Untitled

I will not let a man deflower me

if he does not know my name

I will not let a man deflower me

if he does not know the language of my movement

if he does not know the movement of my stride

if he cannot become one with my stride

I will not let a man deflower me

if he can not read jumbled up words that don't have a flow but i am insistent and I tell him it is my poem

I will not let a man deflower me

If he can not deal with my kinks

my curly hair days

because getting a press it just takes too long

I will not let a man deflower me

if he can not deal with my silent words on the phone or my short texts throughout the day because Im just not feeling it.

If you can not feel me

I mean have those

where you just miss me text

in the middle of night just to hear my reply

just to know that i am alive

if I can not have those i miss you text

that really mean

im attached to your mind heart and soul and your body is bonus

I will not let a man deflower me

If our converations do not flow

If you can not finish my sentences

then I know

you were not even listening

I will not let a man deflower me

If he does not understand that battles of my allergies

And I'm not playing those day where I can't move.

My body swelled up from this harsh environment and this food

Until my skin make look like a burt victim

and my eyes are always watery and I can't stop crying

If you can not fathom those days

then please stop trying

if your getting to this part of the poem and you just disagree because it's just a little too long and i may come on too strong

or it's getting a little too deep

well I'm a poet

an artist and im sensitive about my sh....

But i can not

I can not let a man deflower me

if he can not understand the definition of me

the defintion of Precious

WHO ARE WE: WHAT? WHO ARE WE: WHAT? WHO ARE WE: FEARLESS, HEARTLESS SOULS..

I always liked group discussion; or so I thought I did. I realized I like listening more; everyone seems to be intune with each others thought process. There's a mutual understanding of where everyone is coming from but then there's me. I watch everyone's opinions flow out so effortlessly like they have answered these questions before, like they're an expert. No one is an expert because even an expert is still learning. Everyone says their piece and I wonder why I still to feel isolated; why can't I relate: I am different. I am the person people would call pure because I have not been through an episode of "16 and pregnant"or "When I Was 17". I do not have the scars on my body that show the pain of a miscarriage, the pain of an ex-boyfriend, the pain of living on edge at the age of 14. I do not know what that feels like but I scruntize the pain rooted deeply in their eyes, splling out of their hearts. They search for answers in dark corners and confide in people who are only a step away from their own situation. Where are the adults: No where. These men and women at the age of 20 still struggle with the dark mistakes and pain of when they where ten because no one was wise enough to lead them. And still there is no one wise enough to lead them now but they are too stubborn and they insist on figuring things out. And when stubborness takes course it is too late; too late for chastisizing.

The discussion of this round circle is a little overwhelming I have no expertise in this type of pain; the room is silent. I want to say something but what can i say without making them feel guilty. In one way it's not their fault because a family, a stable family is suppose to be there. When you scrape your knee, they are suppose to be there. When you made a mistake, they are suppose to be there. It's so common to go down a dark road when no one is strong enough to tell you not to or brave enough to go with you. This is what is happening to our children, they are raising themselves. These adults do not know how to address the problem because it runs deep and most of time they are too late. Is it the fast-paced society and money hungry dynamics that are responsible for parents not raising their children? Are children so disconnected with their parents that children can only relate to children? Are parents taking too much of a backseat until the child feels neglected?

I don't want to be the preachy type; I want to the helping type. The issues these children face are deep; they are the heartaches a 30 year old cannot take and it is a shame that age 12 and 13 they still hold that guilt. This generation is heartless because their soul is gone. Their mind cannot cope so they search at the end of the bottle for hope; they search at the end of a pipe for clarity. They just want to be free and they can't take it anymore; they get bold and the ink of numerous tattoos floods their skin. Being in pain and having downfalls should never be cool but it is the norm. This world tells children to grow up fast, take drinks to make yourself laugh, have sex to feel, get high to balance your lows and this shows an open wound should not be covered with a band-aide. In a world like this I cannot relate to the heartache but everyone tells me Precious stay the same. How can I move forward? How can I shine my light in a room full of darkness when I can't found a friend full of hope? It's hard; the battle is long so a leader is what I will become.

The "Poetic Leader" Phoenix

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FAMU HOMECOMING 2010 WITH J. COLE AND WALE

Well, what can I say except it has been a great week maybe the greatest week here thus far. Homecoming events for me started on Monday night at the new gym when Chrisette Michelle came out singing "Fragile". That was the only song I knew by her because I am not a true fan but she is a great performer especially with her emotions. I love how she said "I love you FAMU" as though she met each one of us before. I honestly was not expecting her to come out, it was truly a surprise to me because I was expecting it to be a joke. The host screamed "Chrisette Michelle" and I was pondering. Is this going to be a look-a-like or someone who sounds like her? I'm thinking this is a talent show so maybe the host calls out every talent like they are a famous musician. But there she was in the flesh singing her heart out on stage and begging for crowd participation. The crowd seemed a little bit uninterested which did not bother her true fans lip singing and screaming out of key. I could feel their love for her and I opened up my heart to her to see what did they love? She seems really down-to-earth and so had alot of energy with a great combination for an artist. Sadly, I had to leave the Comedy/Talent show early but according to my room mates and friends I did not miss anything because the comedian was a bored with sexual innuendos. Even though last year there were sexual innuendos I could actually laugh at them and that was not the comedian's main joke. But I am guessing that was the subject of every comedian's joke this year. It is a shame how sex has become the headline to get people's attention. So leaving out of that gym upset that I had to miss this event because a crucial meeting that aids my craft, I am elated to hear Chrisette was the best performance that night. Unfortunately my meeting was canceled last night so I could have stayed and participate in the crowd doing the wave on less than mediocre performers. Yes, I will admit Florida A&M is tuff crowd but our peer are always the hardest to please but I applaud those students who participated.

The next day tuesday I had a study session for my journalism class which was so unfocused and unorganized. Yea that was disappointing at 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. I sat at a round table with six class mates to talk about adverbs, adjectives and subject-verb agreement. Oh the joy, I know that is not the way I should feel about my major but sometimes it is so tedious, I get frustrated with the rules and trying to remember them. But in between studying we discussed the comedian, Kevin Hart who has a new dvd named "Seriously Funny". We looked at YouTube videos by Hotdamnirock who is hilarious, he just talks about the funny side of life in a real way. He is not corny at all, some of the subjects he talks about are things everyone has witness in their life so it does not matter who you are you can still relate. But with all the laughter there was less studying so we need someone out of the group that will get us on track.

The following day Wednesday I had a Geography Test and my last test was suppose to be Friday morning but it was changed on wednesday afternoon to thursday afternoon. Changing the test date was bitter sweet becuase I would be able to sleep in but then again that means I have to really study now. After that last test I was drained it was wednesday and raining which did not seem like Homecoming to me so I went home. I had time to take a nap before my five-thirty class but I was so drained I could not even sleep. So after I feel asleep in my five-thirty class I was ready to go home. Three test in a row I was stressed and and tired, asking the week to just end. On friday I intended to sleeo and study but I ended up getting my nails done which got messed up but saturday trying to wash my hair. Yes I was upset fifteen dollars down the drain. So, friday was a fun day and it reduced the stress of this week.

THEY'RE SUPPOSE TO PROTECT US BUT THEY CONTINUE TO PROTECT THEMSELVES AND SHOOT US.

My emotions are always sporadic when incidents like this appear ever few months but my eyes always have the same emotion of sadness. My heart aches; how do you send your son to college out of state and receive him in a body bag? It's harsh reality of police brutality and what makes it worst is that it is so ubiquitous with black males. Black males are so rare, so strong, so distinct but they are taken from this earth daily and I shed tears every time because I know that's one less father, one less son, one less brother, one less nephew or uncle erased too soon. These incidents can easily cause trepidation or mutiny in a young black male's eyes whenever he sees "the boys in blue" because he may think of what his parents or mother has told him, to obey the law, stay out of trouble or cooperate with the officer. It is a shame to walk out your house and feel unprotected towards police because sometimes their judgment cannot be trusted. They are supposed to protect civilians but instead too many times we are mistaken for a criminal. This mistaken identity always causes the innocent to die; the ones that were trying to stay away from the situation. RIP Danroy Henry a 20-year-old football player from Pace University. I know you were innocent, I know you probably had that look I your eyes that I must obey the office and follow instructions. I know my condolences cannot bring this young man's life back along with Amadou Diallo, Patrick Dorismond, Timothy Stansbury Sean Bell and Ayana Jones. Also condolences to the lives lost in similar situations but their story did not make it to the paper but it was left at the crime scene. I wish guns didn't hurt and words can heal but that is not the way the world works. Police departments really need to sit down with their officers and have a psychiatrists on call because I know they endure a lot on a daily basis and they are all on edge. The only way to reduce the police brutality incidents is to make sure officers have a time where they can release their problems because this is an oppressive situation. Officers adrenaline are pumping at the scene but that adrenaline takes the life of innocent people and I can't cry anymore for this because crying doesn't help only making a difference does.

The "Emotional" Phoenix

If you would like to know more about the fatal shooting of Danroy Henry please follow the link and pass this message to others.

http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2010/10/20/sen-brown-takes-case-massachusetts-football-players-death/

The "Emotional" Phoenix

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WHEN AND WHERE? DO YOU REMEMBER ? WHAT IS HAPPINESS?

I used to know this girl. She was the fashionable out of the two of us. I think of her often, she left me or maybe I left her; we stopped talking in 2006 when I moved. But our distance grew in 2007 when I couldn't seem to contact her, the person I missed the most. I lost her in my methods of assimilation, she forgot and I couldn't remember our friendship. It seemed like an alternate reality. Looking for comfort and love I didn't noticed she got packed away in an unopened box in the living room written with the name Precious. Maybe that was her when the mic to my beloved karaoke system broke. It was her when I wore my brown boots in the dirt, it was her when I ran on that track during vigorous practices, it was her when I wore a fanny pack. It was her and sometimes when I realized I lost her I look in the places where we enjoyed each others company the most. I catch a Jetblue flight to the Big Apple in search of her, sometimes I find her sometimes I don't and most of the times she doesn't back with me on the plane. She is my fourteen year old self, when I fall a look for pieces of her to cover my scars. She was a different kind of artist from I am now she was conscious but never truly had time to think as meticulously as she does now. She was free and she was unaware of peoples' harsh motives, so I guess you can say she was blindfolded and deaf but not naive. I miss her so I look for her every summer even december if I can in the Big Apple where we enjoyed each others company the most. So what is happiness the days when we reunite or the days where she is forgotten and I just live my life.

The "Lost" Phoenix

Poetry

Late Night Listener

Remember when I use to text you

Hours before dawn

When sleeping kids dream of beautifully painted pictures

Before the roaster croaks

Before when you held on to every word I type like it would be the last time you read it

Remember that

Well I reminsce my love of the late night listener

I ramble on about life and my expectances

And you agree or throw in your two cents

But one night I stopped

I stopped telling you my thoughts because I wanted to become your late night listener

Sadly my inbox was empty

Your thoughts did not fill one line

My sent messages of questions invaded your mind

Was I asking too much?

Can a listener ever talk?

I let my listener go one night

But he never came back.

SECOND YEAR, NEW GAMES

First of all this might be the longest blog ever but this is because this is another experience in my life that I have learned from, it's so interesting this tricky game of chess. I have no idea where to start except if you know the type of person I am, you know I am quiet but I have a lot of heart and I am very generous. I make the craziest facial expressions when I agree disagree or when I'm uninterested. Last year at FAMU I was in the cafe and I was having a conversation with these two guys on how the view girls. This was the most funniest conversation I have had and it was so real, there was no sugar-coating. They just told me how they felt especially there reaction when they get rejected. You know what I agreed that rejection does hurt your ego but to lash out and insult the girl well that was just unacceptable. They guys explained to me when they are trying to talk to a girl their attention grabber is "Aye Girl". Now "Aye Girl" to me, in my eyes is annoying because number one that is not my name. I know you are trying to get my attention but you could say excuse me how are you doing? Sometimes none of that works but I would rather hear "Hi, how are you doing" more than "Aye Girl", "Lil' Mama","Sweetheart" or the infamous "Come Here Girl". These terms are so broad and sometimes depending on the tone so disrespectful. But if the male does not get the response that he wants because he has put his self out there, all hell breaks lose. The terms become vulgar or physical by a pull of your arm, which is disrespectful to a lady because she does not know you.

So back to topic when a male's ego is hurt him lashing out is a way for him to feel better about his rejection. But when they are ignored with no response at all well then the girl is called stuck up which not necessarily true. She could just not want to be bother with a conversation, she wants you to get out of her face or the one everyone seems to ignore, shyness. Some guys fail to remember every girl is not the same, not every girl is the type to go toe-to-toe with insults, not every girl is going to sit there and flirt with you, bat her eyes and give you her number. Some girls just want you to leave them the ___ alone. No girl can be placed in a box, no girl is the same so your approach with every girl should fit her personality. Most importantly as hard as rejection is you have to end it on a positive note.

The "Boxless"Phoenix