cook

i write what i am unable to speak

for the words that flow from these lips

cannot comprehend the essence of the words in my mind

the words that emanate from the tip of my pen...

…come again…

i write what i am unable to speak

for the words that flow from these lips

are broken and slow

moving behind the wings of time

unable to catch up with the rambling verses in my mind

so spoken words are left behind, stroking teeth, and tasting

swallowed lines.

the words that emanate from the tip of my pen

are golden.

like the sun on a warm, silver breeze day

rays infiltrating the depth of who you are

filling your expectations from a far

yet present right where you are,

......yeah…..right there

like the sun are the words in my pen

rising to meet your breath in the silver breeze

inhaling as you breathe in, soaking in the syllables,

verbs, intonations that exist in my words

and like the sun that just is

so are the words in my pen….just is

just being without a sense of beginnings, middles or endings

just living, breathing without thoughts of insecurities,

the need for applause doesn’t fit between this thumb and index

no teeth hitting the mic in a fit of wobbling knees,

just my poetic colored imaginations

meandering through, inside, outside of black lines

bound by sweet smelling leather, stitched with the thread of

inherited peace.

on blank pages, created to be filled by the greatness that are

my words, i write what i am unable to speak

unable to explain, for spoken words fail at times

when describing tears, wails, agonies, orgasms, happiness,

and the simple need to be loved,

i write what i am unable to speak

fist raising declarations, ah ha moments felt

around the world, doors closing behind worthless hims and hers…

and stories told in perfect harmony to the beating muse in your heart.
i write when i am unable to speak
book attached to my hand
pen morphing from sacrified fingertips,
when silence is golden, my incessent scribbling molests the silence
deeming it broken and abused.

for the words that flow from these lips

connect with the universe that is the tip of my pen

blue ink on black lines, the beauty that is written reality.

 in a fit of nouns and loquacious strokes

i write what i am unable to speak

don’t ask me to speak

don’t ask my mind to comprehend the existence of forever

for just as the sun is,

so are the words in my pen….just is.

la.moi feb 26, 2010

thanx to cook.the.poet for naming this piece for me!

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i.life shuffle

i was going through my former blog and found this post, i modified a bit, but it still rings very true for me even now...

i am a chronic ipod shuffler (that by the way is my ipod on my bed...hot ingrid).

in my song list i have only 350 songs, of which i may only listen to 107 well known, well loved songs by me.(as you can see it's on fantasia barrino - truth is, which i NEVER listen to.) i'll start my day, or my car ride by plugging it in, and routinely skip over the songs i don't know or really don't like and loudly singing (and dancing) to the songs i do know. yet of late i have made a pact with my evolution to listen to every song that plays, regardless of whether or not it's one i want to hear, and the results have been very pleasing. i have found so many songs that i now deem new favs, like sex 4 sugar.common, ego trippin. mya, and many more.

as i was driving home from school last night, rediscovering my love for music the thought hit me.

what if like an ipod we could shuffle life. skip over the undesireable situations, and replay the moments we love the most. and for those cirumstances we wish have never happened, we could just hit delete, or uncheck to unsync. wouldn't life be incredibly grand? or would it? would we be satisfied living life on our terms?

similar to my rediscovery of my love for music, that thought helped me rediscover my love and appreciation for life. it reminded me that it's often in the hard, undesireable times of life where we are able to find our fav moments. okay, maybe 'fav' is pushing it .... our defining moments. the moments in which we stand back, look horribly puzzled and realize that 'this is life', the times we found our strength, our voice, our will to stand, stay, or simply walk away. our loves, our hates, and our tolerates...lol. and more importantly who we are, cause as poetry guy put it last night, "those are the things that have made you who you are."

life, as with music was made to discover and to enjoy. songs that meant nothing to us yesterday, could be the anthem of our tomorrow... as with life. we go through crap today, so we are able to smile, laugh, and dance tomorrow, while bopping our knowledge to the songs that helped us get through it all.

i thank hot ingrid (my ipod), for helping me contemplate life in a new way. i am on a journey of discovery, and life via music (unshuffled) will no doubt help me get there.

here is one of my new favs....

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confessional pearls: what the....fu..dge!?

i have a huge problem with swearing.
except i like to seperate it into 2 categories to make it seem not as bad.....so let's try this again.

i have a huge problem with cursing, and an equally huge problem with swearing.

i'm trying really hard to break out of this bad habit i happened to pick up my 2nd year of university (that was such a long time ago)....but the f-bombs keep coming, it's like life purposefully throws random acts of furniture in front of my 2nd last toe, or plucks me out of perfectly good driving conditions and dumps me in the throws of a massive traffic attack (i have road rage.....yeah)

i'm trying. i really am. i personally think swearing is very ugly, especially on women...cursing is a bit prettier...like really, everyone says 'crap', and if you have roots in england, you say 'bloody' too...

sigh....i'm trying. i really am.

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and i sigh

i watch as light fingers darkened by the sun

search for meaning in the midst of the black and white,

needing almost yearning to find their place amid the specific

discursiveness wrought among cold and steel,

trying each key as if a golden treasure awaits

through well placed chorus and verse,

only to find an abject emptiness,

a hollowness underlined in green.

The austerity of it all hidden from the fingers which continue to dream,

the unseen remains unseen,

and the fingers continues to dream.

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thoughts on my toilet

i wonder if there are any baby alligators/crocodiles getting ready to jump up.

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swish nikey, swish!

why not seize the pleasure at once? how often is happiness destroyed by preparation. foolish preparation? - jane austen

i am awful at making decisions. there is always some form of if's, but's, and maybe's, and more often maybe i shouldn'ts. at the age of 26 i got sick and tired of living this way, and i decided to adopt a new way of life. JUST DO IT! has become my new motto, my new mantra, my 'ummmmm'. and i love it.

like when i pushed myself myself out of the 'i'm a writer' box, the 'my words sound better on the page box',...you know that box.... and became a spoken word artist. that was especially amazing to me because i have a speech impediment and i used my comfort zone as an excuse to not go up there, but just do it! one tuesday night, i went onto the stage, grabbed the mic, blinked in the light and changed the course of my life forever.

and when i uped myself one day and decided to dye the back half of my hair burgandy red. just do it! that simple decision was one of the best ones in my life (speaking of which i need a touch up). and i regret nothing. and when i started my own business. i still can't believe i am a business woman. or when i pushed my fear over the cliff and started blogging. that was scary for real!

JUST DO IT! and regret nothing.
there are many reasons why we don't do what we want, and there are somethings we should not do no matter how badly we want to do them like...murder, rape, getting someone fired to take their position, etc... but for those things that you have no real reason as to why you shouldn't do it other than your own fear and insecurity, screw that!.... JUST DO IT! our happiness is our own. our sorrow is our own. no one can live our lives for us, no matter how hard they try to. so why should we live our life for them? when they are dead and gone, we're the ones gonna be left with shoulda, coulda, wouldas, and nothing to show for it, but our two long hands (jamaican term, it means your hands are empty).

next time you are in the midst of talking yourself out doing something....stop, build a bonfire, burn up all your pros and cons lists, and JUST DO IT!

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Describe your memories of a piece of furniture from your childhood home. (taken from one minute writer)

when my baby sister was born, i realized she had come to ruin my life, i was 8 and she was cute....and frankly i hated her, despised her for removing the 'only child' title from my little hands. i imagined throwing her out the window, i pinched myself repeatedly because i hated this dream, i would whisper to her that i would push her down the stairs (i still tell her that actually). one day when she was about 2 years old, she was in my lap and i was sitting on the couch watching tv, she was crying, and i was no way impressed by her noisy cuteness, the next thing i know the remote control was in my hand making a painful connection to the top of her head.

the way she tells the story, i did it on purpose to shut her up. the way i tell the story, it was and will forever be an accident.

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happy love day

as i was leaving the sanctuary today, i wished one of the older ladies happy valentines day, she replied that it was a day only for men and women in love, if you have no one to celebrate with, why celebrate it at all. i decided a few days ago that i would let love loose, because when it is constricted, it becomes exclusive, so instead of encouraging the spreading of love, for most it becomes a day of bitterness and sadness.

i purposed to celebrate love day with those i really love, my brother and my sister. we have the most fun together, and people who come around us truly never leave the same (i'm not sure if it's a good thing though), so i treated them to cafe demetres, we ate dessert, laughed til we cried and just loved on each other, if that is not what love day is all about, then ya'll can have it.

so from us to you...we hope you had a great love day!

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the fact is (i need you)

the fact is (i need you)

your light brings still life

into the midst of my chaos,

drowning out proverbial sayings

and extra voices meant to weigh down.

lifting me up, the waves of the minds disturbance

lap at your beautiful feet not reaching, drowning

my potentiality,

your soothing voice strokes my ego, and

i not only believe i can, but i know...

i know i need you,

i need your touch, similar to the suns pure rays

on beautiful golden days, my skin blushes, deepens at your love,

i know i need your hands,

strong, but gentle feeding me life’s manna

ackee, saltfish, dumplings, doesn’t matter,

i know i need your mind,

determined to love mine, no matter my womanly ways,

moods, and high heeled attitudes,

your soul, speaks to me when distance is between,

and tears guide curled wires

leading your sophisticated roses back to me.

gone are the days, you and i were non existent to each other

a mere thought in the smile of the almighty

now that you are in my world, girlish wrists will burn in an attempt

to hold on.

walking all eternity, swimming exposed in salty tears,

lying my mishapen thoughts out to wither and dry.

so deep is my need for you

proving that serenity does exist

outside of the mind and well wishes

of astounded dreamers counting stars in bright skies.

inspired by jill scott – the fact is (i need you)

la.moi jan 27, 2010

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iphone and lcbo bags

below is a text message convo between me and my girl aneta, i love her to death, and as you read on, you'll see why. please note, i have kept it as authentic as possible.

aneta: omfg i'm sitting here on the train and there's a guy sitting beside me, and he drunk and he's holding an lcbo bag and he turns to me and goes "i'm dusty don't touch me" omfg i almost puked when he said that his breath reeked and i can still smell it when he breathes omg kill me now like out of every seat on the train he had to sit in this one

me: lmao....omg! that is soo funny! try and breathe through your mouth...and don't make eye contact...

omfg i'm using my scarf as a face mask and fighting off anxiety attacks

omg...please breathe! we need you! can you change seats?

i swear i'd pass for a somalian with my dark hair, my tan and my face gear

lmao @face gear

lol no the train is full

wow! your life for the next few minutes offically sucks a big toe

i think he's sleeping, i don't wanna look tho

no, he may surprise you and his breathe may rape your nose

lololololololol omfg his breath is abusing my sense of smell......omg he's talking to me

and of all the days on the day after your birthday! he couldn't smell stink some other day? chuh! the nerve of some duttiness...

and when denise is not here...fml.....he's talking to me

nooo! you looked didn't you?

omg pass me a shotgun

yup...it sux big toe...lol

ya but my nose is buried in my scarf

don't talk to him! he'll follow you home!

he got off

whew! your nose thanks him...lol

yes hooray for fresh air

this has got to be one of the best text convo's i've ever had...you're greatness

lol i heart you!

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cute is for the dogs pt 2

so where was i? oh yeah! 

dude was 18 years old.
mind you, like i said i love younger guys, because i love how i feel when i'm with them. i've been accused of very rarely acting my age, and i don't look my age either, so it just kinda makes sense to be with a younger guy. but i must admit, 18 to my 26 is a bit much. and also this youngin turned me off *cue keri hilson*

men, here is a side note... in most cases, women do not like men who beg them to be with him, nor one who tries to convince us why we should be with them. it's just not hot. poor chad missed that memo. after telling him that he was just too young for me, and i couldn't and wouldn't date an 18 yr old, he proceeded to try and convince me as to why i should date him. *eye roll number one*. and he pulled out all the stops, i know i heard him throw in "and you can teach me what you want me to know", all the while reminding me that i'm "hella cute". apart from us having really good conversations, the time he spent keeping me company in the mall food court was filled with 'pleases' and 'come on's'...um excuse where am i going? bout come on.

and if that wasn't bad enough, in slimes his friend *eye roll number two*. i was surprised when he came and sat beside chad, because up until now, groups of little boys have been walking by blowing kisses at me and bumping into things twisting thier neck to look at me, but this bold fool caught me off guard, and then he opened his mouth...
friend- "excuse me, sorry for interrupting, but i've been watching you for a bit and i just wanna say you're really cute. i saw you talking to my friend here, and i was wondering can i get your number?"
me- *mouth wide open* " umm, no"
friend- "really? why not? what's your name?"
me- "not interested"

really? are you serious? and he's your friend?
i couldn't comprehend the level of disrespect that just took place in front of me, and then i thought to myself, why am i surprised? this is what i get for messing with younger dudes, that was no different then the stalkings, the beggings, the tantrums, the plain immature stupidity....  sigh.

moral of this story: never tell a grown woman she is cute! sexy, beautiful, gorgeous, yes. cute no. cute is how we describe dogs and babies and pigtails.

i know i'm missing the real moral of the story which would be: don't mess with younger guys. but we all know that will never happen....hi, my name is lamoi and i date younger guys.

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tom browns shoes

Tom Browns Shoes

Tom Browns shoes dances in the cool blue breeze,

the hot sun, unforgiving exposes the torn heels

worn and dirty, it hugs on Tom Browns feet

now the colour of the deepest midnight.

dirty laces serenaded by wings of butterflies past

dangle freely, mimicking the peace found only in this moment,

arms thin, having never lived, never touched, never held

hang at his sides as though the air alone had life,

the heat burning his chocolate skin offer no comfort

as eyes forever surprised gazes at the space within.

Jim Brown laughs as he watches Tom Brown dance

mouth open, gaffawing at his creation, hands dirty and stained with clay

defiled with the insult of his and his before

his joyous laughter creates the soundtrack,

the trees and brushes protest,

this scene has played out before

witnessed by wilted grass blades then green with blood

now trampled under foot

......... time doesn’t heal all wounds.

But Jim Brown lost in the moment mistakes it as

agreement and he christens the day...

golden streams on Tom Browns shoes

The last thoughts of Tom Brown

no one will know for they are hidden,

called to be with those who came before him.

The last thoughts of Jim Brown is written in the sky,

dangeling from a noose,

dancing in the cool blue breeze,

wearing Tom Browns shoes.

Copyright 2008-11-16

la.moi

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blinking

i blinked

and life became a shadow

void of pinks, purples, and greens

void of serenity

void of me

i blinked again

and life became new
life became you
... i think i'll keep my eyes open for a while.

la.moi 19.06.2009

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love and the imperfect

isn't it wonderful to know that we don't have to be perfect - or even very lovely - to be loved?

it's funny how we all strive for some sort of perfection, it's almost as if we have to. placed within us from the day of our birth; the need to please. in our search for perfection, even in our rebellion we rebel perfectly. piercings, tats, underground music, experimentation, head turning fashions, drugs, we do it all so perfectly.
so intense is our need for perfection, that we seek for it outside of who we are, looking for validation we primp, cut, tuck, paint, extend, enlargen, lie, decieve, inject, colour, hate, love, and die. so intense is our need for pefection that we kill those parts of ourselves we deem imperfect, thus never reaching our full potential in who we were made to be.

love, where is your perfection?

i stutter. sometimes quite severely, depending on my surroundings. and i hate it. it has embarassed me, crippled me and caused me to overcompensate. yet i've found that some men in my life have found it very cute. and when my own family would laugh at me, they didn't. ever. they allowed me to be imperfect when i thought i had to carefully speak so i would not embarass myself and make them uncomfortable.

so intense is our need for love, we kill those parts of ourselves we deem imperfect, all the while forgetting that perfect love strives in the midst of imperfection, and once tested comes out as true. and that is why loving someone and ourselves is sometimes soo hard, it's not something we know... really.....it takes many of us years, some entire lifetimes to come to the realization that we are who we are, and we are that way for a reason. but when we understand that we are made imperfect, and once we truly accept that fact, offering and recieving true love will be that much easier. that less painful, and that much more rewarding, but true love starts with self love, and self love starts with the permission to live. love yourself for exactly who you are, tweak what you feel neccessary but from a place of genuine betterment, and not from a place of confused reality and the need for perfection.

love is a deep pool of water that when experienced correctly, can bring refreshing to ones body, mind and soul. the need for perfection is a shallow pool, that if stayed in too long will cause you to drown and look stupid doing it.

give yourself permission to be the beautifully imperfect being that you are, love yourself unconditionally, and the right one, the right people will not be able to help but love you too.

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i completely bombed my open mic performance last night. i mean, i'm pretty sure i did. i was told i did good, despite my nervousness, "you didn't look nervous", my girlfriends are such good girlfriends. i was sooo nervous guys, like it was my first time all over again, i practiced and practiced and practiced, until i started to confuse myself, because i was adamant about not bringing up my notebook with me. such a newly written piece, i really should have, there was no time for it to dig it's heels into my soul, but i was adamant about doing it.

yet peeking through my pants wetting, knees knocking nervousness, pride rose up in my heart. thoughts of 'i'm basically a pro, i know what i'm doing, i can sooo totally do this', crept up, and i think i got overly confident, which as you can imagine nervousness and cockiness is not a good combination to have.

and so i bombed, i mean, i'm pretty sure i did. i forgot half of the poem once i reached the middle of the 2nd verse and my quick thinking brain went into overdrive putting together fragments and pieces in an attempt to salvage my sanity and my poem. i haven't even looked at the video yet, fearing i may  

 cause my camera to malfunction due to my tears.

am i being overly dramatic? maybe. because really, i don't think it was that bad. and it happens to everyone.

but guys, last night i was humbled.

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