Friday, May 29, 2009

At a Loss for Words

I need a muse...

Ok, so I was in the middle of working on my second book, Banana Moon, when I realized that I was seriously suffering from a lack of inspiration.  I suppose it started before then, right around the time my poetry went from being subtly sensual to being halfway pornographic.  But at least then, I was writing something.  I've reached a point now when even the prompts on Writersdigest.com have failed to produce the necessary stimulus to get my creative juices flowing.  In other words, I'm stuck.

I hate being stuck.  Not only is my book suffering, but my freelancing isn't going so well either.  It's been like two months since I've written an article.  Hell, it's been about that long since I've finished a thought in my blogs.  I guess it could be stress, along with all the things going on that I'm not at liberty to write about.  I mean, usually I'm pretty much an open book, but these day...

I could always...

In the midst of a fit of artistic desperation, I briefly considered writing a tell-all about the "conscious" hip-hop community.  But then, two thoughts kept me from moving forward with that:

1.  The betrayal of some very deep friendships could create more bad karma than I need, and
2.  Who the hell would wanna read that?  I mean, seriously...

I was also thinking about publishing the book I'd written about Malachi York and the Nuwaubians.  But again, I had some cool peeps in that community, and pissing him off (again) could be more trouble than I need.

Love life? What love life?

I guess part of the problem is that Banana Moon is, for the most part, a romance.  I hadn't had much inspiration in that area since he left. (He being the flavor of the past few months...will I ever settle down?)  I mean, I started dating again, got some pretty cool fellows on the radar...but to be honest I haven't really wanted to go out.  Isn't that sad?  Truth is, I miss him dearly, and I'd go to the ends of the earth--or the swamps of Florida, as it were--to be by his side if I thought he'd care.  From his behavior up until the time he drove away, it appears that he doesn't. 

So, for those who've been wondering...

That's what's been up with me.  I know that this phase will pass, and when it does, I'll be writing again.  Until then, be blessed!

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Wishin' On a Star (originally posted on My Life's Soundtrack January 29, edited for the clean version)

"I'm wishin on a star
To follow where you are
I'm wishin on a dream
To follow what it means

And I wish on all the rainbows
That I see
And I wish on all the people who
Really dream
And I'm wishin on tomorrow, pray
It'll come
And I'm wishin on all the lovin
We've ever done..." (Rose Royce, "Wishing On A Star")

Every morning, while waiting for the bus, my son becomes somewhat of a philosopher. Asking a lot of 'what if...' questions, trying to imagine a future based on choices that we could make or on abilities that we can gain. There is a lot going on in that 5 year old head of his, and even when I don't tell him what's going on, he is always able to discern when I am truly happy or when I'm sad and smiling through the pain.

One morning, while I was in the midst of depression, he said, "Mommy, I wish we could make magic. Then you would be soooo happy!"

I smiled, thinking of what I'd do to the men who made the mistake of getting on my bad side.

*sigh*

"No, David, I don't think that would be such a good idea."

Yesterday, it was:

"Mommy, you need to get married."

"Why, David? What do I need a husband for?"

He smiled, a hint of sadness behind his eyes showed.

"Hugs, Mommy, and kisses."

What could he possibly know about a woman's need for affection? Seriously, how does he know that kissing him and his sisters is different from kissing a man? I suppose observing the differences between the way that I am affectionate with them, and the way I'm affectionate with men shows a difference in dynamics. Still, it is interesting to me that he should be able to separate, at his age, the difference between familial love and the love between a couple.

In any event, I didn't want to think of such things. I told myself I would stop wishing and focus on what is, the tasks at hand, my life as it is.

"OK, David, but what does that have to do with anything? I can kiss and hug anyone."

"Yeah, but love, Mommy. You need love."

He smiled again. That sad, exasperated smile that he gets when I just don't understand.

"And somebody needs a daddy."

These are the difficult moments in my life as a single woman. I mean, on the one hand, I love the freedom. Seriously. I can do what I wish, with the limitation of course that I cannot purposely hurt others. Be with whomever I please, and not have to answer to any of them. I can be the biggest player in town, or sit back and enjoy divine solitude. As long as I take care of my little ones and other responsibilities, my time is my own.

But conversations like this one really remind me that I am not just a single woman, I am a single mother. I cannot help wondering if perhaps I was unduly selfish in deciding to have children without being married. I love my children dearly, don't get me wrong. But when these questions come up, I begin to doubt my ability to give them all that they need.

This morning, we were outside once more. Freezing our butts off waiting for the bus when David saw the fluffy white head of a dandelion stalk sticking up from the ground. He picked it up, and held it up to me--his eyes shining.

"Mommy, look, make a wish!"

"And I'm wishin on all the rainbows
That I see
And I'm wishin on all the people we've
Ever been
And I'm hopin on all the days to come
And days to go
And I'm hopin on days of lovin you so."

Wishing. I try so hard not to do that these days. I mean, I can plan and I can meditate and I can make things happen. But wishin means that you want something that God did not plan for you to have. Honestly, if it's that far out of reach, and no matter how often you beg, the answer is still 'no', wishing can only lead to discontentment and unhappiness.

Still, I don't want to disappoint him. I look into his eyes, see his big smile that looks so much like mine, and I blow as hard as I can watching little dandelion seeds float away in the wind.

A few of them still hang on to the stalk.

"Do you think it's good for one more wish?" I ask.

"Yes, of course. I'm gonna wish for CAKE!"

The rest of the seeds float away into the distance.

Posted by Ekklektia at 8:23 AM 0 comments

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Shamir

(I first posted this piece in a private group on Blackplanet.)

Shamir...
Your name immortalized in song
My heart sings to you
I long to
Feel what I did when you were near me
Calling your name now,
Love, do you hear me

Shamir
I see your eyes
Staring at my soul like my skin's
Not there
See heaven and hell in your stare
Everyday you brought me there
Shamir

My life was crazy with you
Going insane without you
Nightly visions I dream I'm inside you
Waging war inside you

Shamir
The Immortal
In your soul burned eternal fire
Hot like my desire
For you, 'I was consumed and
I swear I didn' care
Shamir, my love,
You were leading me to hell

Then you left me
In the middle of the road
Knowing that my very soul
I would have sold
Just to hear you call my name once more
To feel your breath brush my ear once more...

Shamir, my love
I cry for you
And I know you do not love me
The thickness of your lust has consumed me
Till nothing of me is left
But this intense desire
And this song my heart sings

Shamir....