The Name Game

So… I was arguing with my “future” on the phone today, and I ACCIDENTLY referred him by the name of someone in my past. Immanuel. Now to be Frank, (maybe I shouldn’t be adding anymore names to this tale!) the two of them have no more in common than apples and oranges, or rather Me and Heidi Klum. Unless… you consider the fact that she loves black men, but that’s a whole other conversation, and I’d hate to lose ALL of my black male readers here in the Great Interracial Super Highway of Minnesota.

As I was saying… Apples and Oranges. Now I’m sure some of us have had our dealings with the Name Game before, but most of those instances you’d probably expect. I’ve played my role in a Love Triangle in the past, but when I was shouting out incorrect names, I was in a position to convince a fool that, “ It’s not what I’m saying baby, it’s what I’m doing that you need to pay attention to!” (Like you haven’t made that mistake before.)

3 years later, a mistake like this comes as a surprise considering that HIS chapter was closed years ago, but apparently I never put down the book. For those of you who witnessed the “Love Jones” disaster, I don’t need to elaborate or give strength to an already dead situation. But if you weren’t around, and you need to satisfy your curiosity for the sake of this tale, I’ll just say it was like living in the LA Riots; my heart was the city, and his actions were laced with kerosene.

I never thought I’d see the day that I’d give ownership to a "conclusion". So I guess this just means its time to realize that my story has only just begun. My advice to everyone, leave the past in the past.

… just something to think about.

© A. L. Lewis

Standard

It took a lot of careful thought, and after I rehearsed the possible after effects, I think I’m ready to make the biggest mistake of my life. People nowadays usually don’t remember you for the good you’ve done, but rather happily remind you of your “fall from grace”. Unforgettable. So I’ve decided… In order to make my mark and claim victory over the shadows, I have to leave my moral weapon on the shelf and substitute the promise of absolution for a regret that will get me through the halls of THIS worlds corridors.

Why not, Everybody’s doing it!?

I look around. A lot of the people who HAVE, and the people who ARE, are people who’ve lost the solidity in their moral foundation. How many people REALLY even care about what I’m saying? You can’t build a real house on SAND, but most of us don’t have the patience to do the SOLID groundwork it takes to become a true individual masterpiece. Wouldn’t you rather be a shack atop an iron plate in the desert, then be a beach front terrace resting on momentarily calm waters ‘til earths turbulence gives the guarantee of who’s REALLY the master rather than just the masterpiece? I would.

True riches are not determined by sizeable bank accounts, assets, and vast associations; rather, by being a one of a kind pearl in a world full of identical gems. It seems like you meet one brotha, you’ve met them all. I’m sure men could say the same about us. Yet no one pays mind to the ones you don’t OBVIOUSLY see. I’m referring to the ones who’s stellar character is their mark, rather than the folks who enjoy making headlines for successfully fitting their negative stereotype. Yet the ones who make the most “noise” enjoy the tangible effects of living life in FM stereo, while the others take their place in the static of AM. Lost due to bad reception.

Shit! It makes you want to cross over and be apart of the hypocrisy in order to fit in to the status quo. So many people have fallen victim to the world of today, that they’ve forgotten the struggles forgone our people of yesteryear. Would many of us have these opportunities, had we not been afforded them through the fight for liberty? Yes, we’re all free to do as we choose, but why do so many of us choose do the things that come so freely or rather EASY?

Sex, drugs, drinking, etc, seems to breed more opportunity than abstaining to obtain a solid experience. Men nowadays consider our importance to them in their schedule and their roladex, by the things we can do to satisfy them rather than the sincerity of our hearts. Easy. Please don’t forget that hard work garnered us a position of appreciation, yet none of us want to work hard to maintain proper “salvation”.

You don’t have to wear “the cross” right next to your heart, to understand the error in your decisions. Then there are those who understand, yet truly don’t care to pay attention. A lot of people will read this blog and think, “She needs to SHUT the F- Up and get laid already!”. That might very well be true, but the point I’m trying to make for my friends and myself, is we are all at a point of choosing and are no longer undecided. Do you follow? I’m just hoping LESS of ME will deliver more genuine possessions to me, because I’m tired of the compromise.

Yes, I too, am guilty of “falling”, but I try to surround myself with people who extend a hand to help me up. I sin, often, and can guarantee I will sin again. I’m not a square, or a “lame” or “born-again-perfectionist”, I’m just a woman waiting, that KNOWS she deserves more. You see, I’ve arrived! I want the spoils of life; a husband, success, and a family. So I ask you this, why do I have to forget my morals in order to be remembered by you?

Yes, I know, it's all just AM Static.

© A. L. Lewis

I Wonder if He Knows...

Swaying in the wind like a pendulum, my thoughts rock left to right. Controlled by the desires within my heart, and influenced by a gravitational will, he pulls me…

~ I CLOSE MY EYES ~

Spinning Dwele tracks, I’d hate to “wake the baby”. Sipping cheap wine, but rich in desire. Fulfilling that hunger, as he nibbled on my thighs. His hands like vines around the circumference of my bosom, my body like a compass, directing him south. Touch me.

I hate to just lye back, but I remember way back, yet I wonder if he knows.

DEEP in concentration, who gives a damn about conversation. There is no LOOSE interpretation, this is a language even I don’t know. At one point I lost my diction, and needed him to TEACH me a LESSON. I was rising and falling to the HEAD of the class so to show my appreciation, I let him bite my apple. Sweet.

Yet I wonder if he knows…

The breathing got steady, and his muscles became tense. He was like a hurricane; blowing through my body and washing away these sugar walls. My turn. He nibbled on my subconscious as he searched for G. When my mind caught up to the thrusts it gave my body the signal to release. YES! I fell back in satisfaction, and looked at him with disbelief. Just like I imagined. I reached over to take a puff of his cigarette, and exhaled as the sensation escaped my body. After the greatest 4 minutes of my life had passed (you gotta love it!), I leaned over and gave him a signal; it was time for round 2.

"Spinning Dwele tracks"… yet I wonder if he knows.

~WAKE~
Hoping to chase my fantasy off the pages of my internal slideshow, I keep running my mental script. If virtual reality is the alternative to real opportunity, then don’t wake me from my slumber till my dreams deliver me a promise. I want you.

© A. L. Lewis

All Gods Children Have a Place. . .

... And like a symphony we made music; yet our harmony could not progress to a simultaneous beat. We were creating sheet music blindfolded; scripting “flat notes” and “short cords”, designing rhythms that lacked course. It was a Sonic Catastrophe. Both one for the music, yet not embracing the same melody; present in the same choir, but standing on different sides of the Alter. I could hear the clash, but we let the track keep skipping. I raised my ear to clinch the notes; we weren’t even singing the same song.

Hearing the problem, but not seeing it to a resolve, recognizing its interruption, yet replaying the same loop. We all make our own music, but no one buys a bad record. So why embrace a song, that clashes with your own rhythm. CHANGE. We all have a place, and my heart is my choir. We all have a melody and mine flows to the sweetest beat.

“I sing because”… I’m happy to be me. I have captured my independence and I am officially embracing me. A virtuous, beautiful, voluptuous Black Queen. Satisfied. Certified with my intelligence, qualified to be choosy. I’ve customized my own personal interpretation, and am free from the damage of unwanted observation. I’ll maintain my standard, to obtain the “perfect pitch”.

“I sing because”… I’m free. No longer are the days when my decisions are orchestrated from the will of another Counterfeit Conductor. Some men want to hold the baton, but lack the melody to create music. If I have to hold the instrument, and interpret the notes on my own, than I’ll take the stand to perform my solo until a worthy partner proclaims a duet.

… We all have a place, but NOT EVERYONE BELONGS in YOUR choir. We all have a song, but do you have the patience to wait for “Perfect Harmony”?

We all have a place… My life. My Choir.

© A. L. Lewis

One Night...

… while I’m trying to hold tight to the clasp of my bra, my mind remains locked on the strength of my virtue, my heart keeps wrapped around the truth in my convictions, and my thoughts begin to ponder… Does he even know my name?

I’m not a “full-on-do-gooder”, but what good would it do, to exchange my flourishing garden for a landscape of weeds. Even when your eyes are closed, there’s clarity in your digestion, so why inhale the cloud, when you can mentally see through the smoke screen. Your worth to him is measured by Sex.

Women have so much more to offer, but apparently the order in operation has changed. “Hello”, and “ Can I get to know you?”, are shared over breakfast in bed. We’re letting ‘em park cars in our garage, yet they’ve never even paid the mortgage. We’re trading High Standard’s, for easy opportunities, when the real gift comes from the present of real encounters. To see me is to KNOW me.

It’s simply put, but don’t confuse it with simple. I’m not an easy girl, yet I’m not hard to understand. If it’s easy access for you, how hard can it be for the next person inquiring about an All Access Pass. Sorry Sir, This is not an Open Door Policy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a prude, or a square. I like to “play” in the dark too, but I understand how unsuccessful it can be trying to bring a flashlight to hell. Morals. As if to say virtue matters anymore, these thoughts of sexual independence seem to go no further than my back door. Women nowadays make life easy for a man. What you won’t do, someone else will, so to remain in the game, you better make your way to the field. Sports were never my thing.

I don’t expect a replay, or to give you a chance to capitalize on the real trophy. My friendship. I’ve encountered many other men whose human value system derives from their sexual pyramid. Attempting to hold on to my belt, and abstaining from the notches on yours, I realize my position in your memory bank. Who are you again?

I laugh at the conclusion and add up how many times I’ve traveled down this road before. I could drive it with my eyes closed. I’m starting to become a regular. So…I know the protocol for how these things operate, and like most unsuccessful night moves this too will remain in the dark. I guess I’ll say it for you… Next.

© A. L. Lewis