Poem

Liquid fire
racing up my veins
driving my pulse
forcing the beat of my heart
in rapid cadence
as I think of you
I grind against the vine
stretch taught my mind
and yet..
nestled in my heart
exciting my daydreams..
is your beautiful visage
your talented hands
your smoldering eyes
that delightful smell
I close my eyes and it is there
you are there
with your boundless love
but..
when I open them
when I open my eyes
I wake up..

My mother...

I remember.. walking through the grocery store with her. How the little old ladies would look at us with stares of uncertainty...
I remember calling for her, and laughing at the strange looks.
Their logic? How someone of chocolate skin could produce such a fair skinned child.
My logic? It was just funny, the wide eyes, the slack jaws...
I remember her asking me questions sometimes, as if my opinions really mattered, and I would respond with whatever answer I knew she would like most. Her softness, her largeness, larger than life... encompassing the world...

I was always sensitive to that... the kadence of her voice, the tightness of jaw... the tension in the air... If she was upset, then I was upset. If she was hurt or outraged.. I was hurt or outraged.

I know of days when it seemed like it was just her and me. My sisters and brother would stay with a relative... the wrinkle in her brows when she couldn't afford to pay for all the groceries... the feeling of shame when we had to put some things away...
These things remain close to my heart, as our shared pain. Our struggle... when I was hers and she was all that was right in the world.
Even when...
even when her face would change, her eyes widen with anger, and she would hold a knife to my throat and threaten to cut me. Perhaps I said the wrong thing? I could not please her... Should I have looked at her a different way?
Or when the dark plastic trash bag descended over my head, and she held it there when I struggled, desperate for air. She held it there and said. "Don't play with these any more."
She was life and she was death..
She was death when her fingers encircled around my neck, and she squeezed... I was strong enough to fight it. I was strong enough to pull her fingers away.. and yet I did not. I was mesmerized at the anger I saw there. The emptiness that she had for me in that moment...
She was life when we'd play Christmas songs, and we'd dance around the house, with no presents under the tree and no guarantee that we would have any.
She is love and hate.. my mother.
She is love when I think of all the things she gave up, so that we could eat.
She is hate when I think of the word 'stupid', or when I collapsed doing dishes, crawling my way to her room, needing her help, and she found no need to rise from the couch to come to my aid...
My mother is my past, she is my present, and while I desperately try to struggle to regain the healing, while I struggle to understand the bruises and the hugs overlapping... overlapping so that I am unsure whether or not I can fully hate her, knowing I will always love her. I struggle with the knowledge that I can never fully trust her.
Always confusion...
Always in angles, in curves and circles...
Never a straight, definitive line.
Then again... sometimes relationships are like that...
Even relationships between mother and child..

I don't do rational

The most interesting lesson I've learned this life is this...
No one is going to put themselves out to make me happy.
This is interesting, because while this lesson has been internalized in me for the last couple of years, I was never able to find the words to make it... well... solid and rational. I owe a great deal of thanks to a female artist who happens to write songs that I feel. This is profound because I never much loved rap. Nope, but she's made songs that I have actually bought, and enjoy. Her name is Temper, and I'll throw a link for you, if you are reading this and are into music do check her out. https://www.youtube.com/user/Temper3k9
I follow what speaks to me. This speaks to me. Anyway, she said in one of her Q and As.. this would be on another channel she has.. she said "DO you know anyone who will risk their own happiness just to make you happy? It's not going to happen."
It makes so much sense.
No one is going to do that. I've learned over time that no one wants the responsibility to make you happy. Now there may be some that are willing to take on a partial role in it, but you are pretty much alone. I know, it's kind of disheartening. Especially for those of us who are sensitive and still hold out this irrational hope that someday a love all powerful will come and truly change the world..
On the other side of that though, it's kind of empowering. If we allow ourselves to digest the fact that the soul mate ideology is a myth, we can see life for what it is. It is a learning experience. We can see love for what it is, what it is not, and what it CAN be... We can see our mistakes in love as growing opportunities. Through loving others, we are made aware of the flaws, and the strengths within ourselves.
You don't have to love everyone you date, but you can keep your heart open for the kind of love that is lasting.
Let us focus on that.
While we are focusing on that, let's never forget the love we have for self. It is self who is responsible for the care and feeding of self. Once you are an adult, you are thrust into the world and it is sink or swim honey. So... swim, and really and truly understand what it means to love self. First rule just say it.
"I am worthy of love"
Go ahead and say it. Say this too..
"I am good enough to be loved. "
Now, digest those words, every day. Regardless of what relationship you are in, regardless of what other people think or feel toward you. Focus truly on you.
I know it's hard, but nothing worth doing is easy.  Write it down if you need to, say it over and over until you can feel it. Go  through your past hurts and understand that people hurting cause hurt in you, but it is up to you how you internalize it. Never let another person's opinion of you reflect on how you view yourself. You are the creator of your own universe. Only you see from your own eyes, hear from your own ears, and hear from your own skin. See, feel, be, and love you.
Go back if you have to. Pick yourself up from the darkness and understand that weaknesses are only weaknesses if YOU view them to be. Everyone has lessons to learn, and no one is carved from gold.
You are however, made up of flesh, bone, and spirit. Like everyone else on this planet. JUST like everyone else. There is no one better than you. No one less than you. Ingest this knowledge, internalize it. Make it your own.

The light in me acknowledges the light in you...
-Orhea the Dreamer

Things... and excerpt!

Good evening!
So,  when I talk about my writing process.. which I don't often, I often mention that it is at random. Oh I know I know that most writers say just write! Just write and it will come.
Can I tell you though, sometimes I come out with poetry, lyrics, or bits of random? Other times brilliant scenes emerge from stories whose plot lines are not yet written.
Someday I will be orderly, but not today! Anyhow, last week I wrote a scene for Thraxia, which is my major project I"m still plunking away at. I debated within myself if I wanted to make it a YA, and thus more relatable to a younger audience, or should I leave it adult oriented? Well... after much debate with myself I have decided that Thraxia is meant for adult audiences. It's an exploration not just on gender expression and sexuality, but also an exploration on things like race as well as religion and philosophy in general. Those are big topics, and I want to express Jade honestly and completely... So anyway here is a scene for Jade let me set this up for you.
Jade has just entered into an area of the underground she did not know existed. The people she meets, called 'Demons' by the Rowe, come in colors shes never seen before, but most interesting are these people's love of bathing... So much so that there is a law about it.. Here umong the demons there are certain concepts new to her. Nudity for one thing... in Thraxia, especially if you are a child, gender neutrality is important. You run too much risk of sexual assault if you cause attention to yourself, therefore the people of Thraxia are typically very personal, and those on the streets wear many layers of ragged clothing... So it is not suprised that Jade has not been naked in front of people. The whole concept of nakedness is quite frightening.. but in this scene it is bath time.. and the Demon's policy on cleanliness is strict. ..

--
The first thing I noticed as the initial burst of steam cleared from my view were the tits...
Tits of all sizes. Some heavy and sagging, some firm, high, and roung.
Well... they were all round. Except for those with almost no flesh there... Yeah there were tits that didn't quite look like tits, and the only way to know they belonged to grown women were the enlarged areolas in various shades. Their nipples were fat, like the tip of my pinky finger, but I thought they still had their charms... These titless tits with the perky nipples.My own were more on the heavy side, but I kept my arms firmly crossed over them. I was still wearing my street clothes, and my heart pounded heavy in my chest with anticipation... Couldn't I do this bath thing with my clothes on?
I stared at Jen's back. Her pale, gold-kissed back. Her shoulders moved this way and that as she dodged through the bodies of naked women passing her. She was at home here and I was not. When she paused at the edge of a shallow pool of water, steam rising up from all over, and dropped her towel,  my eyes instantly riveted downward. Her butt had a perfect roundness to it, and it was attached to lean, muscled thighs. A collection of wetness pooled in my mouth and I swallowed. She sank in the water, and turned around to look at me.
The water was clear, so clear I could see everything. More tits, but Jen's tits caused a sensation in me different from the others. It was like my stomach balled up and dropped down to my  feet. I stood there, towel in hand, petrified.
Jen groaned appreciatively and leaned her head back. Her blond hair took on a darker hue from the water. The action caused her tits to bounce up and out of the water. Her nipples like those dot candies the demons offered us after meal times. I stared at them I know, wondering if they actually tasted like those dot candies too. Sweet maybe?
"Common!" Jen said, splashing in my direction. She was laughing, maybe she didn't think about all the tits in the room, but I found it distracting.
I shook my head and backed away.
"You have to bathe" I heard Jen say; but I had closed my eyes and kept them shut. I didn't want to....
"If you don't, you will have to leave"
I kept my eyes shut tight for the longest time and then slowly, I began to take off my shirt. I felt so cold all of the sudden, and I started to shiver. It got so bad that my teeth were chattering and I stumbled as my feet tangled in my pants. It was a slow, painful process removing my clothes and when I finished I quickly moved into the water. It was hot.. almost too hot, and it made my blood rush quicker. I fought the urge for tears though and crouched a little so that my tits were covered. The ground beneath my feet, under the water seemed a bit rough, porous, but not uncomfortable. I heard Jen gasp and in spite of myself I opened my eyes. "Don't look at my tits!" I said.
Jen had moved behind me however and I turned to see her. She wasn't staring at my chest like I had so eagerly stared at hers.. Instead, her eyes were focused on my back. She reached out to touch me and I flinched, but her fingers were light as they slid down the base of my neck, and to my shoulder.
"What happened here?" Her voice was soft, and there was an emotion I couldn't recognize in her tone.
"Huh?"
"Here" Jen moved her fingers, and I could feel her fingers slide over the smooth parts to hit the raised marks there.
"Oh" I said. "You know what the punishment is for gangs who cause too many problems right?"
Jen's fingers dropped uprubtly. "That is a barbaric law."
"Barbaric... I like the sound of that word, what does it mean?"
"It means cruel in this context. It's cruel and stupid, and dated" With each word Jen's voice grew more taught.
"Oh" Suddenly I didn't like her staring at my back now, so I turned around. It was better for her to look at my tits than my back. She did look at them, but her eyes flew to mine.
"What happened though?"
I shrugged, uncomfortable in the spotlight. Her eyes were so intensely blue now, and I could see my reflection in them. "When they caught us the governor said no mercy. So we were flogged...thats where they take these whips, and they have little pieces of metal at the ends. They hit you and hit you with it until you're blind with hurt and the smell of blood is so strong you're sick with it. We figured we'd get flogged but we didn't think they'd put us in the hole."
Jen sighed. "It's disgusting, those fat governors are so corrupt. All they do is sit on ration cards and extort from the elite."
I didn't respond to that. Even if I'd wanted to, Niala chose that moment to call at us, stepping into the water.