This past Sunday, I was kinda feeling myself. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
The audio below is probably one of the most sincere and dearest things to me that I have ever shared here on WordPress or on any other writing platform, for that matter. Take heed–it is lengthy. I appreciate your patience. If you stick with it until the end, I applaud you. Thank you in advance for listening.
Have you gotten your copy of Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction at Lulu in E-Book& Paperback versions, or Amazon in Paperback(only) yet?
I am on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutrecent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.
AI-generated image: Two Black women; one has an afro and is wearing black rimmed glasses, the other has locs and is donning massive gold hoop earrings. They both have pensive expressions on their faces as they hold on to each other in a sinkhole.
away from you
Con Funk Shun plays, and I finally hear what I need to in Michael Cooper’s sultry voice… “That’s the way it goes on Love’s Train,” and you begin to fade from memory.
As soon as you float into another part of my mind, The Gap Band plays, and then I hear, “Keep running,” and here I am… trying to talk myself from chasing after you.
I am slowing down, finding my own beat, and my own words to get far away from you.
death from cold
cold weather moves in without an invite–banging at the doors of the sky, willing to lap dance the day away, as long as it’s paid in full before the next business day.
its pimp hangs out around the corner, strangling the sun and threatening to take the heat from it.
we all layer up for safety. we don’t want to catch our death from cold.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.
It’s hard to explain, I create when I need to–when the weight of life sneaks up on me and wrecks my brain. There’s nothing like moving words from one section of your heart to another… nothing like massaging your scalp to push out stories that have been trapped inside for weeks; a literary birthing of art.
Background noise, not a deterrent… I block whatever doesn’t fill me. I ignore the unimportant.
A writer’s words will see the light even if darkness has a grip on their sleeve–they’ll find a way.
My neighbor is taken with me — smitten. It’s cute. I’m sure it could have been even cuter if I hadn’t warped her brain by revealing my age. I know what it feels like to crush on someone out of your league… out of your rank. 20 years my junior, I’ll pass. I can’t see myself tuning into someone I could have given birth to.
I never thought I’d see the day when I’d say, “I am sure I’m way older than you. How old do you think I am? My guess, you’re in your 20s, right?” And right, I was. The look of shock that swept across her face was madness to my spirit.
Should I grow more gray hair? Am I aging backward?
The creator in me wants to poem the night away, but the thinker in me allows the words to marinate–to gel. I have to find a way to build blocks with the stories I wish to tell… to wrap them around the stairway to heaven.
I think there’s a race passing me by, watching me side-step and break my ankles just to be rid of people who are distractions. I want more creative things, like the stickers on my laptop, the titillating words of a fellow author, and the sacred sunset that’s never on time.
More creative things… I crave them, and until I am fed, hunger will ravage me.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
the dog is dead to the world. this kind of sleep is what I used to have before the change, before the crush.
there’s too much worry in my bones – too much brokenness. I am whole-body ache in need of a salve that’s evergreen. who will deliver?
Wednesday is just another day that my body confuses with Thursday, and the mind battles with it – warring with an enemy who has an army of an undisclosed amount.
I am stuck in the middle. the dog is still dead to the world. she didn’t raise her head or bat an eye. the sandman who visits her is clearly not the one who will beat down my door tonight.
A Cornered Gurl 
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