Sometimes it happens that I have a melody in my head and a few words I wish to write but I don’t know to whom I am writing.
It is frustrating because I am not the type to write a poem for the sake of writing. Though it is rare that the target (in the case of writing love poems) ever sees the work I still like to know who I am writing to. And when I get words and music but no face I am frustrated. I am frustrated even more when I get multiple faces, so that I could write the words to any of the women I am thinking of or currently infatuated with.
In fact, I have come to realize that maybe I enjoy the company of women as people of beauty far too much. It should never be the case that I am ready willing and creative but haven’t a clue as to who I should write to.
In times like that I am tempted to just scrap the whole idea or better still to just write to whoever I am torn between and see which one comes out better. That way it’s a win-win for me and my art and none of the women are the wiser.
Its difficult to be a single artist infatuated with several women.
Friday, March 26, 2010
RIP Nujabes
Jun Seba died February 26, 2010
I am saddened by the death of a man I had never even seen in pictures much less in person. I still have not seen a picture of the man. I choose not to. For me it is better to know an artist by his art rather than his face.
I am forever touched by his music, which has inspired me to write countless poems and thoughts. His music always has a mood for me. Regardless of his faith I am sad that he has left this world, and I hope he enjoyed his life.
Though he has passed, his music lives on.
RIP Jun Seba A.K.A Nujabes
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Vignette: Strolling in pink
strolling in pink
Just as every bit of hot as you think
Seeing you strolling in pink makes my whole body shiver shake and get weak
I just wanna stick my hand out for a reach
But I know better than that, still I gotta do something to get you
My lips they got a taste for you
What I gotta give for a feel of you
A car, a ring, my last name I’ll give that plus the kitchen sink
And for your body I’ll make sure your hands never touch the inside of a sink
Cause your fingers would be forever always holding me
Cause from the moment I seen you strolling in pink you made me
Just want it to be you and me
But you caught me too busy thinking about everything we could be
And I let you go by strolling in pink right by me
Just as every bit of hot as you think
Seeing you strolling in pink makes my whole body shiver shake and get weak
I just wanna stick my hand out for a reach
But I know better than that, still I gotta do something to get you
My lips they got a taste for you
What I gotta give for a feel of you
A car, a ring, my last name I’ll give that plus the kitchen sink
And for your body I’ll make sure your hands never touch the inside of a sink
Cause your fingers would be forever always holding me
Cause from the moment I seen you strolling in pink you made me
Just want it to be you and me
But you caught me too busy thinking about everything we could be
And I let you go by strolling in pink right by me
Anacostia River
I looked into the river as if to say take it,
I cant work another day out of it.
That was my expression for those days wasn’t it?
Felt like my whole world was caving in on its self didn’t it?
Thinking why Lord how can this be?
Praying my Lord have mercy on me.
Let me jump in this river and that be it.
The end of me.
And then this lady she turned to me
If you were thinking of jumping I wouldn’t do it
Cause if you do you’ll need saving and I wont be the one to do it
But if you wanna jump I’ll leave you to it
I just wanted you to know not to test me
And then I realized the words of God
Do not test the Lord your God
Its weird to have your life saved by a stranger
I really didn’t know if I should thank her
For reminding me God wont like me to put my life in danger
I was not here to throw myself in the Anocostia River
But to throw my life in the hands of God for him to deliver
I cant work another day out of it.
That was my expression for those days wasn’t it?
Felt like my whole world was caving in on its self didn’t it?
Thinking why Lord how can this be?
Praying my Lord have mercy on me.
Let me jump in this river and that be it.
The end of me.
And then this lady she turned to me
If you were thinking of jumping I wouldn’t do it
Cause if you do you’ll need saving and I wont be the one to do it
But if you wanna jump I’ll leave you to it
I just wanted you to know not to test me
And then I realized the words of God
Do not test the Lord your God
Its weird to have your life saved by a stranger
I really didn’t know if I should thank her
For reminding me God wont like me to put my life in danger
I was not here to throw myself in the Anocostia River
But to throw my life in the hands of God for him to deliver
The company of women
I know with my situation being the way that it is right now I could really focus my life energy on other things besides women
Yet it seems like such a lovely distraction from the concerns of my life. The time I allow myself to day dream about this is time spent not stressing over other things.
It is amusing to me that all the women I know in this city I met through one woman. And the meeting of that woman was by all accounts was by chance.
Since the woman I met by the chance encounter is currently in a relationship I have been introduced to her friends and been given ample opportunity to foster friendships of my own with them
I think I very well may be the only male friend that is non homosexual that these women enjoy as a group. In all my gatherings with them I have either been the lone male in the group or the other male was dating one of the women.
I enjoy very much the company of women. I think I may prefer it to that of men. However nothing will ever replace the comfort I can have from just being around other men, I feel there is a certain pressure involved to be in the company of multiple women.
In a crowd of them I can easily turn invisible an my qualities of observation an listening go a long way. They either forget my presence or become so comfortable with me that the revel things about themselves or women in general which I find useful later on.
Yet it seems like such a lovely distraction from the concerns of my life. The time I allow myself to day dream about this is time spent not stressing over other things.
It is amusing to me that all the women I know in this city I met through one woman. And the meeting of that woman was by all accounts was by chance.
Since the woman I met by the chance encounter is currently in a relationship I have been introduced to her friends and been given ample opportunity to foster friendships of my own with them
I think I very well may be the only male friend that is non homosexual that these women enjoy as a group. In all my gatherings with them I have either been the lone male in the group or the other male was dating one of the women.
I enjoy very much the company of women. I think I may prefer it to that of men. However nothing will ever replace the comfort I can have from just being around other men, I feel there is a certain pressure involved to be in the company of multiple women.
In a crowd of them I can easily turn invisible an my qualities of observation an listening go a long way. They either forget my presence or become so comfortable with me that the revel things about themselves or women in general which I find useful later on.
Vignette: Rainy Sunday afternoon Jazz
Laying in bed with her. I wake up to the rain drops tapping at the window like gentle reminders that this is still earth-not heaven-and life wont carry on like this forever.
I let the Sabbath rain play a melody for my ears as I watch her head gently rest on my chest. She rises an falls with every breath.
I know she is alive because I am alive she moves in rhythm with the air in my lungs. We are in harmony her an I, still as one, as we were just moments ago when we were making love
The rain plays for us, congratulates us, clapping its hands. It’s a slow steady tune outside the window. My breathing is caught up along the melody-her head too. We three the rain, her and I make Sunday afternoon Jazz music as my fingertips play piano softly along her back.
The soft silence of our music waifs through the air, my fingers glide off her skin like the rain drops down the glass window outside. Every touch makes a beautiful and unique sound as my fingers trail down her body.
The calm sleep of her body makes a melody of its own an soon it mixes with the rain, her, me, my finger tips and her breathing all mix together to make a sweet jazz lullaby.
One by one the other instruments start to fade. My fingertips stop playing the keys of her naked body. The sound of the raindrops fades away. And my breathing is not as fast as it once was. There is only her. Her an her calm sleep. It plays a solo now and everyone listens to the calm sleepy jazz of a rainy Sunday afternoon.
I let the Sabbath rain play a melody for my ears as I watch her head gently rest on my chest. She rises an falls with every breath.
I know she is alive because I am alive she moves in rhythm with the air in my lungs. We are in harmony her an I, still as one, as we were just moments ago when we were making love
The rain plays for us, congratulates us, clapping its hands. It’s a slow steady tune outside the window. My breathing is caught up along the melody-her head too. We three the rain, her and I make Sunday afternoon Jazz music as my fingertips play piano softly along her back.
The soft silence of our music waifs through the air, my fingers glide off her skin like the rain drops down the glass window outside. Every touch makes a beautiful and unique sound as my fingers trail down her body.
The calm sleep of her body makes a melody of its own an soon it mixes with the rain, her, me, my finger tips and her breathing all mix together to make a sweet jazz lullaby.
One by one the other instruments start to fade. My fingertips stop playing the keys of her naked body. The sound of the raindrops fades away. And my breathing is not as fast as it once was. There is only her. Her an her calm sleep. It plays a solo now and everyone listens to the calm sleepy jazz of a rainy Sunday afternoon.
Writing a daydream
Writing for me is like one big day dream. Expect I dream on pieces of paper. I can go places when I write. A pleasant dream that I create all for myself, whenever the reality of the world threatens to take away my joy. If I want I can match the sadness the world feeds me and create a sad environment for me to express myself in. Other times it can be a whole free world for me to explore an express my ideals in.
Writing takes me away to a time place and mood of my choosing. Its what I do when I’m said, happy confused or otherwise alive. I write.
Writing takes me away to a time place and mood of my choosing. Its what I do when I’m said, happy confused or otherwise alive. I write.
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