Bread And Butter

I enjoyed him by observation. No, I do not know him, fully; especially not enough to determine how truthful his words are. After all, he is an orator. His mouth is what’s used to earn his bread and butter.

Advertisements

Cuddle Me

I want to feel you cozy up to me on the inside; you know, inside my feelings. You feel so good there. andre kohn

artist: andre kohn, the kiss

If Fear Wasn’t A Factor

If fear wasn’t a factor, I’d run to him. I’d love him—best I know how (that’s fear being a factor).

I’d bring him comfort and solace—if he’d take it (that’s fear speaking too).

Fear, you need to have several seats.

From my current point of view, I like him; his kindness wisdom quirkiness and humor.

Funny I never thought of returning to him—just thought us to be old flames with no embers smoldering.

Since his status change and he reached out to me, I’m seriously considering him.

Fear speaketh: What makes you think he wants you?

Fear, I asked you nicely to have several seats !

Well, as you can see, fear is a factor here. I need God’s guidance.

Long ago, I fearfully ran into someones space, not his arms, to rescue me from my torment. I put my own selfish desire first—to be comforted without giving comfort or love.

Got hitched.

Was miserable.

God wasn’t key; we were barely speaking.

I wanted what I wanted and it ended as a hot mess. Broken-hearted people scattered all over the lawn with rings, a name change, and papers.

Ten years out and I hope I’m wiser. I’ve learned the hard way that you can unwisely put yourself in the midst of something you can’t sustain. Or, you can seek wise counsel to live your dreams with fear not being a real factor at all.

I‘m choosing to be fearless this time by…

… seeking wise-counsel and walking in it.

… giving love as well as receiving it.

… being on speaking terms with God about his promises for me—yes and amen.

Fear, you are not a factor.

Sucker Punched

Why are the young so happy?

Full of optimism
Full of glee

Nothing’s too big for their imagination

Anything’s possible

Then LIFE strikes…

One stumble: “Oh I’m good. Just a slight misstep. I got this.”

One stumble turns into years of pileup.

Your light dims.

Sucker-punch after sucker-punch.

Bitterness & apathy are no longer weekend guests; they’ve become unwanted tenants.

Folks start peddling you all kinds of sworn tested & true remedies in the name of “help you feel better”.

Thing is, they only work for so long before you just shrivel up and die while still wide awake…

C3F5616F-39E6-497B-9C6F-6B43143BE9D4
Max Ginsburg, Artists 

Bless Our Hearts

Artist: Elizabeth Catlett

My heart feels kinda bad ‘cause my man done gone.

Wudin’ mine no mo’ anyhow, bless his heart.

He won’t even give me da time o’ day.

I feels pitiful ‘cause I wants to rekindle some thangs that used to be.

I thought the fire was out but sumpin’ done sparked.

Don’t mean I wants to really strike up no romance ‘cause too many years done gone by.

But my l’il self tried ta reach out, and, maybe my efforts was in vain.

I feels kinda foolish now—shoulda let him make a move.

Aw, but he didn’t.

So, my l’il fast tail couldn’t wait.

Now, I’s just gone have ta put this here woe aside ‘cause it’s so unbecoming.

©2012 Nesi Writes

 

Mister High Maintenance

Karen Joy Picketts, Portrait of Oscar Wilde
Art: Karen Joy Picketts, Portrait of Oscar Wilde

When I think of high maintenance, I envision a woman. Recently, my perception of high maintenance turned to men.

Some men emit signals requiring women to go beyond their real identity just to be with them.

This message all too often is not verbalized to the woman.

The meta message thumps…“To be with me; you must…”

Analyzing this pulsating thump and how it dictates some relationships, I’ve concluded: being you instead of some fabricated humanoid is best.

Like and enjoy yourself—quirks goodness and all.

I encourage a fast to sacrifice “do this, and maybe I will give you some attention.”

Mister, there’s a High Maintenance Woman already seasoned to accommodate your high maintenance self; so step to her.

Ladies, know there are men in your league who do not need cultivating—they are awaiting you.

Let’s keep it honest and real, High Maintenance Man, we are vastly different in our desires and needs.

Au revoir…

©2012 Nesi Writes

Writer Man

Art: Oliver Ray, Man Writing

What are you doing, thinking, being, freeing?

Like a see-saw or whirling twirling swirling but never unnerving

I do dig you like an ole school record

‘Cause, Baby, I love your ways

You are re-quieting enticing spicing like the House of Atredis, my Lord

You are worthy I’m glad you know that

Float on, soar, and carry on your Highness

Beauty is her name—so accommodating, ego stroking spirit of yours elating

I don’t know if I trust her, but, if you do, if that pleases you, go on through to do you ‘cause she is pursuing you though you already knew

We all need our Strokerz for they give us that flesh zinger that twinge and fix we need

I guess the rest of us have to sort through our own mess as we see your groupies serenade you, throw their word panties at you

It sickens me when some floozy tries to woo you with her honey dipped words rolling off her lips

The pretty ones make us wince because we don’t believe in our own beauty (have mercy) see our own worth our own value if we did we would not be jealous it’s true

Pure jealousy haunts me when I see you flirting with those Prancers and Posers because I can’t have you

Now, I see that I want to own you, control you, make you the property that I so loathe being for anyone else…

©2012 Nesi Writes