Great Expectations

I sent a group text the other day to my family telling them the great news that FINALLY I was a published author. I live in reality, I know that I am self-published and it’s not exactly the same hoopla that comes with picking up an agent and being funded by a large publishing company, but still, yay me! My siblings were congratulatory, my parents remained silent. It was the first stone—felt like I swallowed it and could feel it travel down my esophagus and weigh down on my belly.

I saw them later that day, and I know my mother is the type to have cupcakes, say congratulations and ask questions—but when I got to their house it was business as usual. My parents are not villains. I had to pull my eldest daughter out of her former school, I can’t afford before and after care by myself so she now lives with them during the weekdays attending their neighborhood school as well as my four-year old daughter. My parents are not villains. They give me groceries when I am poor and encourage me to go to mental health counseling and provide me with plenty of scripture as advice.

My parents are not villains—they just don’t like the person that I have become. This divorced, formerly broken, independent and kind of whacky woman is not anyone they want to hug or congratulate or give a slap on the back. She is a little broken and way too open. She is not Christian enough; and I know that it bothers them that they can’t quite tell whether I’m going to heaven or hell. Well I don’t really know either, and I had to come to a place and take a moment to stop fretting about it. I’ve had to force myself to slow down and learn to be happy and accepting and to take life one day at a time. And as for this day, I am proud of myself because I never thought I would be here. If you had asked me where I would be at this time 5 years ago I would have said, “Lying in the fetal position on the floor of a psych ward contemplating where my life went so wrong.” I have exceeded my own expectations and I am going to bask in the glory of this moment even if it kills me to smile and I have to do it through faltering lips.

In spite of the men that didn’t value me enough to treat me with respect and dignity…

In spite of what I used to lay awake at night telling myself…

In spite of how the “Christians” may view me and my life choices…

In spite of rejection from the people I desire support from the most…

Ijustwanttowrite

 

 

I am here. And I will continue to shut out the voices of the doubters and unbelievers in order to do the thing that makes me happy. I just want to write.

Click here, to find out more and/or purchase my new chapbook Trigger: A Downward Spiral.

Apology Accepted

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Apology accepted. I needed to hear this. I am a little ashamed to admit that sometimes living up to the increasingly demanding beauty standards of the black man is frustrating.
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I am still disproportionately salty that my booty doesn’t twerk
If only my stomach were flatter I could better appreciate my worth
If only my arms were thinner and my smile could be more perfect
Then I could be these women getting all of this attention, love and
Affection
is what is craved, and the chance to be loved for who I am
Outwardly tall and proud is how I stand
but in weakest moments I can’t help but seek approval from a man

Visit my website for more: http://www.whiskeyandpoetry.com

Undive/Middle River: Salvador Dali Tribute

Happy Birthday to my favorite artist, Salvador Dali!

To honor and celebrate this day, each year I try to collaborate with my best friend (another favorite artist and painter) Traci, and I’m really excited about our plans this time around!

Tune into the blog all this week as we combine the world of creative writing with modern art, as I’ll be sharing poetry and writing pieces to go along with her visuals. I feel honored to be involved in this collaboration. Traci is an up and coming artist who produces bold works that never cease to pull at my heart strings and inspire me to be better, work harder and feel all the things. Please please follow her blog: A Purple Paintbrush, and visit her website www.tracilturner.com to view and purchase more of her works.

Undive

Undive ~ Traci L. Turner

I swim, to the middle of your river and
Stop
Let me drown
In my own expectations and frivolities– all the lies you’ve said to me
The scent of you all over me
Washed in these waters; I can’t get clean
Or rid of the stink of reality
If the illusion of truth lies on the surface
I choose to sink
Never to emerge from underneath
Too broken and damaged
Irrevocably

Sunday Morning

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Our love is Sunday morning
Piping hot coffee with your favorite creamer
Preaching the baptized to become believers
Walking, singing, dancing…kindergarten math
The grass beneath bare feet, relaxing bubble bath
Driving 70 miles per hour– countryside
As cool and as comfy as a pillow’s backside
Umbrella in case of rain
Penicillin to dull mild pain

Explosive meteoric collisions don’t apply to us
We’re low maintenance, soft spoken, little or no fuss
No one is jealous, spiteful or unkind
We’re sweet puffs of green and quality time
Hugs from behind and holding hands
The calm of water lapping gently over the sand
Long talks sandwiched between joyous laughter
The obedience of the submissive to the chosen master

You and me babe, we fit together perfectly
I sprout leaves and you are the root of our tree
When the storm comes we move and bend together
Then the it’s over and we worship rainbows forever
Building, growing, living in such simplicity
You are my Sunday morning, babe; you make life easy…