Mornin' Coffee

...

how spoiled we can be

i've made my coffee too sweet

i told myself lies by adding too much sugar

too much caramel syrup and hazelnut flavored creamer

and denied myself the bitterness of its original nakedness

...

Queen Poetess B Copyright © 2009

...of the Fittest

Like the accident that caused a traffic back-up on 495
I sit impatiently waiting for the moment that I will most truly feel alive
I want my tolerance to rise, but my patience is short
thinking I may have to abandon the mission
my dreams I want to abort
(… Im all outta sorts…)
but decide that abandonment is not the answer
I ignite my lyrical fire to burn away the guilt you shove my way
the way chemotherapy attempts to rid a patient of cancer
my mind is an ocean and my words ride the waves that crash upon the shore of my page
I’m at the brink of success, but they tell me I digress
from what they want me to believe that I should do
gotta live my life my way, not allow myself to be subjected to the selfish words that flow from the two
Why, no, how can they want me to give them what they have denied me?
Been carrying this load blindly—annually—but now I refuse to go quietly!
They think I am beside myself, but I am owning the truth that flourishes inside me
But its misconstrued, the way my actions are viewed, and my honest thoughts are tired of hiding
I meant not to offend or wound, but you try to mute my due
I remained all the time, deferred my dreams, sacrificed my goals
while your preoccupations had full possession of you
But for some strange reason, you treat me as though I am speaking from a higher ground
However I refuse to not own my mind; so when my voice is heard, you don’t like the sound
Don’t ever deny that I love you; bound in blood forever as sure as our bodies will return to dust
I will have to accept you think I am selfish
Because what I am doing, I have to for me— my self-preservation is a must.

Queen Poetess B © Copyright 2009

STATICLUTTER

I ask myself how
I inquire as to when
I fell into the bottomless pit of lost lovensoundwaves
not knowing when this affair first began
(yes, with one stroke of my pen
asking to be forgiven yet again)
Tears sting my eyelids as the apparition comes into view
Failed attempts to stroke your presence
My outstretched fingers reach out to face the transparency of your essence
and so they fall right through
such confusion found in the illusion that is my reality
static and clutter clears when there is You
I thought I was through
told myself I had met with the challenge, climbed the mountain, and made nature bend to my sway
My façade was merely staticutter
With one word from your lips
you washed it all away

Queen Poetess B Copyright © 2009

The Gray Area

this is for my Girls... this has been bought back to mind due to conversations last night and today. shake em off, ladies...

black and white, everything is day or night
wrong or right, blind or with sight
there is no gray or eve
no Maybe, nor the ability to partially see
these are the issues that have put the decided on opposite sides of the sea
He's white, she's black
She's white, he's black
together the area is Gray
who are you to say?
whether or not it is or is not okay
for them to be Happy
relationships struggle enough with mere compatibilities
likes and dislikes
we often find a middle ground on which we build our lives
but always, we are so judging
why is it such a topic of debate?
when they see them together
brothers and sisters get down right irate
the handsome white male with the beautiful dark chocolate sister who is his wife
the beautiful white female with the honey amber brown husband, of which he has been called the epitomy of fine
Queen and King features and smiles that hail from the thrones of Africa
brings nothing but disdain from many, both black and white alike
too small a mind; unable to understand the language of the heart
demonstrate their imbecilic nature in upturned noses and snide remarks
Further manifested in rolling eyes, stares and comments meant to be overheard--

but no, she is not the baby-sitter or nanny
and he is not the pool guy
she is not a home wrecker
he's not the insurance broker, nor is he the nicca on the side
these tools we inhabit with living soul; is not the body merely a vessel?
physicalisonedimensional
and mentalovispureorgasmia-- its consummation is special

I am what he is, but my love is off the charts
love his mind, his soul, his character
similarities, and the differences, for he is a work of art
and of foremost importance, I'm in love with his heart...

But were he Asian, White, Persian, Pakistani
El Salvadorean, Phillipeano, Belgian or Iraqi
Indian, Brazillian, Haitian or from Nigeria
Honduras, Grenada, Guyana or Liberia
Israel, China, Cuba or Jamaica
or any other place that the Lord has made...

I'd still love him, for him-- and to hell with the rest of them...

special note to the beautiful blossoms Andrew, Bella and Ben

Copyright 2009 © Queen Poetess B (BLF)