As we count down to the New Year…I felt the need to speak on time. You all know what I’m going to say…so, I”ll make this absolutely short and sweet. 

I feel like sometimes us humans walk around impervious to the hourglass. We believe that we have all the time in the world. To squander away concerning, goals…love…places we want to go. We always say, “tomorrow…” and “next time…” thinking that by saying those words we automatically summon time to be on our side…waiting for us to make decisions…complete business…garner success.  Believing somehow that if we give all the reasons why NOW isn’t possible…that later will be an option.

I’ve waited so many years to take the bull by the horns concerning my writing. I’ve “wasted” time being afraid. Afraid of change, SUCCEEDING (go figure) and of course…failing. I know some would wonder…why be afraid to succeed? Well with success of anything, comes the fear of it not working out and it being taken away. With success comes the responsibility of MAINTAINING that success…and that equals work. Success brings hatemongers, users and beggars…and it brings out the phonies, too. It can also adversely affect the succeeder in feeling obligated to take care of others and not being free to truly appreciate what their success brings. So, we (I) bided time…hoping that one day it would be okay to take a step forward. Waiting for the “perfect time“. What IS the perfect time? Does that even exist?

I’ve come to realize that those that are waiting for the “perfect time” and are trying to adhere to or construct plans for their life…can sometimes use those standards as blockades and crutches. Not wanting to make a decision that may leave them in a place of loss. Risking too much…and finding out how quickly plans go awry and ending up empty-handed. So folks hold onto morsels…dotting them with the tips of their fingers…tasting, but not quite savoring.  Eating, but not quite swallowing and digesting. Can you imagine if you ate constantly in the smallest portions and was never fully satisfied…remaining hungry…What agony that would be?

It is a tried and true cliche…”Time waits for no man”.  ~Carpe diem~ “Seize the day”….grab hold of the moment in front of you as if it’s the fullest plate. I’ve been procrastinating for a long while…and I see now that I’ve drawn into my life those who procrastinate as well. I’ve seen people make excuses for not going for what they say they want and for not allowing themselves to be happier than they are…out of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of losing it once gained. Fear of judgment. Fear of losing self. Fear of missing out on something. Fear of stepping out of the gate too long…only for it to be closed behind them…so that if they realized they’ve made a mistake…they couldn’t return to that comfort zone.

Time is precious in that it’s the one thing in that is an anomaly of theory. It is the most infinite…and yet definite. Something which has no end, yet is limited to moments. It is the one thing we want to capture in a bottle…yet are oblivious to cherish. So, take the time, to make time… 

I don’t think that was short and sweet yall…but, hey…I had the time. 😉

The Heart of the Season

Not too long ago…a friend of mine said that more people killed themselves around the holidays than any other time of the year. She said it was because of the loneliness that is magnified in a season where the focus is on love of family and friends. I’d heard that statistic before…and I wonder if it just seems that way because loss of life this time of year is amplified. We went back and forth for a minute, but neither of us researched it…I guess neither of us wanted to REALLY know.

I don’t like to buy into the whole ideology of holidays. Call me Debbie Downer or a Party Pooper. Whatever floats your boat. I got ragged on recently for being the one who doesn’t think kids should be mindlessly misled into believing in Santa. Hell, ESPECIALLY in this time of economic struggle…I tend to believe it is of absolute importance that kids know EXACTLY where their gifts are coming from. They SHOULD know as early as it is possible for them to understand, how mom/dad/guardian…works their asses off all year to fulfill Christmas wishes. And people wonder why their kids don’t appreciate the value of a dollar or life’s gifts. *shrugging*

My mother didn’t tell me Santa was real. She told me straight up that it was she and my dad and other family members who CARED enough to see me smile…that purchased gifts for me. That went to the trouble of wrapping and hiding them…all to see me and my sister glow come Christmas morning. I was always grateful for the things under my tree…because I knew where they came from. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t feed our kids a little imagination and fairy tale. Within fairytales lie moral finishes and fuel for dreams…but, I just wonder how healthy it is to keep kids believing in Santa way into their preteens. Anyway…this isn’t about that. Forgive me…I digress.

What I’m saying is…that values, family time, love, generosity (as mentioned in a previous post during Thanksgiving) shouldn’t be allocated to the last two months of the year. ANY time I can gather and love my family is a good time. It’s a WONDERFUL thing.

I say this, because I feel that even those who understand the truest meaning of this “holiday”…still at times get sucked into the feeling of loneliness, despair and feelings of displacement…if they don’t have people around them to truly appreciate them and show them…I said, SHOW THEM…that they mean the world. I would hope that this Christmas, in remembering it’s origin and spiritual context…all of you (those celebrating religiously/commercially) would remember to make someone’s day. Shine their night…by bringing some joy. Invite someone or a small family who may not have much over for dinner. Or stop by bearing gifts of love and time. Call someone and say, “I love you” (and mean it). Think of how you would feel to be alone and uncared for…and act in accordance to what you would want in that position.

I’ll post a blog every month of this upcoming year dedicated to love if that’s what it takes to spread love around. If it reminds you to slow down your supposed “busy life” to tend to a broken, lonely or just beautiful heart…then so be it. 

God bless and Happy Holidays…see you after Christmas…perhaps after the New Year. I love you all!


da Kween

And Another One…

My girl :::the.kisser::: strikes again…she shows me so much love!! I had to indeed hook her up with the last award passed to me, so because of that I can’t really tag her this go round. Don’t worry…I’ve got plenty to choose from. Even some newbies 🙂

So in keeping with the rules of this blog award, I will list 8 folks who make me wanna look ALL UP in their window!
TMI blog award rules
*post the award on your blog
*list 8 things a voyeur / peeping tom could potentially catch you doing if they were watching you
*award up to 8 bloggers who match the criteria this award
*make sure they know you enjoy peeping through their windows
8 things a peeping tom could catch me doing…
~Talking to myself…and answering
~Singing like I was on stage
~Writing of course….ad nauseum
~Cackling loudly at the TV
~Taking pics of myself
~Feeling up my b(0)(0)bs 🙂

Looking at Love

You ever met someone who went through or was going through a break up and looked at all the couples in love with red hot daggers? Damning and cursing all things sentimental and valentine? I want to be that person so badly…but, I can’t. No matter how many times I get hurt or feel pain, it always does my heart good to see a loving couple.
I search for them on TV shows, commercials, the stores, etc. I love when a man’s eyes light up at the sight of his honey’s smile…or when she laughs, he laughs by default and suggestion. I bubble up with the possibility of soul mates existing, when I see a woman stroke her man’s face…and he leans into her hand like it’s the most precious place to lay his head.
The consummate romantic I am…no matter how beaten by weathering heartbreaks or for having missed love’s arrow…I still look for the private looks in public. The knowing winks and silent laughs no one understands but them. I look for finished sentences, long embraces and that moment when…
he cups her chin
leans in for the peck
her toes tip
and her neck does stretch
their lips touch
with reciprocal love
of tender tongues
and slightly made hums
*did you hear it?*
I forever hold out hope that the one for me is this intensely affectionate being aware of just when I need his hugs. Not someone to crowd me with overkill…but, the one who will be able to read my expressions and body language and answer with his love. I crave the one who will cherish me so, that he’ll think of himself and I in tandem. In his eyes, there is no more “him” or “me”…just US and WE. He’d know that we could be good on our own, way better together…something ELSE when we’re silly and BAD in a good way.
I love when I hear those stories…the ones that no one thinks exist because they have become cynics in the face of pain. You know…the ones where, time, distance, circumstance and fears were conquered with proverbial swords to cut down unseen jungles of obstacles and trials. The ones that involve epic reunions that took decades to manifest. How about those jewels…the teens who have been each other’s one and only and are still together after the HS doors closed. {I know a few}. Yeaaa…*sigh* the blessings of love and it’s triumphant ways. The way your intended life’s love refused to be denied you. Or how, you went through the worst of times…even becoming estranged…all to figure out that your life JUST didn’t work without them.
If you ever have a chance, to grab hold of the one whose laughs make you laugh…whose touch warms the core of you…whose eyes reflect forever in your heart…hold on. Remember the brevity of life…how sudden it comes and goes with no apologies to unfinished business or unrequited love. Remember Billy Dee telling Diana, “Success is NOTHING…if you don’t have someone to share it with…”. Remember the couple in “The Notebook”…who were separated by class and life…reunited and married…had babies. How even when she suffered from dementia…he helped her remember them through storytelling, even when she forgot who HE was. And how they died together…
“Be sweet to love, stroke it with meaning and cradle it in truth. Wrap it in understanding and put it to bed on feathers. Dream it…and then awake to it. Tell it you love it…be sweet to love. ” ~Kween Kiwi 2009
Remember that…Don’t just look at it…go get it and live it.
Love, da Kween

Someone LOVES my blog!! :)

Well, I’ll be GOT dayumned…lol. 

Someone LOVES my blog. Well, I’m sure she’s talking about “Passion Fruit” because that’s where I post the sensual side…but, nonetheless it’s still so cool to be appreciated for my literary endeavors.  Things like this are always RIGHT on time. Just when you’re needing a little support, love and acknowledgement…in comes something so simple, but so meaningful. Thanks to Cook.the.Poet for loving my blog!!

I’m gonna tell you whose blogs I love. I’m only doing 7 because I LITERALLY could do this all day.

Deez Nailz is such a cool site for ladies dedicated to the love of the mani. She experiments with colors and styles and posts some VERY unique designs. Definitely for the girly girl.

Krissy’s One Stop Beauty Spot is just that…she’s prolific in all things cosmetic. Gotta love her.

My inner thoughts…ME is the very personal blog of my girl Diva. She’s such a tease…but, she delivers!

soulbrother v.2 is the blog of a brother that goes by Max Reddick…he dissects the everyday issues, but from the view of a very intelligent, unique and funny perspective.

kiss.the.pen well, she’s my fave kissy face in the whole world. LOL She and I have become each other’s stalkers. Her poetry, stories and love of music, make for a very kisstacular blog read.

THE INTERSECTION OF MADNESS AND REALITY is just damned that. It’s insane AND real. Rippa’s a personal friend of mine, whose blog is all about the shock value and the very open and unapologetic perspective of a black man…if you can get past the shock to see the real.

Last, but damn sure never least…my blog model, [FUNG’KE] [BLAK] [CHIK] is my friend…my P.I.C. and if you want to laugh, think and possibly bob your head to the off beat in her head…give it a try. You WILL enjoy her wit.

Honorable mentions: my go-to-blogs Butterfly Effect, The Curvy Gyrl Chronicles & Ms Downlow

~doing my kween pageant wave~

i art love

i conceived it
formed from hopes
fused with promise
mated in bliss
it grew…quickly
tumbling inside of me
kicking to be acknowledged
tugging on me to feed
absorbing my inhale
making me feel purposed
i rubbed on it
cosseting my seed
watering it with tears
lending my breast to it’s needs
whispering affirmation of life
conditioning it to spring forth
wholly…a perfected version
of me
my heart
and love’s sweetness
it burst through a small space
a ray of shine
through a dark place
barren from heart’s burn
the miracle of artistic life
was divinely born to me
refusing to be denied
casting it’s soul through me
manifesting to be held
i art love…
i birthed it
captured it with a stroke of love
brushing it’s lovely reds and mediocre blues
golden yellows and muted hues
against walls structured
to be home where i nurse it…
cursing at times my ability to rear it
but refusing not to be near it
forever tied
thee that i love

Yawning…like 4 In the Mawnin’

Here I am, up all late…well early. “Naps” replace actual sleep and I know that this is the norm. This is what happens when I’m stressed, feeling hurt or lost. So, because I’m up…I figured I’d post something. I wouldn’t wanna just be resting on my “laurels” so to speak after coming off of a 30 day blog challenge…would I?

I am gonna try to go to bed now…I’m sure I’ll be up in a few hours.

I thought I’d write a poem or freestyle but, I have the nerve to be feeling some kind of sleep setting in. *WTH*  So here’s a poem I wrote a little over a year ago…enjoy.

more than

i love you more than 
the stretch of my arms 
or the capacity of a human heart
or even…
the span of an angel’s wings
i love you more than
my mind’s scope
or my soul’s hope
more than the furthest reach
of the longest rope
i love…
more than love can be defined
more than the infinite
space of time
more than a sky’s height
or an Alaskan night
more than
and fiercer than
and greater than
a lioness’ fight
and even then
its rougher than
but easier than
a kayo on fight night
that is 
i love you
the stretch of imagination
and a dream’s escalation
the force and pull
of a planetary rotation
with showers of fire
and atmospheric changes
resulting in novas
and supernovas
of super loving explosions
*catching breath*
is a mere display of
i love you…
that i love you
more than the shells that hold us
and the experiences
and life
thats taken hold of us
more than the eons 
that separate our past lives
more than 
all the love stories ever scribed
more than
the heaving cries
of broken hearts
stuttering mouths
in awe of art
more than the echoing pains
of a child’s birth
more than
the heat contained
at the core of the earth
when i say,
i love you…
know that
its more than
even “I” know…

Bold & Beautiful

~I got this from Mizz Scoop‘s page…it looked interesting, so I “stole” it :)~

BOLD what applies to you:

YOURSELF – I would like to change my name. I’m loud. I’m obnoxious. I’m sarcastic. I’m cocky. I have a bad temper. For the most part, I don’t like most people. I’m easy to get along with. I like to fight. I have more enemies than friends. I drink coffee. I clean my room daily.(Is there an in between? lol) My room always looks like a tornado hit it.

APPEARANCE – I’m shorter than 5’2. I wear makeup. I wear a piece of jewelry at all times. I wear contacts. I wear/need glasses. I currently have braces. I change my hair color often. I either straighten or curl my hair often. I have piercings that aren’t in my ears. My ears are pierced.

RELATIONSHIPS – I’m in love. I’m scared of being hurt. I’ve been hurt. An ex has physically abused me at least once. I’ve been cheated on in a relationship. I’ve told someone I loved them when I didn’t. I’ve told someone I didn’t love them when I did. I’ve been in love more than three times. I believe in love at first sight. I believe lust is more important than love.

FRIENDSHIPS – I’ve gotten a phone call in the last 24 hours from a friend. I’ve beaten up a friend. I’ve been in a serious fight with a friend. I can trust at least five people with my life. I’d give my life to save a best friend.

CLOTHES – I own a white hoodie. I own at least five pairs of jeans. I own at least ten pairs of shoes. I own a blue jacket. I own a pink jacket. I have at least five belts. I own at least three blue shirts. I own at least one pair of flip flops. I own at least two pairs of sweatpants. I’ve gone out in public in pajamas. I own at least three hoodies.

EXPERIENCES – I’ve been on a plane. I’ve been on a train. I’ve left the country. I’ve left the state/province. I’ve taken a taxi. I’ve taken a city bus.I’ve taken a school bus. I’ve gone bungee jumping. I’ve made a speech. I’ve been in some sort of club. I’ve won an award. I’ve spent 24 hours on the computer straight. I’ve been so angry I’ve punched a hole in the wall. I’ve been in a physical fight.

MUSIC – I listen to country music. I listen to pop music. I listen to rap. I listen to techno. I listen to R&B. I listen to punk. I’m one of those people who play songs repeatedly until I hate it. I hate the radio. I download music. I buy CD’s.

TELEVISION – I spend at least six hours a day watching television. I watch soap operas daily. I’m in love with Days Of Our Lives. I’ve seen and love The OC. I’ve seen and like One Tree Hill. I’ve seen Popular. I’ve seen and like Everwood. I’ve seen and like House. I’ve seen and like Gilmore Girls. I’ve seen and liked CSI.

HAIR – I’ve cut my hair in the past year. I’ve dyed my hair in the past year.I’ve been blonde. I’ve had black. I’ve been red/reddish. I’ve been light brown. I’ve been orange. I’ve been dark brown. I’ve had dark purple. I’ve been blue/green. I’ve gotten my hair thinned. I use conditioner. I’ve used silk therapy. I’ve used hot oil treatments. I’ve completely killed my hair. I’ve had dreadlocks. I’ve curled my hair. I straightened my hair. I’ve ironed my hair. I’ve braided my hair.

SCHOOL – I’ve thrown something at a teacher. I’ve yelled at a teacher. I’ve been suspended. I’ve been sent to the principal’s office. I’ve walked out of class. I’ve skipped an entire day of school. I’ve skipped a whole month of one certain class.I’ve failed a test. I’ve cheated on a test. I’ve helped someone else cheat on a test. I’ve failed Art. I’ve failed P.E. I’ve failed Math. I’ve failed Socials. I’ve failed Science. I’ve failed another class. A teacher has called my parents. I’ve been caught skipping. I’ve been on the A/B honor roll. I’ve been on effort honor roll.

When I Think of Poetry…

~I wrote this as an entry for a publishing company a while back…after reading it…I wanted to share it.~

            When I think of poetry, I think of youth. Poetry and I grew up together. Poetry has been my best friend and family. We traveled places together in and outside of my mind. When distress became a part of my daily routine, poetry was indeed my ace. If poetry and I went to school together, she’d be that friend that stuck up for me when I was bullied…when no one wanted to pick me for games, she’d choose me first.  We stayed up late nights shooting the breeze holding in giggles and swapping secrets. I told her of my crushes, heartbreaks, dreams and worries…while she told me of how special she thought I was. She wanted me to know that I always had her to rely on. She didn’t judge me, use and abuse me, disrespect me, throw me away, or take away the gifts she’d given. No, poetry was a giver and still is. 
            My idea of poetry has always been more about the esoteric. The quintessential element of things. The ability to capture the emotion of a moment. The beauty. The ugliness. The betrayal. The joy. The light. When I write, I see the words in movement. In my imagination, as I write…the words play out in my mind’s eye like a motion picture. I see the laughter, the tears, the hurt, the love, the beauty, the fear…all in my mind and heart as if I’m translating a true moment in time, taking place right then and there.
           Poetry to me isn’t just about rhyming or trying to create a picture as much as it is about me trying to capture the moment. Inspiration striking in bolts, dispensing sight and vision beheld in words and hidden meanings. Creating a piece of work that draws awe and sparks creative thoughts in the reader. To evoke emotions is what I like to do best. I love that my poetry has garnered positive nods of, “I’ve been through that” and “This spoke to me” because it allows me the chance to feel and believe that the emotions and state of mind I wrote the poem in…was translated in reading.
           I love words to the core. I used to read the dictionary and still sometimes find myself thumbing through one to reacquaint my mind with words I haven’t used in a while or never heard of at all. Poetry gives me a chance to take those words and string them into an expressionistic play on thought.  I’m allowing room for interpretation and depth…yet relatable and understandable to someone who may not be versed in grammar and vocabulary. I like to make the body of poetry so much more than the words used individually to bring it together.  My words, used to stroke hearts tenderly and minds thoughtfully.
           My ultimate vision is for poetry to become less of a “dreamer’s art” and more of a teacher, nurturer, lover, mentor, a bonder of people. I’d like to create a forum where like souls can feel related to and understood. To take the stigma away from poetry as something only lonely and brokenhearted people do. I have serious poems, light ones, sad ones, happy ones, erotic ones, playful ones. Some are spiritual and some border on profane.  We are multi-faceted as people and playing to one side is cheating the world of a full personality. I want people to see the genius in me, the silly girl, the intelligent sister, the saddened lover, the innocent-eyed child, and the scorned woman I can be.  My hope is to impact and impress…soulfully and deeply. I want to use one of the oldest forms of writing to embark on a new way of expression.  I want to give my heart a voice.


Say Uncle

So many thoughts I’m trying to reconcile right now…so, bear with me…
Firstly, isn’t it amazing how one thing leads to another? The WAY they lead to one another?
I went to Facebook and saw that a friend had joined (RED) so of course, I joined too. Decided to go to Twitter…well, of course they’re making Twitter red today…so I joined in. I then tweeted a shout out to my uncle, who is living with HIV/AIDS and quite sick…as well as my sister’s deceased father, who died of AIDS in 2003. My uncle has been battling the disease for over a decade now. Tough cookie he is, so I decided to call him. Now, I don’t call him often. Condemn and judge if you choose…but, it’s hard. Right now, I’m damming tears after speaking to him. He said, “Kali…I’ve been sick for 11 years. I’m tired. I lost my car, my job, my health…”  *pause* His voice is so frail. In between telling me how pretty my mother, sister and I have always been {remembering to tell me how crazy about my mom, my dad was and how broken up he was when she left…hmph! lol} …and asking me if I had a boyfriend, to which I said no, because I don’t have the energy to explain how I love a dude several states away. *oy vey* He was saying how now that his only child has moved to NC…he wont be seeing his 5yr old grandson much. He sounded so sad.
*sigh* This is my uncle. My father’s younger brother. My grandmother’s baby…lawd, this is her BABY! Anyway…I have so many memories of this cat. He had a pimp swagger. He was the kinda dude that would spend his spare time in this house wearing a stocking cap to preserve his waves. Tall and thin, light-skinned and slick…he was the type of dude that had mack vibes. He had a few girlfriends at a time…but, one, Denise…was the one he brought home to my grandmother. Mind you…his daughter’s mom is “a Denise” as well…but this wasn’t her. THIS Denise brought with her 3 little girls who became something like cousins throughout their relationship. At one time, they all moved in with us and it was like one big slumber party every single day. I don’t know why I mentioned that…but, anyway…he couldn’t wait to move her out of our apartment and back into one of her own. He had to be able to come home and be AWAY from her sometimes…I guess to catch his breath. When he came home, which wasn’t often…we’d watch movies together. He was real easy. He even taught me how to iron…no double creases. Perfectly starched shirts and straight cuffs.
It wasn’t all sweet…not by a little bit. He, my father and grandmother argued a lot. Things got difficult at times to have him around, because he demanded attention…even if it was negative. He was the baby for goodness sakes. He refused to be ignored and at times would “start” with my father. My father AND uncle are indeed recovering addicts…so there’s nothing more I need to say on that account. They fought a lot and that’s that.
My uncle lucked up on finding a woman who in spite of potentially knowing his activities of that time, loved him, married him, and has dedicated her life with him to caring for him. They were married in 2001 and he’s had peaks and valleys of being well and then sick again. God bless his soldier spirit…remaining feisty along the way. Yes, he’s still here.
My sister’s father lost his battle in 2003. No, I retract that…he didn’t lose it. He beat it with the victorious transitioning from this plane to the next. In a room, barely breathing with no one there with him except my mother, sister and I…he said sayonara. I still remember. My mom praying for his ease, him breathing his last breath, us on the way out…when my sister realized he wasn’t breathing anymore. My heart almost stopped with his. I could sense it. I was rushing to go…I didn’t want to be present when death came. Plans foiled, huh? Yea, of all the folks in the world he had with him there to breath in his spirit as he left…it was us three. A woman he loved dearly, his daughter…and me. Rest in Peace, Richard.
World AIDS Day…I’m so aware.