Its been a while since I have sat down to compose. Time keeps moving and the thoughts we have become reality and reality gets more cluttered with others. Which is why I had to cut others out. With a steel blade and a coarse heart. For years I have been tending to the business of others, overlooking my passion/purpose…and that has caused catashtrophes, setbacks, mishaps…call it what you want it happened. A dear, dear, beloved friend of mines is no longer walking amongst this earth and I shattered my heart valve. Left me gasping for air…still…had to let people go. Had to dismiss and not care if I hurt some feelings. Could care less if Im being talked about and berated as a result of self-preservation. There is a time in our lives when we have to understand what are we breathing for…what is the sole reason for my existence. The path that was started takes on a different form…we become a person that is unrecognizable in the mirror. How to stand it…How to look and not like oneself…Ive been there…how to abuse yourself and forget your worth…that has happened. At 33 years of age today I am speaking a new language…I have a new step and it matters me none your opinions. Talk about my bad habits and overlook your own. Look at my falls and consider them fails and forget you are human also. It disgusts me how we can judge so openly and freely. We can bring down the human spirit of others. without regards. without regrets. Though in life their shouldn’t be any regrets when it comes to telling the truth and having to move forward…there should be something said for a regretless person whose intent is to hurt. We writers tend to think that at all times we must sit down and have an agenda, that a freewrite is a jumbled mess that has no direction…though I am learning, the abstract road is the more artful road. And fact is…if we dont take time to release the random thoughts lined along the walls of intelligence then we are just robotic conditioned beings…taking life too seriously. And I am the most serious. Seriously. My humor is deadpan, damn near cynical and I cant take a joke that reeks of corn. Kepp it. People I have worked with, in poetry, tend to think Im too….something….Kisha is….fill in the blanks and kiss my ass Ive decided to handle that…some wait for you to explode…especially when that is what you have always exposed. So I smile at myself for reasons God and I know. Im a motherf*%%er I once told someone and I meant it. We must be real to get fixed. I am a unique individual that handles people accordingly. It has been a skill that I was born with…attracting people, helping people…giving too much of myself to people. not anymore…unless I want to…so I should say, not unwillingly am I giving myself up. This gift, this poetry is what I struggle with.
its easy to write a poem, to look for words, to create a story, to spell words correctly, to look up words to go with the word Im trying to replace, to form, to craft. it is very exciting to take the ego off at the door and just do poetry. i didnt come into this art to be judged , to be berated, to dismissed, to let the ego of others flood my spirit, which is calm, pure, loving. A bitch I have been and with good reason when it comes to poetry. I am relevant for a reason. and I have to fight with gossip, trailing trickling to me, hurting my feelings, dismissing my longevity, smiling in my face…A good woman I love, G-Style put on her status one time, and Im paraphrasing, if you dont like me you are not obligated to hug me, touch me, talk to me. Period. I touch and agree. wholeheartedly. There has to be something said about people who dont love themselves. That is the only group of people I feel sorry for…the loveless…those who were not taught how to love properly, those who dont know what it feels like to be loved on…that is a beautiful feeling. Love is the greatest of them all…
This is my renewal because I have watched layers of myself fall to the ground and form a pile around the base of my feet. I have watched death and touched it and smelled it and embraced it and prayed with it and told it to skip over and keep moving. It is becoming easier to belive in God after death. I am realizing that is the only thing that contains the pain which spills on the highways of our souls. We are all dragonflies. Harmonious creatures with purpose. We must all take time to smell our roses, our gardens. We are bittersweet to the end and their isnt any turning back. You cant contain the Joy that is my cousin nor my heart. the noses that keen out of my face I earned. It is my birthright…to be tall, and majestic, and bold…I was born to take the stage and release fluid movements motions. stages arent always in clubs and poetry doesnt care about a point. Salinger and slam taught me its not about the points its the poetry. its not about what you do its how you do. Its not about you, my people. Its about us.
peace and thank you!