shades of…

he said he was lonely in his bed. that he needed her to show up. so she did. and though it had been over a decade since she’s felt him…there was no anxiety.  the call to get to him was just as natural as though it happened daily. he needed her.
she boarded the plane for the quick flight. an hour later she made her exit…or her entrance into his arms. and he held her. right there. and moments later she whispered “we have to go“.  so they left. … and arrived at his place. as they walked in, he asked if she was thirsty. she said yes. …..so she drank.  then she asked if he was hungry. he said very. so he ate.
and then they sat and had a meal together. and talked. he admired her afro. his queen.  she played in his dreads. her king.  and each time he spoke her name, she smiled. there was just something.  it still sounded so right.  they walked along the beach, which was right out his door. he held her hand. spoke her name. made her smile. and she listened. he held her close. spoke her name, on her lips. his breath was warm. welcoming.  they went back in. and then, so did he…
two days later, they kissed goodbye. she boarded the plane knowing it wouldn’t be another decade before the next visit. something new had begun between them.
he needed her to come. so she did. so did he.

black love

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when the hunter becomes the hunted

There is something -a great feeling- when you finally get what you’ve worked so hard for: a degree, a position in your career, a car, a house, a vacation, a love.

Ever heard of the story of Jacob and Rachel in the bible? Jacob saw Rachel out and about one day, had a quick conversation with her, and basically fell in love (when a man knows…he KNOWS) went and struck a deal with Rachel’s dad. the dad said work for me for 7 years and then you can get to marry Rachel…. and Jacob worked. Seven years passed and on the wedding night the dad basically said “yeah, no. you gotta marry the older one first…work 7 more years THEN you can have Rachel.”  So Jacob worked. and FINALLY got Rachel. He worked FOURTEEN YEARS to get Rachel.  Of course back then they were living till they were 800/900 years old, so 14 years wasn’t nuthin.   But still, he didn’t put in two weeks of work, he worked for YEARS to get RACHEL. showed her and her daddy he was serious.  His love was real.  The story following is filled with drama and hurt…but Jacob LOVED Rachel. Why? Because that’s who he wanted.  SHE was his aim and goal.

Now what if the story was turned.  Rachel saw Jacob, ran home told her dad “I saw him! The man I want to marry!!! Please daddy! Please please please make this happen!!!”  Jacob wouldn’t have to work no where as hard for Rachel and probably wouldn’t have loved or appreciated her half as much.  Why, cause she made it easy.  He married Leah cause he had to. He didn’t work for Leah. she was handed off to him.  Leah did everything she possibly could to gain is favor…be his favorite.  But Jacob LOVED RACHEL.  SHE’S who he worked hard to get.

Moral of the story:  Ladies, you don’t have to grab your spears, bows and arrows “cause he takin to long“.  Whether it be online or In Real Life, set the trail.  Leave your tracks. leave your “scent”, then let him find you.  and of course, don’t just surrender at first site.  Come on now.  Let him work a little. I don’t care how modern times are now, or how “things have changed”.  As far as the pursuit of love, things remain the same.  Men are hunters in search of “THE one”.  The harder the catch, the “sweeter the victory“.

Choices to make: you can either be Leah or Rachel.  the lazy duck in the woods, or the daring tiger.

Beloved, Be Loved.

49 years and…

many children, twice as many grandchildren, and you still struggle to respect me.

ran three jobs for years to make sure that this family doesn’t fall in-need of anything, and you still struggle to respect me.

fell into various types of financial struggle because you refused to do right, and you still struggle to respect me.

bought homes, sold homes, bought, lost, started over, back on track.  Kids stayed fed, clothed, loved, cared for, well-educated and launched off on their own, while you sat back and took credit for it all….

I’ve prayed and fasted and rebuked and demanded righteousness.  I’ve fought spiritual battles on your behalf. Emotional and physical-health battles as well.  I’ve never given up….and still you struggle.

I’ve gone from shoveling snow to now sweeping up the leaves in the Florida heat because (you refuse to pay to get the tree chopped down) you can’t see well enough to do it, and yet you still find it hard to honor me…

years later, as pain riddles my body from all the work and heavy lifting and your sight fails you, it’s still me. Caring and guiding and cleaning up after you as needed. fulfilling all your demands still… is my breakfast ready?! what’s for lunch? why isn’t my dinner on the table yet?!?! … and I make it all happen.

At no point in our almost half century of marriage had I ever given you any reason to not honor and respect me for the woman I am, yet you refuse…

and so I’ve struggled to understand why…why you won’t talk right.  do right. act right. and then I see…. it’s because you struggle to respect yourself why you struggle to respect me.  There’s a continuous war raging within you. Regrets of things you’ve done wrong. to yourself. to me. to our marriage.  you are in constant fear that I will leave you for someone better. someone who will treat me better.  someone who will care for me in the great and wonderful ways that I deserve.  you know you don’t deserve me.  so you war within yourself. your struggle is with you. with yourself. not with me.

It’s not me. it’s definitely you.

But I’m still here.  I will continue to prepare your meals and guide you and pray with and for you and our children and their children.  I will continue to always make our house a home.  And when your inner-war turns outward… I will simply ignore you. leave you standing right in that place.  and when you exit that moment…your dinner will be ready.

Daily Prompt: Unravel

that one time of the month when the lioness in me goes to rest, or riles up in unexplained strength…

it depends on the moment I guess.

that week when all the thoughts and emotions that I’ve held together -kept control of- comes tumbling. like the little trick cans that you open and everything comes flying out. that one day when if what you’re saying isn’t logical then I just don’t want to deal because my emotions are on hiatus, or at the forefront…

it depends on the moment I guess.

I say “it’s that time, so don’t judge my reactions”  but the truth is, this is the perfect time to understand me, because whatever I’ve been holding in, is now breaking through.

I unravel.

like a mummy coming undone. the skeleton of my thoughts/emotions being exposed.

via Daily Prompt: Unravel

I just had to…

I saw this poem online and loved it.  Therefore I am posting it right here.  Read it at your own risk.

Written by Maggie Estep |

Sex Goddess

 I am THE SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE 
so don't mess with me 
I've got a big bag full of SEX TOYS 
and you can't have any
'cause they're all mine
'cause I'm
the SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE.
"Hey," you may say to yourself, 
"who the hell's she tryin' to kid, 
she's no sex goddess," 
But trust me, 
I am 
if only for the fact that I have 
the unabashed gall 
to call 
myself a SEX GODDESS,
I mean, after all,
it's what so many of us have at some point thought,
we've all had someone
who worshipped our filthy socks
and barked like a dog when we were near
giving us cause
to pause and think: You know, I may not look like much
but deep inside, I am a SEX GODDESS.
Only
we'd never come out and admit it publicly
well, you wouldn't admit it publicly 
but I will
because I am
THE SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE.
I haven't always been 
a SEX GODDESS
I used to be just a mere mortal woman
but I grew tired of sexuality being repressed
then manifest
in late night 900 number ads
where 3 bodacious bimbettes
heave cleavage into the camera's winking lens and sigh:

"Big Girls oooh, Bad Girls oooh, Blonde Girls oooh,
you know what to do, call 1-900-UNMITIGATED BIMBO ooooh.
"

Yeah
I got fed up with the oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh
I got fed up with it all
so I put on my combat boots
and hit the road with my bag full of SEX TOYS
that were a vital part of my SEX GODDESS image
even though I would never actually use
my SEX TOYS 
'cause my being a SEX GODDESS
it isn't a SEXUAL thing
it's a POLITICAL thing
I don't actually have SEX, no
I'm too busy taking care of
important SEX GODDESS BUSINESS,
yeah,
I gotta go on The Charlie Rose Show
and MTV and become a parody
of myself and make
buckets full of money off my own inane brand
of self-righteous POP PSYCHOLOGY
because my pain is different
because I am a SEX GODDESS
and when I talk,
people listen 
why ?
Because, you guessed it,
I AM THE SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE
and you're not.

LUSH (conversational)

via Daily Prompt: Lush

The first thing that came to my mind was that song…”can I get a REEE-FILL?…feel like a conversational lush, cause I don’t know how much is too much”  that has to be my favorite line in that song.  I heard it and thought about it…I like that.  I love that.  “Conversational Lush”.  Yes, talk to me. Drown me in your words. Pull me in with your speech. Intoxicate me with your terminologies. Let me DWI by your vocabulary, get home and stagger into the house, lay across my bed, my mind swirling around your language.  Let me wake up with a hangover…of your parlance.

Can I get a refill?