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There are women that I find incredibly sexy and its not Angelina Jolie and its not Halle Berry (Im so sick of looking at and hearing about them) although Im no hater either, they are both painfully beautiful but my loyalties are to the understated and less mentioned, except for Beyonce lawd there are so many times I find myself wishing I had anything that resembled any part of her. My favorite sexy women for instance are, Lisa Raye McCoy. That girl got body for days and if I was shaped like that every woman I know would hate my guts cause it would be in their faces. Not only is she built like Hades the child is 40 years old, FORTY YEARS OLD I SAID! Her twenty year old daughter is pretty but she dont look like Mama! My other sexy female favorite is Salma Hayek. She puts the sex in sexy and that face is exquisite. Also impressive is, as sexy as she is she doesnt seem to know it or rather she appears reluctant to accept the title. If it was me Id wear it like a dress but then what am I talking about
it is me. Yes, Im a girl too and yet theres no problem for me admitting I find some women so sexy I myself have to stop in the middle of the street with the dudes and stare.
911, 911
Well youll have to get to the phone first and then after I get through whuppin your butt, Ill call the police for you. This is the old school, big mama attitude I grew up with. I get on my knees and thank everybody on my block that carried out this antiquated yet effective form of discipline referred to in 2010as abuse. That abuse made me aware that everybody I got it from cared or loved me and although it was not my choice of chastisement, (but then with what kid would it be. I didnt go out and shoot up a school yard and I was able to face bullies because along with this discipline came the talk starting with, This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you and if, She gets upon you try to talk with them if they dont hitem back. Do you know what that meant, it meant I love you and Im trying to keep you from being in greater pain in the long run. It meant, Child, Im trying to save your life. We would learn to respect authority because of it, knowing that we would forever have to answer to some one in order to get through. No, one is completely free of laws and guidelines even though it may not come down on all of us with the same severity. In view of parenting it seems apropos for the punishment to fit the crime and every crime does not call for your hind end to see the business in of a piece of wood but disrespecting was definitely the proper occasion for it. Even though hearing the words, time out causes me to roll my eyes it may work in some situations. Trust me I love kids but not the bad A ones and wont put up with them either. They can keep their parents crazy for as long as they will stand it.
Even God gives the advisement at Proverbs 23, 13 & 14 for me kick booty saying, Do not hold back discipline from the mere boy. In case you beat him with the rod, he will not die. Reasoning abilities allows people to understand the difference between abuse and reprimand so if you see me snatch a two year old up in the store and whale on his little bottom its not abuse and as verse 14 says to paraphrase, this rod you beat him with may actually deliver his behind from hell or Sheol. In other words, its smackity smack if you talk back LOL.
Its nothing personal. You act like I savor to tell these ghastly truths of ours, put our failures on front-street. Ive always adored you and its not personal unless you choose to take it up on your shoulders and own up to the responsibility, if it is true but if its not then it shouldnt be taken to heart. The pains got to come out somewhere and this is where it starts with me having someone who looks like my kindred, my baby nephew, my fathers people. Dont hold it against me because of the way things are which is far from the wishes and day dreams pooled when imagination ran away with me and that little girl I used to be
has nothing to do with placing you on blast but getting out my story for those who suffer like me and didnt share the glory of being lifted up on a pedestal and carried on buffed shoulders of sepia over Egyptian streams with an ending usually more often than not, in the supportive embrace of throw back sisters or the transition to another man being my only option, looking very similar to you while you harbor the wrong type resentment and let loose, going off in front of the whole world, throwing bobby blue powder in my eyes, leaving wreckage until again, I eventually see instead of a plain ole fashioned heartfelt Im sorry, couldnt be what you needed so I give up on you like you gave up on me, there is nothing else, hearing how impossible it is to accept another one resembling the same image as the one before. Its already like bullets over Afghanistan to remain in my place but that powder, that powder keeps coming up in my face as I rub my eyes, try to clear my vision to no advantage, stumbling into increasing derision and dysfunction until there is no other choice but to scream like a Joe Jackson beating and something sounds like my voice. I hope somebody hears it. I only wanted to exhale but never to have caused such division. Why dont you see I am desperately one woman trying to breathe.
For her and people who have the guts to do what Im scared to do (within reason cause Im not talking about bungee jumping while sitting on an outside toilet) you know you are the bomb.com. It could be something as simple as dyeing your hair cherry coke red when your hair was naturally dishwater brown, being able to hold your own in a conversation with anyone from celebrities to the religious zealot on the corner. Getting further into my point, Paris used to be my destination but then I wasnt long out of pampers as time advanced it got to the point I wasnt stepping foot out of United States jurisdiction without a tranquilizer dart in my behind. Recently I had a good friend who made the conscious decision to move to Ireland
uh hmm just up and be gone
to Ireland now I wasnt going but my admiration for her grew and she had just the personality for it because she was outgoing (never met a stranger in her life)and smart, really having her stuff together. Vicariously, I got to live through her a little. We had a, So youre moving to Ireland party for her and when she left I kept in touch with her through Face Book and icompositions.com., as she was also my occasional collab and music partner in crime., She would post pictures where she looked beautiful but the locations in Ireland surrounding her didnt quite get me there. The scenery behind her was uninspiring and had no flavor, no eye candy but I kept up my high on her being there. I realized eventually that the pictures were all there was and no expressed excitement or notations from her being there. Before I knew there were indications posted where she hinted to coming back to the US. She returned to the Georgia this past Friday
In being honest and true, I really didnt see Ireland working for her but Im still happy she was able to take the leap
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My life from very early has always had a soundtrack or a theme. I cant think of one time my existence hasnt been a precious layer, up front for music or a part of setting something of even the vaguest significance to a song. The first memory of my sub-conscious background music for me was when I was about 7 years old and living on College Street, going to Maynard Elementary. You remember John Travolta walking down the street with Staying Alive thumping in the rear, him swaggering down a strip? That was me only it wasnt Staying Alive it was Groove Line by Heat Wave ending with One Nation Under a Groove especially if I had just stepped out of my Fathers car. By the time I was 15 and living on Vine Street, clear on the other side of town and going to high school thoughts inclined more toward romance and I had already experienced a triplet of sentimental kisses from a few guys who werent even my boyfriends but the one that stands out the most is the one right before my family moved and Kissin You by Total was playing in the background. All I know is between listening to the love forlorn singer tell her man I want to kiss you and my lips parting slightly to engage with his, that kiss was like set if off! Later on when I needed to adjust my mental or something was bothering me for instance, my heart breaking I would drive to a parking lot to a secluded spot and play jazz by Boney James or let my mind wander to the alternative stylings of Steeley Dan. It varies depending on the situation but whatever the case the music insists playing
and it won't stop..
Its all the same as rap is basically street/urban poetry set to music. Musicians and singers recognize it too. Especially singers and jazz players such as Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, Roy Hargrove and Jeff Bradshaw use it now combining their talents with poetry and spoken word. Some rappers have migrated into poetry calling it Rapoetry or Floetry. When there is no musical instrument but a desire to hear something cutting edge yet euphoric as a spoken word artist I often resort to words and verbal expression with the pen and computer keyboard as instrumental accompaniment, posting it on a music sites. In some cases after posting spoken word accapella, many of the resident artists have placed my words in their song bed where the two make beautiful and passionate music together. A minimal composition is sometimes best when the spoken word is so mystical and melodic by itself. However, for me there is a very thin line between music, poetry and spoken word. In marriage between them spoken word makes for a hellified wifey.
and sent all the black women in an uproar when the Cincinnati Bengals show, The Ultimate Catch debuted and out of the 85 women only three of them were African American. If I were African American women I wouldnt get mad. I would try to get glad, glad youre not one of the three women who dont have a chance of being chosen in the first place, glad you didnt sell yourself out for 15 minutes of fame, glad you thought enough of yourself to exclude yourself from a no win situation. As far as Im concerned it is understood that he is not fond of colored girls so if I was a chocolate dream I would question why he would even bother to feature a black woman at all. It would have been much more flattering if he had only Caucasian women and been true to himself. The fact that he would have one single mocha mommy would be more of an insult.
Im sure that black women cant appreciate his reverse tokenism and would clearly prove he has something to fear, the fear of his very own black face. One he's looked at in anguish so many times before. The woman who birthed him was black which could possibly show he has no pride and in fact finds some shame in that. He could be among the ranks of many black people today whod rather be anything but African American, who now hide behind their fuchsia colored glasses, have earned their coveted degrees highly sought after careers and feel they blend in with the upper echelon of American, leaving their past from the bricks and the down trodden of the streets far behind
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Everybody wants to be with somebody and sometimes it might take somebody to get you to the somebody you could spend the rest of your life with or no? If you had a nice friend would you let someone else hook them up with their friend? What if he or she was gorgeous, with a lucrative job and well educated with one catch, they were not trustworthy and their track record with the opposite sex were, Cant hold on to a decent relationship if their life depended on it. A lot of companionship impaired people are out there waiting for those of us who are the magnet for bad unions so if we had the opportunity how we handle it? I had a well-known acquaintance with a sexy but trifling female relative ask me if a handsome and successful friend of mine would be interested in having lunch with her.
Immediately, I shot back no, speaking for her and my long-time friend became incensed, wondering why? When I explained to him that as a friend I knew what he liked and would feel awkward, even somewhat responsible for putting him in such uncomfortable circumstances he continued to remain insulted which placed me in an position but even that didnt persuade me to back down from my stand. If he had been a scoundrel then maybe getting them in one place together would have been the perfect match and the two could play each other with no regrets, no commitment or maybe a different and less favorable conclusion all together but that was one hook up I wanted no part in. As a genuine friend I couldnt see it any other way. What are your feelings on it
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Comment by Shirlene
on "I Like My Coffee Like My Women..."
Ochocino...Ocho Oh No
Who's Got The Hook Up?
Spoken Music
Soundtrack to the Life
The Bomb.com In Ireland
Smackity Smack If You Talked Back