were the words it was destined
I spoke
Wanting to return to life pre-lesson learned, I won't
Cus despite current confliction it will only increase our hurt
...

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miss

it's natural for me to find myself in you
the commonalities become mirrors rather than coincidence
home, rather than something like it
me, and not some extension thereof

everytime you come around
I find myself in yourself
define myself by your wealth
which is also mine, of course
see those things we see the same
cast aside those we don't cus they're so mundane
(compared to all we share)
compare our worlds
contrast our unalikes until they too aren't such extremes afterall

recall
how closely related they are if I
turn my head and squint like this
or
close my eyes and reminisce
on
something resembling someone who's whisper I miss
miss
miss..
(hm. no that can't be it)

cus nothing can be missing
if I am with you
and am complete
as I add to your puzzle, fulfill my best feat
made whole
by making you so
but
(what?)

doesn't the
missing piece
have a shape of her own?
before finding her place in you?

not that you are me
nor that my meness shows you you
but that the edges of my insides and yours are congruent
which doesn't take away from its meaning
but also doesn't define your or my being

only our own shapes (and not the molds) can do that.
so I guess what I've missed is.. everything.

I talked to my friend Zach last night. During the conversation he gave me the most perfect analogy (which he tends to do). He told me to define myself in ways that didn't include others. I caaaaan't, I told him. I mean I could, I just felt those things that were characteristic of me separate from others were unimportant. Who cares if I'm smart or talented, for example, if I'm not using my gifts to benefit or enlighten the people! As I discussed my tendencies to strive and take pride the most in situations involving an other or group of others, he explained that while it is very important I recognize my relationship to the whole, or 'the puzzle', I must first recognize how I can fit into that puzzle by knowing what I look like/have to offer to the puzzle as an individual piece. Makes perfect sense, right? Yeah. I thought so too.

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in love with you

My friend Jireh and I co-wrote a lil something for a banquet we're a part of. Inspired by Erykah and Stephen's "In Love With You"

(scatting)

Jireh
Sometimes when I run my hands through your hair
I forget I'm not swimming through a cloud and I find myself floating away
Then, without trying or meaning to, I reach for
the ground
instead of allowing myself to reach the heights of true lovers' bliss

And increasingly more often, I'll look into your eyes and see
the oceans, lakes, rivers, ponds, pools:
that life giving substance that covers our earth and connects us to each other

And as I stare into the abyss of depth, I see a glimmer:
a thought swimming by. So I ask you What's on your mind, baby?
but you just
smile

you smile
that smile that fills me with warmth
that begs me to say what I cannot say

that smile that says you need me to say
what I am unable to say

I say, I dig you baby, instead of
I need you baby
I need you

Chaina
he said he's really diggin me
I don't know what to say
cus
as soon as he spoke the words he
quickly turned his heart away
and left mine in just enough time to leave it open but unfilled
but that's when
he took my heart in his hands and kissed it gently
knowing but uneasy he changed the script on me
and in place of unfound words he said this poetry:
"I'm in love with you"
but he won't accept it
and I don't know why
through false professions of love he's been
broken and misused
stretched and abused
left unprotected, exposed, and misdirected
but so have I
all I wanna do is take his heart and protect it
in mine
he
asked me to let free my past so I left it
behind
he
took from me all anxiety but ironically kept it
for himself, let it fester inside
I'm not askin for perfection; I just want him to try

Jireh
And I try
And I try
And I try
And I try
Together
And I try
I try
I try
And I try

Jireh
She said she need more than a friend
That's all I ever been
But some day you gon overstand
(scats)

Chaina
but you've never been
just a friend
and you and I both know you were meant to be
my soldier
so baby come on; I need it desperately

Chaina I need to hear it: you're in love with me
Jireh: I just don't know how to be in love with you
Chaina: But you show that you know you're in love with me incessantly.
Jireh: But if I do more than show it, it might make it real
Chaina: Remember the somethings that you whispered sweetly in my ear that night I cried in your arms and didn't stop; it's already real
Jireh: Remember when I called you so angry I couldn't speak, but you were there and  you cried, I cried, we cried together? I can't do that to you again.
Chaina: You've already led me to your soul, just give me your heart to hold and we can continue on this journey together

Together
tip-toeing on the pool of love trying not to fall in
we both prefer to sit
on the side and dip
our feet in until time permits
us to jump in
Chaina: but then again why wait, when we're both in need of the refreshing cool
Jireh: both burned from past miseries
Chaina: but it's in love that we'll find our needed healing

Alternating: You're in love with me (4x)
Alternating: I'm in love with you (3x)
Together: I'm in love with you

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can't let you go

I want to want to not want you but I can't.
I can see the heartbreak up ahead and it don't look too good
but it feels even worse
rehearsed the words time and time again in my head to tell you goodbye
but I can't let you go
no matter how hard I try
or would try if I cared to
truth is, I'm scared to
caught unawares through the kisses and stares
and knowing glances shared and
even in being unprepared I found joy in figuring it out with you

I don't understand: What did I do?
to deserve to be reintroduced to this feeling so few have known
only to have it threatening to be ripped away from me again?
staying and going, they both hold consequence
and in both circumstances the end is negative
ah but is this feeling not worth it?
I like to tell myself that it is
so I can just keep bein his
got me startin poems in the draft section of my phone on my way back home from his place
and when all but clouds are gone, he is the sun shone on my face
then.
a message ensuring I'm okay
just as my day turns gray
makes me ignore all the ways I've convinced myself not to stay
not because no one else checks on me that way
but because when he does it it's...
different
maybe cus I want it to be
maybe cus something's actually there
but the fact that I'm even doubting makes me painfully aware
that something's not right
we never used to fight
and while spats can be expected, my heart is unprotected and it's not the small but the major that I've detected and I'm already fed up
until you say somethin about love
then I wonder if you're the one
or if it's just me caring too much
about stuff that shouldn't affect us
but does
and to be honest I don't know if I can do it anymore
I almost want to, but I can't go through it anymore
the door that you built for me to enter just sometimes
me unaware of what's happ'nin in your mind
cus you refuse to let loose and be lucid anymore
and on the opposite end
it's like my heart you can't get to it anymore
and I'm tired of guessing
and agenda pressing
while you assure me my agony is just nit-pickin and stressin
despite your so-called words of assurance
I think I've learned my lesson
before you had time to leave me and teach me the hard way
the power of knowing when to let go

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tout simplement

Où est-ce que vous allez
    quand vous fermez
    vos yeux?
Quand il pleuvrait
    est-ce que c'est
    le même dans votre cœur?
Mon bébé
    j'espère que vous savez
    qu'avec moi il n'y a rien de raison de peur
    pas de raison de peur

Alors,
    marchez, marchez avec moi
        tout simplement
    je voudrais votre main
        dans le mien
        tout simplement
    vous êtes un roi
    un roi doit avoir du courage

Laissez-moi vous voir
    vous voir
    dans vos mots
Laissez-moi vous écouter
    vous écouter
    dans vos actions
Laissez-moi vous sentir dans m'esprit
Je voudrais vous savoir
Laissez-moi vous savoir
    tout simplement
    tout simplement

marchez, marchez avec moi
    tout simplement
je voudrais votre main
    dans le mien
    tout simplement
vous êtes un lion
un lion doit avoir du courage

Où est-ce que vous allez
    quand vous fermez vos yeux?
Même mieux: pourquoi?
Je voudrais
    que vous laissez
    laissez-moi vous savoir
C'est dans votre amour que vous devriez avoir le plus de foi
Donc
    avez la foi

Et
    marchez, marchez avec moi
        tout simplement
    je voudrais votre main
        dans le mien
        tout simplement
    vous êtes un roi
    un roi doit avoir du courage

S'il vous plait
    marchez, marchez avec moi
        tout simplement
    je voudrais votre main
        dans le mien
        tout simplement
    vous êtes un lion
    un lion doit avoir du courage

keep reading for English

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Parched

I had to let go of your refreshing cool
before my thirst was fully quenched.
I didn't realize how good it was
until the aftertaste hit.
An aftertaste that only makes me want
another gulp (the more I have, the more I want).

A flavor hard to place a finger on, but easy to recall

Which, now that I can't have it, only makes things hard.

The rarity of this drink

means I can only find it (and its breathtaking relief) in one place.

But I'm still thirsty

And you're not here.

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falsely accused

my spirit hurts.
because it knows what goes on outside it at its expense.
framed by the body, the spirit pays the price.
guilty by association, the spirit assumes the position given it by its cohorts.
at her core, she is innocent, knowing, and pure.
yet her face holds scars of a life that innocence could never know.
the jury is out; and it cares of nothing but the facts.
(only actions can be interpreted when the words don't match,
and the speechless spirit can't even offer that much.)

her only escape would leave her companions in her position:
isolated and voiceless- a reality she wouldn't wish on anyone.
so, to maintain the happiness of those around her,
she quietly stomachs the crumbs her captors force feed her
until the day for her last meal comes
(or until they realize the Truth in her thoughts,
whichever comes first).

withholding tears serves its purpose those times when the evidence is greater than the verdict,
for they can only heal wounds created by those losses that are not tangible.
but the unleashing of these in particular will give voice to an unjustly silenced prisoner-
an appeal for the release of the falsely accused,
an atonement offered only by the will will speak for her.
but will her message be heard?


only time will tell, but this time can no longer be served behind bars.

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Meme Si (Even If)

Si le soleil ne lève pas
Vous brillez suffisamment
Et quand les eaux ne coulent plus
Vos mots pourraient être ma boisson
Si, par coïncidence, la nourriture disparaîssait
Je me régalerais de votre amour
Et si vous vous éloignez de moi
Je resterai dans votre cœur

Even If
If the Sun does not rise
You shine sufficiently
And when the waters no longer flow
Your words can be my drink
If, for instance, all food disappeared
I would feast on your love
And if you go away from me
I will remain in your heart

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fit

I remember when I met him.
Neither much interested in the other we somhow came close.
Didn't take long to find that he was was the thought to my mind that soon became the spine to my tingle.
Seeing him turned into the treat that satisfied the hunger that belonged to the lonliness I didn't know I had.
Not my better, but my other half. My equal.
When he wants to create, I am his practice canvas.
If I am to smile, he is the laugh behind it:
My sarcasm's wit.

He an entrepreneur and I a vehicle; he starts me up.
If he's King, my body is his kingdom and I willingly let him reign over me.

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