Missing Love...

I love talking to you every day, throughout the day... Wishing I had someone like you, something like a best friend that I can talk to, be myself, love and feel safe in my life... I'm getting better with the singleness. I'm getting use to it but some days, just some days, I wish for more...

Anyway, you bring all that to the surface... You make me wish for things... Things more than sexual, things deeper than the surface, things that can't be felt by touch or seen with the naked eye but only felt by the heart, vibrations and energy...

I'm having a hard time expressing myself.. Nah, this ain't a love type scribe... Nothing like that... I'm just missing my other half,  my make me better half, my love, my confidante, my friend type scribe... You make me miss love...

Not right now

I always attract the "not right now" guys. The "I just got out of something" guys and the "I'm not ready for anything" type guys. 

You know the ones that are emotionally unavailable, mentally unsound, and brokenhearted guys. The ones that put everybody in jail for another woman's crimes? Yeah, that guy... The ones that want to be up under me, sponging off my goodness and mercy, soaking up my strength that drains me of my energy, my good nutrients, my sound judgment making it impossible for me to love me fully. 

Yet, I'm the one that gets him right for the next door prize. I help his mind get right, his emotions level and mend his broken heart. Then he's ready to take on the world and find his right now, his one, his I want to be in something and I'm ready for everything girl. 

I give so much of myself to the not right now, the I just got out of something and I'm not ready type guys that I feel depleted. I feel like it will never happen to me or for me. That I will never get what I see, help to retrieve or help to relieve because I do so much for these type of guys. 

I know that I have a lot of love to give. I know that when he does find me, I will be ready to give him what he needs, wants, desires and never thought he was missing. So until then, I will keep loving, keep hoping, keep pushing, keep being open for my right now, my I want to be in something and I'm ready for everything to find me type guy. 

ThePoet

I’m not a power to the people, black power, raised fist type poet
Im not a Stokeley Carmichael,
Huey P Newton,
Angela Davis or..
Malcolm X type poet
Im not a Gil Scott-Heron,
the revolution will not be televised type poet
Because I am not a revolutionary
However I wish I were...
Sometimes
I wish I could spew facts about police brutality,
cite statistics about racial injustice,
and the killing of unarmed black men and women Remember,
Sandra Bland
Decynthia Clements
I wish I could bring up every name of every person of color that was killed by the police
Like the young lady in Baltimore..
Y'all remember her..
Korryn Gaines.
She barricaded herself and her five year old son in her apartment
And 5-0 kicked in her door guns blazing
killing her and injuring her son
I wish I could remember more names other than the ones in the news..
Like Trayvon Martin,
Tamir Rice,
Freddie Gray,
Philando Castille,
Eric Gardner,
Terence Crutcher,
 Mike Brown
Or the boah selling cd’s outside the store in Louisiana  Alton Sterling..
no charges filed and countless others...
like Linus Phillip Jr,
killed in Forida during traffic stop
because the windows on his rental was too dark or...
Stephon Clark...
who was shot 8 times in the back as he ran to the back of his grandmothers house while holding his cell phone...
As they stood over his body concocting their lies of being in fear for their lives
I wish I was more in tuned with the struggle that I would dare to be natural,
but ayo.. Im a creamy crack kinda girl..
Im like Pookie from New Jack when it comes to relaxer...
It be calling me man...
I need that white stuff on my edges, on my roots, burning my scalp and overprocessing my tresses...
My shit gotta be smooth.. straight.. laid..
You know that saying, fried, dyed and laid to the side or something like that...
But Im not..
I am not a revolutionary
I am a love type poet
The type poet whose heart pours into her words and spills out her mouth and makes her put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard
That wears her heart on her sleeve type poet
Thats in love with love type poet
Thats always wondering where he at type poet
Thats steady screaming of love, broken hearts, rainbows, and unicorns and shit type poet
But if I was..
A revolutionary...
I would damn sure be an African flag flying,
 big black afro having,
 bamboo earrings,
wooden necklaces,
peace signs,
 daishiki wearing,
marching til my combat boots fall apart
all the while screaming
no justice no peace
with a tightly closed fist raised in the air,
until the heavens opened up...
and our slain,
 lynched,
assassinated,
murdered,
forever gone
but not forgotten ancestors
who paved the way rains down and says
It is done, My Child..
But until then,
 I'll be a love preaching,
steady seeking, a
lways wondering where he at,
broken heart fixer,
rainbows and unicorns and shit..
type poet...
Because Im not a revolutionary....

Peace...

Wondering...

Wondering

I wonder what you’re thinking as I look into your smile

Your smile seems as wide as the ocean and as bright as the morning sun

Your voice as deep as a well buried within the earth but as silky as satin sheets that lay across my body..

I drink in your aura, basking in the gift that is you

I’m like a kid on his birthday, excited at the mere presence of my present,

Yet, trepidatious in opening the package

My hands shake with nervousness as I lean in to touch your skin

My eyes focused on my intended target

My breath labored as if I have been running miles

You take my breath away
You astound me

My finger traces the length of your spine

So easy to get lost in the abyss of your skin

You make me giddy
I giggle at the thought of you

I feel like a school girl seeing her crush for the first time

You make me remember gum drops and penny candy

My sweet tooth coming alive for chocolate, caramel, you

My addiction for sugar has turned into an addiction for you

You are now my drug of choice

My cocaine, my heroin, my mary jane

You are my... 
...muse

My future

And it is you that I choose

But will you reciprocate?

-aDr