A Song of Sheba

There was a time where I would have been content to sit in the corner. Just a small space where he wouldn't see me, my presence wouldn't bother him, and I could love him from a distance.  Today he drew me into him, exalted me above all women.  Forsaking all I take him.  He will be my king.

no lady

I'm big and bold and down to tell whomever what I wont do.
I know you aint looking at me funny
No, I aint that one to be looked cross eyed at
No, I aint that bitch that is going to let you do the same shit you used to do with whomever you used to do it with
Naw you cant talk to her cause she is prettier than me
and No you aint finna tell me who I can and cant talk to either
I'm grown, I do me, I do what I want
I pay my own gat damn bills
and NO you cant help me
No, you cant live with me
No, you cant hang out
No, you cant fall asleep on her couch
No, you cant have female friends
No
I do what I wanna do, I do me, I'm grown
Naw, I dont care whatchugottasay
Naw, I wont lower my voice
Hell naw I wont calm down
Cause what you aint finta do
is work my last nerve
I DONT have to be here
I DONT have to stay
I have options
Naw, stressing you aint one of them
No I dont have a problem leaving because dats what I do BEST
Naw, I dont have a back up plan but I can make up one real quick
No, I dont have to listen to or understand your side of the story
I do what I wanna do, I does me, I'm is GROWN
so NO
I didnt remember to tell you I loved you
I didnt remember to let you know how important you are to me
No, I haven't stopped thinking of me first
No, I dont think I deserve your love
I look at my flaws, and turn them into your issues
I look at your flaws, and I make them into walls
cause I'm grown, cause I do what I wanna do,

not what's best for me

Flawed to the point where I cant recognize myself
I, roll around like a child in a cold bed with no blankie.
You hold a mirror up to me and tell me to look
but all I see is monsters and a piece of shit. Mr. Hankie?
my references are backwards ass sentence this like
and my life is going in the direction of my brain
in circles, of friends that really are quite square
neither here nor there, I will not dare
to be different from myself anymore, that just makes me
as crazy as I think I am and an outcast to myself on a
good day, the people in my head will say good morning
today they'd rather stay inside, close the curtains
shrug their shoulders, watch a rerun of what happened in my life
yesterday, I was cold

you weren't there to help me

I need someone to cover me.

eden #1

Never wanted to give myself up
give my self over
give anyone a piece

Been called all sorts of things
answered to quite a few of them
nobody knew my name

Adam laid down for nap
God took his rib
created something

I looked around at the world
what I thought I owned
it was nothing nice

You woke up
saw me
said I was beautiful

I never wanted anyone
not a piece of me given
I was mistaken

What I thought was mine
one of your ribs gone missing
is not mine to hoard

I felt guilty
still possesive of "me"
you laugh at me a lot

Hold my hand
take your rib for a walk
tell me "Protect what was always mine"

Not a piece of me to give

Key of G (to my future husband)

I haven't opened my mouth to sing in a long time
Haven't had a reason, nothing worth singing about
I've hummed some, whistled some
Even tapped my feet to a few tunes
Clapped, shouted, said "Oooh wee"
never sang

Take the time to get to know me
pry my mouth open with kisses
Give me a reason to sing
Make me moan some, cry some
rock my hips to a rhythm
Open, squeeze, scream "Hallelujah"
Make me sing in the key of G

Fifteen lines in 15 minutes

The Pilot said I had fifteen minutes
Fifteen lines in Fifteen minutes
Fifteen minutes to sit and squirm in it
Push and turn in it
Wriggle and worm in it
I got enought time to crunch and chew on it
Munch and stew on it
Bubble and brew on it
My whole life time I tip-toed around it
Beat and pound on it
Stomped the ground on it
Now it's plain that I am full of it
Cant take the pull of it
I cant get caught on it
Just a fifteen line sonnett

Delilah

So I usually write poetry (haven't in a while) and post it here for no one to look at. I am going to follow the lead of someone I hold dear and use this medium to put my thoughts into the atmosphere, just out there for you to pick at:

I have always loved the story of Samson and Delilah. Strong women have always intrigued me. To be beautiful, cunning, aggressive, and notorious for being the sole agent of bringing the unconquerable to his knees. I like her, not her motives or her actions, just her and her spirit. I have a running joke with the love of my life "that every word in this song is gonna be about you" and it is.

There is a sick sense of satisfaction that comes from destroying something that you helped create. I spent hours twisting, pulling, clipping hair that was never made to lock. I spent years forcing, prodding, begging for something that wasn't meant to happen.

And all of a sudden, after years of no no no, a half assed suggestion is offered up. A subtle understanding between two people that doesn't need an explanation or definition. No riddles, no soldiers behind the door, no frustration or threats, just a simple "Yeah, let's do it".

I grabbed my scissors. They had been used so many times to cut off bad memories and heartbreak. I asked him if he was scared. He tilted his head back and waited for my fingers to follow the paths they had made through his scalp. I looked in the mirror at our reflected forms. The roles had changed, weight had shifted,and the scales were finally beginning to balance.

There is a sick sense of satisfaction that comes from destroying something you helped create. Delilah looks at the man she loves knowing that she will hurt him but only her hand can undo the mess she made. Her future must be bound to his either in gold thread or iron chains.

So I cut away his locks. Bathed his head in water. Clipped away the past and all the bad memories and then took a step back.

Delilah looks at the damage she's done. Samson will never forgive her. She has taken away the one thing that has defined him. The source of his being, his purpose.

I asked him what he thought of his new look.

He asked me what I thought of our new life.