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

 

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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