i make love to words

>> Saturday, January 30, 2010

i make love to words, words make love to me,
stroking the smooth skin of my psyche, caressing the depth of my body,
words speak to me, tells me I'm beautiful, and calls me it's own,
flows and flows to the deep of my soul
filling every nook and alluring cranny until I cry out.

words fill my mouth, speaks through me ecstasy,
and with every
i breathe in it's complexity, colors becoming real to me
as gold silver-tipped butterflies fill my space
- words take me there.

at times I come too quickly, my pen sweeping the page
in a race against my mind, yet like lothario words come back for me,
it lays me down and takes it's time
seducing my mind
with succulent phrases and rhymes until my pen is wet again
with beginnings, middles, and ends
- and words take me there

feb 23, 2009


cute is for the dogs pt 1

let me begin by saying 'i am a grown woman'
and as a grown woman, i like to date younger guys, i don't know why, it's just what i do. hi, my name is lamoi and i date younger guys. i do however draw the line, i do not, and actually refuse to rob the cradle, i say no thank you to jail bait.

'you are so cute'
that's what he said to me as he gazed into my brown eyes. well, actually first he walked up to my table and asked if he could sit with me. mid chomping on my broccoli, really? what the hell? 'umm i don't know you, but sure go ahead'
shy conversation followed as the 6ft 4, dark skinned, 200 lbs dude tried to talk to my unrelenting, sometimes cold eyes. he told me his name was chad and that he played ball, he worked with little kids teaching them ball, he had one sister and one brother, he was afraid to drive because he was in an accident and it still scares him. he told me he's picky with the girls he talks to and he that he loves my lips.
oh and that he thought i was 'really cute'
we laughed, we talked, we became cool friends.
and then he told me he was 18.
'now what now?' (tasha mac incarnate)

to be continued.....


frilly dresses for nilene

>> Thursday, January 28, 2010

frilly dresses for nilene

in the cool playful breeze, giving relief to the sweat of summer
pink frills splattered with white bows runs away,
scalloped edges of innocent maturity flips up without notice
giving glimpses of the treasure covered with care
by mothers who love, and worry

nations placed in small places bump against nations,
and squeals of giggles run rampant through the air,
as games are played, encouraged by lusts unaware
unseen, by those who see, smile, laugh and cheer

scuffed shoes run, sweat dripping heightened by the chase,
and in feigned deep voices, call out to the wind to lift frilly dresses,
some frilly dresses fall, dirtied by the mud, white bows no longer pure
pink transferred to stains on the cheeks, as treasures are revealed.
looking up searching for a hand to reach down and help,
but watches as scuffed shoes moves on,
other’s reach mommy’s safe arms, vowing to
never play with scuffed shoes again.

and in the cool playful breeze, giving relief to the sweat of summer
boys keep chasing girls for a kiss.

inspired by- random line in a song i heard on the radio
la.moi jan 26, 2010
thank you to nilene for posing for my camera


blurtnot and what not

i am a proud jamaican. although i may not talk like it (i've been told i sound like a white girl), nor some may say act like it, i am proud of my heritage, and i love my fellow jamaicans and the bond we have. however, there are moments in which i hang my head in shame, and would deny them in a heartbeat.

the loud brawling moments, the vulgarizing of a beautiful language (patois) moments, the string of cusswords moments, the skin showing, embarrasingly under dressed moments, the gold teeth, skinny jeans, coloured mesh undershirts and break neck weight jewellery moments, the cussing off anyone who breathes in your direction moments, the "pssst, hey daughta moments", jumping on a chick almost killing her at a club moments, the ignorant i will yell until i am right moments, and the fact that other races know not to mess with jamaicans.

i know every culture deals with this, and i have a list of reasons why i love being jamaican, but in moments like these, i'm actually ashamed to say i'm jamaican, and i ask myself, "why, o why can't we do better!"

and then it forces me to contemplate...
is my hatred of their ignorance making me ignorant?


pieces of me

>> Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Pieces of me

like lights on bare trees, surrounded by the dark beauty
of exposed nakedness, shouting aloud to those who will hear,
pieces of me stretch towards an unyielding sky,
covered with sparkly pretty things,
blinking things,
bright things

why don’t i feel sparkly?
my smile has dimed, my soul is facing the wrong way,
and rare gold, has become mere glitter, trinkets in childish hands
thrown away in the breeze,
my bulbs have blown and the dark beauty
of my exposed nakedness is suddenly ugly.
my eyes blink, but twinkles and stars are replaced by cold slivers of silver
as those named winter, bitter, and cold stand and stare,
pointing, in mocking awe of my scars, the stripped skin yielding glimpses of shame
sharing stories among themselves of glories past when i was once beautiful, and proud,

like lights on bare trees, dejected,
strength as branches once covered with lush green,
now vainly adorned with the white lights of surrender,
i live, constantly living in spite of those who spit and piss on the ground i rise on.
i stand, constantly standing, strong against the vulnerability of my exposed nakedness
ugly, yet darkly beautiful

pieces of me, fragile and hardened stretch towards an unyielding sky midnight blue,
my sparkly pretty things shout aloud to those who will hear,
shouting flickers of light into the fog of self induced arrogance and human thought,
in the midst of deceitful eyes, hearts and written lines,
and the overwhelming stench of undeserved pride.
my smile, shining in glorious contrast against the stinking green of your waste-d energies,
my soul, confident in eternity faces, gazes past the midnight blue,
and rare gold, drip from my branches, falling to naught in the hands of those unworthy.
my bulbs have been replaced, i’ve surrendered to the
blinking things,
bright things.

like lights on bare trees
standing tall, stretching unyieldingly towards an open sky.

inspired by: keyshia cole – sent from heaven
la.moi Jan 26, 2010


the big apple and po-et-ry: beautiful places

>> Tuesday, January 26, 2010

beautiful places

* anywhere with my poetry book open
* my room when 'criminal minds' is on
* cafe demetre downing a big apple or a pie carumba
* in my bed sleeping
* driving towards the city at night gazing at the beautiful lights
* standing still staring up at the stars
* my mind
* the very top of a roller coaster
* in my love's arms
* my room when 'the office' is on
* on stage sharing my heart in the form of po-et-ry
* a childs innocent smile
* wendy's devouring the baconator
* the beach at sunset
* behind my camera lens
* payless when they are having a sale
* sitting on a folding chair watching a free jazz show
* downtown toronto      
* dunn's river falls in jamaica                                                         
* in the presence of God
* on the phone talking to brooklyn
* in the shower, leaning against the wall falling asleep
* my bed waking up to the sun streaming on me, almost burning my skin
* music

thank you da_kween for this list idea...thank you Genesis for posing for my camera

Tag you're it: what are some of your beautiful places?


>> Monday, January 25, 2010

CMD - chronic male dumbness. the following example of CMD was held between myself and a guy who has been declaring his love for me since he walked up to me one night after i performed and said 'so i think you're gorgeous'... albeit i told him i was involved with someone, to which he later replied 'i will wait my turn'

me : oh for real, you haven't been sleeping?

CMD : yup, been restless, need some p <~~ p? really? how old are you? too shy to spell out the whole thing?

me : wow, ok..lol

CMD : lol, u got any friends? i won't ask u, ur not available, if u were u'd be my first choice <~~ saying lol before or after doesn't make you any less sleazy sorry (in my white girl voice)

me : *blank stare* yeah, that's kinda sleazy

needless to say, even if there was a chance we would get together sometime in the future, after his public display of sleazyness, that is not an option.


love, scabbed knees, and the human pretzel

>> Thursday, January 21, 2010

' a hopeful attitude expects the best, is prepared for the worst, and is flexible enough to take what comes.'

the best: love. it amazes me, that when someone tells me they genuinely love me, how hard it is for me to accept it. that's only happened thrice in my life. true love. real love. not 'i love your body' love, or 'i love your sex' love, but 'lamoi, i love you'...i've run from that kind of love. i'm terrified of that kind of love. i've sabotaged that kind of love, because i never think i'm good enough for that kind of love, why would anyone want to love me? but it is that kind of love i should expect to recieve. i deserve that kind of love. i am good enough. so in honor of hopeful attitudes, i will expect and demand to be truly loved, unconditionally loved, a man must love me like my daddy loves me. a friend must love me like my daddy loves me. plain and simple. and i will love, harder, deeper and more sincerely than before, i will love like my daddy.

the worst: failure. unfortunately torn jeans and scabbed knees are a necessary part of life. we all must and will fail, life lessons must be learned. very recently i was in the midst of healing a twice broken heart (can we say damn!). i felt as if i had lost everything, and i had failed miserably, but i learned my lesson. i got up, brushed off, and bandaged up my torn knees, went on facebook and laughed at his new girlfriends bushy eyebrows and mustache and felt better. we all fail, whether it be in love, in family, in business, in school, or at life..failure is a must, so in honor of hopeful attitudes and preparation, i will walk around with bandaids and rubbing alcohol. i will remember that my failures do not make me who i am, but my determination to live does.

flexibility: change. i love change. bun being stagnant and all routine like. everyday is a change waiting to be encountered. change breeds challenge, self awareness, self honesty and enlightenment. shoot, it brings fun, new experiences, new opportunities and new people into your life. change is constant. change viewed through the wrong colored glasses may make new opportunites seem like failures, hence the needed acrobatics when it comes to life. so in honor of hopeful attitudes, i will embrace change, not only that, but i will hike up my skirt, take off my heels and chase after it if i have to, because change brings growth, and this 5"2 1/2 chick has not stopped growing yet.

love. failures. change. hopeful attitudes.


my pen

>> Tuesday, January 19, 2010

I breathe.... I sigh.... shivers explore my spine and,
I bite my pen as I fall in love again
Your words have seduced me again,
what has ended has begun again, and again I succumb to the pleasures of my pen.

This blank page breathing draws my gaze
and bright eyes bedroom size, gaze in the space only you can create
my pen......such intimacy experienced only when your tip strokes my mind.... my pen
and in time time vanishes and what wasn’t is, and what is no longer can be without we,
you and me....my pen.

Your ink as life giving as the seeds of knowledge you spill birth within me words of change,
and my pen becomes mother, father of eternal gain for eternal life is the knowledge of all we hold true,
and it starts with me and you....my pen.

So as I grip you tightly my pen,
let the heat from my fingertips stimulate literary bliss,
and as we ride tightly bound together in the absence of time on this discovery of literary ecstasy,
I breathe.... I sigh.... shivers explore my spine,
As I release and am made whole again,
for perfection is created....my pen.


body odor and loud dandruff - a textersation

>> Monday, January 18, 2010

i am contemplating whether or not i should continue posting my text messages, since they wouldn't be so...ummm(ahem)... racy(?) anymore i wondered if it would lose it's appeal....hmmmm?
but in the midst of my wondering, i had a very funny textersation with my sister, (who is 19 today! happy birthday!!!)...and i can't help but share it.

sis: omgsh...WHY am i choking behind this guy in my lecture he REAKS of body odor! HE SMELLS LIKE ARMPIT! like his breeze is blowing at me.

me: ewww that's dutty! pass him a note and tell him....

Lol! it get's worse....HE HAS LOUD DANDRUFF TOOOOO!!!! Omgsh...i'm so scared it's going to land on my leg!! :'(

okay. now that's nasty, it may nyam u like the plague...change seats. i need u. i love u.

ROFL! there are no more free seats except the one beside him, or in the dirty reject section in the back. i feel sick :\ he flashed his hair!

awww, he clearly thinks u love him..he wants to claim you...he thinks that look of disgust is a look of utter infatuation.

EWWWWWW thank God im behind him and he can't see me! im so mad because i was planning on eating in this class...im so hungry :(

yeah, don't eat, he'll flick his locks real quick and ur bound to catch whatever he has

mann. you see what happens? because of smelly dandruff guy i had to wait until i got to the library to eat. and now my belly's CRYING!!!

lol...don't kill me

it's soo embarrassing!! i can't believe it! i never knew a belly could be so loud! at first i thought maybe it's not as loud as i think...no

...i will now continue my contemplation...
let me know, what do you think?


be a history maker

>> Friday, January 15, 2010

my dad has been telling me something lately that has me pondering, "make an impact where you are"

the stroke of midnight has come and gone, but 2010 is still here, and every minute that goes by, holds the key to our future. every minute spent lounging in bed, idling the day away, every day we put off living 'til tomorrow is another stroke of midnight wasted. and i should know, i'm the queen of lounging, i could lounge away any day with no apologies, but being a big fan of truth and honesty, when truth comes to me...i'm held accountable to it.

'be a history maker, you might not be able to change the world in it's fullness, but touching one life, one soul is history in the making'

when that hit me, i grabbed it like it was a life saver and i was drowning....history won't sit around picking it's nose waiting for me...one blink, and i'm saying goodbye to another stroke of midnight, and welcoming 2011. being a history maker has everything to do with time, and even more to do with understanding that life is made up of chain reactions. cause and effect. it's can be as simple as making someone smile, one smile can change the course of the nation inside of that someone...let that sink in.... let's break it down.

molly wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, as she does every morning. she is sad, depressed, distracted and confused. molly stumbles out of her house intent on being productive, but unable to shake the depression filling her soul. someone encounters molly, that someone looks into molly's eyes and returns her look of sadness with a look of disgust because molly stepped on that someones shoes. molly, internalizing that look becomes tired of being a burden to those around her. the outcast hurries home where she takes her own life. whatever future she had within her womb is no more, and her nation dies with her.

sometimes all it takes is a smile...you know... just one smile to save an entire nation. but we often forget that history is not all about grand speeches and rallies, protests and unity, history is about actions. actions created our past, actions creates our present and actions will create our future.

my dad, in all of his wisdom is right. make a difference where you are, take a break from the big picture long enough to catch one someones eyes, and just smile.


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