In The Dark

Thursday, December 17, 2009

I pulled my sweater up above & over his head.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“I’ve captured you,” I whispered.

I felt him in the dark.

His eyes traced mine, my nose, lips, chin.

Fingers ran along the pronunciation of my collarbone.

Eyeballs glazed over the familiar beauty mark placed gently in my sternal notch.

A swift lick of the lips, met the eager mind, somewhere between the eyes.

He gawked at my breasts.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“Touch them.”

“They were made for you.”

BOMPF*

Unfathomability

I don't fall easily, or very often.
Too
But when I do,
Deep
I fall HARD.
To
Straight to hell.
Measure
BOMPF*

Compensation for wrong doing...

Sunday, December 13, 2009

I am elated right now.

ATONEMENT is on.

Although I have it on DVD, of course, it excites me to see HBO playing it.

I LOVE this movie.

In all its epicity. Lol.

BOMPF*

Voices

Thursday, December 10, 2009

His eyes.

They speak.

To me.

As did the eyes of all the others. Although, it’s different this time.

Unfounded mystery.

Venomous desire.

It hurts to want him.

Excruciating to need him.

Yet I’m a magnet to his malignant being.

His existence puzzles me.

Why was he given to me?

Like a gift, never meant to be unwrapped.

Pandora’s Box. A trophy. To be seen and cherished, but faintly touched.

Enchantment explores my mind, at the slightest sound of his voice.

Anticipation takes over my body, by the feeble touch of his handle.

When the wind blows I find myself yearning, for a whiff of his breath.

My senses go on a frenzy, I smell him, as if he were standing right in front of me.

Inexplicable beauty.

Green.

Or blue.

Or grey.

Or yellow.

Can’t decide.

Like a mood ring without meaning.

Can never tell the outcome of the day.

Subjectivity.

Like the Virgo within, he changes.

Stones that change shade dependent upon an emotion.

Yet not cold.

Never black.

Stressed. Tense. Or Upset.

…as his actions would lead you to believe.

His ogle never speaks of such frigid sentiment.

Only of fervor and immense libido.


BOMPF*

Hands down...

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

I'm too proud...for love.

I feel like crying, but, I won't.

Today is...

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

MY DAY!

Happy Birthday to ME!

Yaay!

:D

Do Us Part

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

I should be sitting across from him. At dinner. For the very first time. Legs crossed beneath the table. Like a lady. Manicured nails. Palm cuffed beneath the chin. Right. 4 carat Diamond ring. Left. An impatient sigh, blew the hair from my eye. Sit up straight. Fingers tapping. I wait. Lipstick stains on the twice filled glass. Flutes remain print-less as if we had Naegeli syndrome.

Through squinted eyes I peered over the shoulder of the pesky waitress as she asks for the third time if I needed a drink. This time, I should’ve said yes, “A Bob Marley please,” as a tyro rendition of No Woman No Cry repetitiously drowned my thoughts. Instead, I spot an older couple. Maybe in their seventies. He, once a restless scientist toiling to find the cure. She, a District Attorney wishing she’d worked a little less; just enough to raise a little angel, not the companion she met at 13. Once a man, twice a child. I imagined. Nevertheless, there was love. Love that withheld through lonely dinners, missed birthdays, long research sabbaticals, grueling court cases, and chemo. At the end of the journey, they still had each other. I wondered if we would.

The sound of thunder brought me out of my daze, nearly spilling the flavored water in my square-shaped goblet. Foot tapping, I felt a tingle, squeezed my thighs tighter. As rain broke through a sky of gray clouds, I shook my head and watched it hit the pavement. Picturing him bouncing out of a giant drop, I gazed through prestige windows that made me feel just as small as I did when I first moved to this city. His city. His streets. His bright lights. His big apple. His favorite restaurant. His birthday. His ass is an hour and a half late. I’ve always believed that music is life, but I never imagined it taking away the love of mine.

My napkin fell as I got up to rush to the restroom. A bladder infection on top of a ravenous stomach wasn’t going to help any. After relieving myself, I stared at my round face, almond eyes, and pouty-when-distraught lips. If I wore foundation, I would have piled it on. If I wore blush, I would have painted merry cheeks. Charcoal eye liner and deep cherry lipstick only highlighted my mood.

Walking back I notice the elderly couple had vanished. That quick? As if they were never there. Through a rack focus I spot a man standing at my table, running his forefinger around the rim of his glass. Excuse me, I thought, what the hell. But as I got closer to my seat a lump filled my throat and my steps became weak. Hesitation took over. I've never liked long black trench coats. Men in black harboring emotionless stares. I approached him, ready, so I thought. Was it someone from the industry? When our eyes met and his shifted, I knew it was the end.

I know the exact second I lost control. My hands shook, my feet quivered, lips trembled, tears fell. Memories flushed my mind. Just Married scripted on the back of the Maybach. He only rode in style. Black sand between toes on Waianapanapa Beach. Nights of coition on star kissed feather beds. Long talks about what each of our seven children would grow up to be. Whose lips and eyes our grandchildren would have.

At that moment, I realized I’d never sit across from him. Never wonder how life would’ve been if we made every dinner date. Arrived on time to every birthday party. Worked less. Took more vacations together. No children. No chemo.

Just, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kest.”

BOMPF*

Humor...

Sunday, November 15, 2009

This is just too funny. Please find amusement in this. If not, don't fuss, just disregard.

Found it at The Ant Thomas Corner and had to repost...

The Boondocks


A real life instance...



The Boondocks poking fun...



BOMPF*

Crippled. Part II.

Friday, November 13, 2009

I’m taking my love back. I knew I shouldn’t have given it away in the first place. Should’ve followed my dome. Instead of my heart that yearning to fill the void. It’s been three years since I’ve had one. A real one. And I swear I can take on another 10. It’s easier this way. Alone. Easier to live life. My life. For now. Consumed with work and school. I mean school and work. Easier not to need. Or give a shit. Damn. Or FCUK.


Digression: Profanity. I’m becoming a bit more comfortable with it. A censored version at least. As a child, I was always offended when people swore. It’s not that serious. I would think. But Mama says express yourself. That I shall do.


It’s important to stay focused. On everything I will achieve. Distractions are beneath me. And if I succumb to love, intimacy, and the art of being comfortable with goodmorning, how’d you sleep, have a good day, how’s your day going, talk to you when you get home, how was your day, I’ll call you in a sec, I went riding in the desert today, goodnight, sleep good, I’ll talk to you in the morning - I’ll forget about me again. And everything I will achieve.


Don’t ever settle for less I told her. You sell yourself short in the end. Losing your balance? It happens. Now get back on track. Don’t solely depend on another human being for anything you can give yourself. Make sure your life is aligned. So when the next loser comes around to knock you down, you’re only temporarily handicapped. It’s not a permanent state.


Practice what you preach.


BOMPF*

A Star Is Born

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

If you haven't noticed, I LOVE MUSIC. Hence, why I always have a song blaring when you visit my page.




Music Is Life. The Soundtrack of My Life.



I am inspired by "A tight verse, over the perfect beat."

Always eager to find thought-provoking, noteworthy, and innovative artist, I stumble upon the up & coming, J. COLE. I am a stan of true Lyricists, and Jermaine Cole is a lyrical genius. He's the best I've heard since Lupe in a while and I am SURE he's going to make his mark. His style and thought process are refreshing, as we all need a little cool breeze every now & then.

A reminder as to why and how the culture of Hip Hop exists.

"...don't worry I'm just venting, the late night thoughts of a ni**a on a mission, and rock my girl to sleep in missionary position, tuck her ass in and then I went and grab pen and there you have it, words flowing like magic..."

He's the guy flowing on my page. Check on him here and here. I like him here too.

BOMPF*

Crippled

Friday, November 6, 2009

I can’t breathe. I whispered. He took my breath away.

My arms are limp. I said. I couldn’t hug him. Arms. Took away the strength.

My feet are numb. I cried. I could no longer get to him. He seemed so distant.

I can’t see. I screamed. Love is blind.

But it will not take over my mind.

BOMPF*

I don't have to say you're beautiful...

Sunday, November 1, 2009

I absolutely LOVE love love this song. + performance.

Ryan Leslie is...pure genious.

Enjoy...



BOMPF*

.bostonarizona.

Friday, October 9, 2009

You enter me every night. Sometimes throughout the day. Your fingers touch my soul, without leaving a trace. No scratches. No bruises. Your fingers have no nails.

Your nervous habit. Go ‘head, bite ‘em.

Your path, you left unmarked. No visible signs. That’s why no one knows you exist. Inside. Me. & that’s how I like it. Love that last for hours on hours. Deep breathing like Lamaze. I smell your breath, traveling from my ear, to my neck, then on to meet my breath.

I say, “Baby.” You say “Yes.”

It’s my favorite part of our sessions.

My near screaming vocals. You’re exhausted tone. I’m an aficionada of words, and yours are sounding as good as you feel.

No, not yet, open your eyes, don’t miss a beat, stroke, thump. Pound.

My walls.

Bang hard against your walls. You, in one of your exemplified outburst. Profanity then transmits through my tympanic membrane. Every other word distastefully hurled at my cochlea. My ear now throbs to the rhythm of my heart. Or is it the rhythm of my heart that I’m hearing in my ear. Either way you’re too loud. Shh. Can’t you just quiet down.

I now recollect why this never worked when we were kids. I was an ass. You did asshole things. Spoke asshole words.

“Too many damn questions,” he said.

We never really got along and I’m unsure if we do now.

You say I speak from my ovaries. My uterus controls my every thought. My words are like a brain FCUK.

Well guess what.

.You.FCUK.me.every.single.night.

.Phone.FCUKS.

.Linguistic.FCUKS.

.Tongue.FCUKS.

A terminologically corrupt love affair is what our friendship has boiled down to…

Goodnight, you say.

Sweet dreams, I whisper.

I say, “Baby.” You say “Yes…”

“…Can I hit it in the morning?”

*receiver dangles*

BOMPF*

Flower Power

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Yesterday, my boss gave me these:


.hand-picked from his garden.


I really don't like flowers.


But I like these.


They're called Dahlia's.


Like my mom.


Delia.


She adores The Color Purple.


They remind me of her.


Thanks BO'C. My desk now looks as though it's being inhabited by a human being.


BOMPF*

.Dirty.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

I’m itchy. I just took a shower but your remnants...remain. I can smell the residue that stained my dress on the tip of my collar. Looking past it.

.12:37.

I notice the time. Ante Meridiem. Perhaps there’s a wrinkle. It was a dark and stormy night. The phone lines are down and the power is out. The only light is that of the dial pad, but no matter how much you punch those 10 digits. No dial tone. No ring. Flat line. Like death. But. Wait. You have no home phone; you have no land line. Maybe I should call AT&T, see if lightning is causing a problem with the wireless service. But. Wait. Rain in the East don’t necessarily make rain in the West. Unless there’s a monsoon and you’ve been washed away. In current that carried you through New Mexico, Texas, and into the Gulf. Were you trying to find your way back to me?

Shhh. I think you’ve arrived. There’s a tap at my window. Shh.

You see I just can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Without at least a goodnight, I’ll talk to you in the morning. A goodnight text will even do. Or else I’ll wake up in a few hours when my mind realizes it hadn’t registered that deep rasp, then a clear of the throat. Or the sipping through the straw; your sweet snore.

No. It’s just a good ol’ Nor’easter. Hurricane season on the east coast.

I’m itchy. You’ve entered my skin. My pores, they wreak your sin.

.1:01.

I notice the time. Ante Meridiem.

BOMPF*

Shame-Less-Plug

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

I've been working...

writing...

& profiling.

Excuse me while I wallow in self-proclamation.

Uno

Dos

Tres

BOMPF*

Red Hot Summer

Monday, June 29, 2009


Ever blazing, ever changing, is the state of a red hot summer.

Fire hydrants come alive, when and wherever temperatures rise. Street floods all caused by a red hot summer.

Muggy, sticky-icky humid nights…then retreats to a third shower. All remnants of a red hot summer.

Walks in the dark, talks in the park, nights on the roof. All explored due to the heat of a red hot summer.

MDC pool all-days and sweaty basketball shorts are the stories of a red hot summer.

Grape popsicles, banana boats, and cookie dough filled ice cream cones. Send your thank you’s to the red hot summer.

This is the account of a red hot summer.

Waiting impatiently.

Anticipating, your arrival.
.rain, rain, go away.

.i wanna get dressed.


BOMPF*

Rest In Peace

Thursday, June 25, 2009



Michael Joseph Jackson August 29th, 1958 - June 25th, 2009

BOMPF*

That Girl...& her Brave New Voice

Monday, June 1, 2009

Now, if you haven't heard of Russell Simmons new poetry series...here's your official introduction.

Brave New Voices is a new seven part series that features teenage poets and their mentors from all over the country. They present a fulfilling blend of poetry, spoken word, hip hop, music, power, voice, and imagination.

...My kinda party...

Alysia speaks from the heart...from the depths of her soul, bringing lost words up from the bottom of her gut...I love this piece because it feels like she's speaking from MY heart...soul...and gut.

Enjoy...



BOMPF*

Back Like I Never Left...

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Sooo.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve done this, but I do love this little world called the “BLOG” so I’m creeping my way back into it. Pardon my jumpy, back and forth, unclear thoughts…:/

A quick update on my life:

~ Finished up my second semester of my first year of graduate school. YaaY! Started my summer course last night. Yes, I’m still traveling down this road of enlightenment. On my way to my PhD…hopefully :/

-Knowledge is never ending. If I could die saying I’ve done anything in life, I’d be proud going out screaming “I learned”. Or lack thereof. Corney I know. I’ll replace it with a better phrase when I think of one.

~I’m officially the Communications Assistant at work. That wasn’t my prior title. I work beneath the Vice President of Public Affairs. It’s unbelievable how much I’m learning! Networking is great, politics, not so great. But I’m enjoying every second of it.

-I’m honestly in preparation for the fight against the masses.

~My first “Published Article” came out last Thursday. *May 7th 2009* Save the date…lol. It appears in a local paper, The Bay State Banner. Exciting/fulfilling milestone in my life. I think I’m scheduled to do one per week. I’m trying to get that down to maybe once a month. Happy to be in Print.

-Writing is my first love. "What more can I say.”

-“I’m not a biter, I’m a writer…for myself & others…”

~You must check out the new networking site… FLYPEOPLES.com

Again… You must check out the new networking site… FLYPEOPLES.com

I’m not tremendously profound of all these sites, but this one is family owned and I ENDORSE it to the fullest.

-You must JOIN. Just tell a friend, to tell a friend, to tell a friend. *& she grins*

Hmmm…what more CAN I say…?

Thanks Phella.

BOMPF*

I'm still here...

Friday, April 24, 2009

I am...

I swear...

Just give me a few more daysssssssss...

BOMPF*

Kismet

Monday, March 30, 2009


Mama Yayo says my middle name was supposed to be Felicia. If she wasn’t so exhausted after pushing my big head out, it might’ve turned out that way. Instead it was left up to my dad, who I inherited this massive dome from. Do you agree when I say it was a conspiracy?


Opal is the name I was given. Yes. Opal. Like the birth stone. & no not mine. Opal. Like the erratic redhead from All My Children. & no he wasn’t a fan. His youngest sister is actually named Hope Lynn, maybe he saw a resemblance? Wrong again.


Thank goodness for the first name I’ve been hiding it with all these years. I even told other kids it was Felicia, & when they asked why there was an “O” on my lunch card, I replied, “those idi-boos made a mistake.”


Anyway, life happens as it does, so it can happen as it should. Or something of the sort. I first heard that from Justin on Baldwin Hills. Then from his new beau Aysia on her blog. The statement holds much truth. Quotable. I wonder who’s to credit.


A link from the event I did about two weeks ago. It was my first time seeing it go down from beginning to end. Went swell, served its purpose. As long as the media shows up, they’re happy.




A few things to write about, just haven’t pieced them together. My mind doesn’t ever stop swirling.


I signed on to AIM today which is an extremely rare occasion for me. Someone’s away message read:


“The dumber people think you are, the more surprised they're going to be
when you kill them”


LMAO.


Ooo. AIM World.


BellePosh. Catch me if you can.


BOMPF*

While Rih's Whipping Her Hair...

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


I'm pulling mine out.

Long fricken weeeeek...

& it just started.

Annoyed by this cold (not the weather), and EVERYTHING else.

work & school = ultimate torture

PhD Dream = looking bleeeeak

To be continued...

BOMPF*

Commonality

Monday, March 16, 2009

The "cold" is a commonality that we all face, numerous times a year.

But since I've been back on my vitamin binge, I've managed not to get sick.

Bouts of Vitamin C, GNC's Hair, Skin, & Nails Vitamins, and a One A Day has got me feeling real crakish these days.

But it's been working thus far, so I'm staying true to my regimen.

BUT now I'm getting sick. This weekend I woke up with a sore throat plus all the other initial symptoms & as nice a day as it was in the Bean yesterday, I couldn't even enjoy it.

I laid semi-conscious in bed, and when my father told me to keep an eye on the shrimp he was making for dinner, while stuck in my trance, it burned.

ooopppsss.

So I had to get up and make an entire new meal, and I couldn't even be pissed about it. Maybe this will end this shrimp fest he's been on since the beginning of the year. I mean I LOVE shrimp, but if he continues, I fear the iodine will poison us.

Thank God I burned it. I think it was a sign. Maybe I can get him to cook my fave - oxtails - next week.

:)


BTW...One of my favorite movies of all time, A Bronx Tale is coming to the Bean! I cannot wait! I went to see it on Broadway in NY for my B-Day back in 07' while seeking out a film school, but was extremely disappointed when every theatre went on strike! If only you knew how excited I am right now.

Anyway, I have a media event this Thursday that I played a miniscule part in and hopefully it turns out swell. If it's a disaster, some will have to face the brunt of it, which will suck.


I'll let you know how it goes.
Maybe I'll post some clippings so you can judge for yourself.
BOMPF*

Reviving the Roots of Hip Hop

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

"Reviving the Roots of Hip Hop" was an article I wrote back in 2006 for my college newspaper. I was working on the entertainment section, so of course I wrote about my fave - Lupe Fiasco.

Hip Hop’s ever-changing style has recently dished out its newest lyric, an artist who has his mind set on revolutionizing the music scene. Wasalu Muhammad Jaco doesn’t go by his “government name”, as the streets call it, but is well known as Lupe Fiasco. Eluding the stir of his album’s original release date, Fiasco’s mind-blowing debut album dropped on September 19, 2006, reaching number 1 on the Rap Albums Chart.

Kicking and pushing his way into the scene with his hit single “Kick, Push” Fiasco talks about his childhood love and fascinating affair with skateboarding. He expresses how he found his female love through skateboarding with lines like,


“Met his girlfriend she was clapping in the crowd/ love is what, what was happening to him now/ he said I would marry you/ but I’m engaged with these arials and variels/ but I don’t think this board is strong enough to carry two/ she said Bow I weigh 120 pounds/ Now let me make one thing clear/ I don’t need to ride yours, I got mine right here.” Fiasco never had to look far for anything, everything he needed in his mysterious life he found in his first love, the skateboard.


Fiasco, raised on Chicago’s West Side, grew up with the influence of his parents, both of whom exposed him to every element (good or bad) that society had to offer. In his 24 years of life, there hasn’t been much he hasn’t either experienced first hand, or heard of. Emerging from the diversified world in which he was brought up, he became a lover of Jazz. With Fiasco’s mixture of Jazz, the influence of his Muslim religious background, eclectic soul, and varied interest, he never ceases to amaze his listeners. His words are those of an unheard, unseen, and long veiled prophet.

Fiasco’s style is definitely new and refreshing, and he does nothing but give the people something they can recognize. The Hip Hop world has been claiming that for years it hasn’t experienced anything with meaning, or any thought provoking, head-bopping flow. Fiasco has definitely stepped up to the challenge and given Hip Hop its sense of reality back. Hip Hop started out as a way young black artist expressed their political views on corporate America. As Lupe says in his song “American Terrorist”,

“It's like, don't give the black man food, give red man liquor, red man fool, black man nigga, give yellow man tool, make him railroad builda, also give him pan, make him pull gold from river, give black man crack, glocks to teens, give red man craps, slot machines...now bring it back, bring it back, bring it back, bring it back…”

Lupe Fiasco, has definitely brought it back.


This article would be soooo different if it was written today, March 11th, 2009. The evolution of a writer.

You know what kind of annoys me about writing here, the fact that you can't indent. Is there some sort of trick to this? Argh.


Constitution Date December 2006

BOMPF*

I Am The Dream. You Are The Dreamer.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

I am given the strength to achieve the things I aspire. One day I will be released from my nocturnal slumber. From this nocturnal bed of roses. For I am destined to live in the day, not just in my dreams.


On the journey of the dream manifested.


No dried up raisins ova hea'



...do the stanky leg...

& shake that woop do dee dupe...

BOMPF*

"Fans, Friends, Artist..."

Monday, March 2, 2009

...must meet. Which one are you. Which one are me.





Love Erykah.

I guess I'll see ya next lifetime...

BOMPF*

"The Black List"

Thursday, February 26, 2009


Sooo... I was invited to the East Coast Screening of HBO's "The Black List" Volume II... and of course, I was in attendance.

"The Black List" profiles some of today's most fascinating and prominent African-Americans, who in the documentary, speak about childhood ambitions that have shaped their lives and the impact they have on the world today. Volume I included Russell Simmons, P. Diddy, Toni Morrison, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Al Sharpton, Keenan Ivory Waynes, Zane, and many more.

Volume II includes:

Majora Carter
Angela Davis
Suzanne De Passe
Laurence Fishburne
Barbara Harris
T.D. Jakes
Deval Patrick
Tyler Perry
Charley Pride
Patrick Robinson
Maya Rudolph
RZA
Melvin Van Peebles
Kara Walker

The entrance to Boston's Strand Theatre was a sight I'm unsure I've ever seen. Mayor Menino's renovation of the urban-stationed theatre is magnificent. Once you hit Columbia Road, you could see the shooting blue lights lace the sky in their criss cross motion. BPD lined the street directing traffic around and away from the theatre. As I walked toward the entrance, I was graced with flashbacks of the "Strand Party" days when high schoolers grinding & wining, lined the lobby walls. This was a tactic used to keep Boston's young off the streets on the weekends and in a safe, supervised place.

People stood in the lobby chatting and greeting each other. I spotted my boss who handed me my bright yellow wristband which I neatly and securely placed on my tiny left wrist.




In a fuzzy rack focus I spotted the red carpet that trailed from a set of grand stairs to a separate entrance. Through that entrance came the first high-profiler of the night. Boston’s Mayor Thomas M. Menino. Menino’s long-time love-affair with the city has made him quite the celebrity, at least to us.

Next came the governor of Massachusetts, Deval Patrick. Patrick is the second elected African-American to hold such a title in the United States. The man is a historic figure before his history is even made. He was the highlight of the night, so of course my boss got him to take a picture with me. As I shook his hand and greeted him, I felt the heat of his gaze. His eye contact radiated knowledge, respect, and power; he has such presence.









As producer Tommy Walker, Deval Patrick, Mayor Menino, and the documentary's creator Timothy Greenfield-Sanders posed for the press, I snapped a side shot from my end of the room.
Upstairs, during the reception, as everyone mingled, greeting old and new friends, I was busy meeting the Founder/President of the The Color of Film, which is the one of the companies that coordinate the Roxbury Film Festival. I’ve been wanting to get involved with this festival for years now, but never had the chance to figure it all out. So you can only imagine how excited I was. Deval Patrick was the highlight of the night. This was the highlight of my night.











There were a few quotes I took note of:

“As a black artist you can paint a wall of smiley faces, and they’ll ask “why are you so angry.”
-Alice Walker
"Our Presence as people has always been there, it was just buried under a lot of sand.”
-RZA
“The little boy that I was, made it through, so as a man, I have the obligation to keep going.”
-Tyler Perry
“I don’t remember a single word that was said at the MLK speech. But I remember how I felt.”
-Deval Patrick
“God may not come when you call him, but he’s always right on time.”
-Melvin Van Peebles
“The Black List” Volume II premieres tonight, exclusively on HBO.












BOMPF*

The Banished Species

Wednesday, February 18, 2009







Sometimes, very rarely though, I just need a hug. Not just a regular hug either. I don't want to ask my sister. Or brother. Or even my BFF. A hug given by strong arms and a warm sheltering embrace. A hug that smells of Armani. When I nestle my head into its chest, my nose is tickled by the Old Spice. When I lift my head I feel the itchy-ness of the beard with soft lips planting that adoring kiss. Just masculinity to be close to. On nights when the ghost of Beantown winter-winds are tearing at my window; your protection is all I'll need. Sometimes I'm just cold. A bigger body gives off more heat, you know.

But I can't.

Why, you ask?

Because I won't.

I choose not to.

Men/Male Species are banned from my life---- almost banished. Not forever, but for now at least. I refuse to let one get that close to me. I give em' an inch, they want to take a mile. I ask you for a hug, you wanna give me some love. Down and dirty 'tween the sheets love. Honestly, that thing down low beneath your hanes has been temporarily removed from my life. Yes, you're banished. Temporarily.

This temporary state will last as long as I deem. It's my choice, so I don't care what Maslow thinks. These are modern times and the age is different. The romanticism era is long gone & forgotten by men of today.

I need food, water, shelter, oxygen, and sleep. Yes, you say love/connection, but there's no page in text where you listed sex. Intimacy is what you said.

But has anyone's words ever reached you much farther than touch would allow you to feel? Well I've had a taste and I refuse to give up on it. It's out there, I know it. At the moment, I'm just not searching.

I'm just not interested.

BOMPF*

Dreaming Of A Summer...

Friday, February 13, 2009



Love Outfit!








.Work Attire.



.A little longer & a bit more sleeve.



.Watch Me.









A proud admittance to one of my style influences.



BOMPF*

"Extra, Extra, Read All About It!"

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Immediately following the new year, well in "work week" terms, the excitement at work began. I missed that first day back, but upon my return, I stumbled into a completely empty office. After being asked if I was in an induced coma for the past few days, I found out that everyone, except for the Big Execs, had been laid off. So since I'm only 22 and not the Exec of anything (but my own life of course) you're wondering what the heck I was doing there right...?

Well, I didn't get the memo. Ha.

Considering we are a non-profit organization and one of our biggest ventures is funded by an outside source, if they don't fund us, we don't have a program. So guess what they decide to do on the programs launch date?

Pull funding. Yes, I said pull it, withdraw, you know fast cash.

Monday was a pretty emotional day from what I heard. Aside from the televised press conference, the mood in the office was not a happy one. As I looked through newspaper & TV-news clippings, I relived the day:

As J.P.K stood and anounced that 17 states along the East Coast from NY as far as VA were going to be left out this winter, employees stood by in disarray, as if a part of their bodies were being dismembered. T'was a sight to see.

So, as I sit in front of the 15" plasma (I actually had work to do) wondering when someone would ease my discomfort and serve me my fate, J.P.K walks in (mind you he SELDOM retreats to this end of the office) face flushed as if he'd just been sprayed with liquid pink blush, announcing that our source was going to fund us after all. The program was back on!

There he goes, throwing around that last name. How he got them to sign back on, only God he knows.

So the commotion began and a reporter from every news station in the city was there on that Wedenesday after-noon. Or maybe it was before, I can no longer recall.

We all lined up in front of the conference room watching J.P.K and the President of our source tell the media that the program would run after all. Low-income families once again have hope in surviving the winter cold.

When asked why I wasn't front and center, before the cameras, in the limelight, beaming my wide-mouthed, chinky-eyed smile, I replied,"Do you see me? My attire and hair are not suitable for front page press!" In return, I received a chuckle and a shake of the head.

I mean, I didn't look that bad in my grey slacks, peach-ish pink-ish half turtle neck, buttoned in the back above a flattering peekhole, schrunched down the sides, fitted top. The died jet black tresses on my scalp were parted down the middle and pulled to one side, exposing my wide Pacific Islander shaped face. But Mama Yayo always taught us not to ever leave the house looking anything less than presentable, because "you never know who you're going to meet."

Well yeah, I guess she was preparing me for my life. Literally.

Either way, that definitely wasn't going to be one of the first times I, Belle Posh was going to be seen on TV.

Yeah, right guys.


BOMPF*

"Thick Chicks"

Sunday, February 8, 2009

I'm not a "thick chick"...

But ummm...yea...




Trapped in my books, needed a little release. Hope you enjoyed.

BOMPF*

Sweetest Dream

Saturday, February 7, 2009

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
Far away and dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Well, every moment spent with you
Is a moment I treasure

Lying close to you
Feeling your heart beating
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming
Wondering if it's me you're seeing
Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we're together
And I just wanna stay with you
In this moment forever, forever and ever

I don't wanna miss one smile
I don't wanna miss one kiss
Well, I just wanna be with you
Right here with you, just like this
I just wanna hold you close
Feel your heart so close to mine
And stay here in this moment
For all the rest of time

I don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, babe

And I don't wanna miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

I'd still miss you, babe

And I don't wanna miss a thing...

Aerosmith - Don't Want To Miss A Thing - 1998

~Written By Diane Warren


BOMPF*

HiS

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

This is an ode I wrote almost 3 years ago. Its an account of the relationship between a friend and I. We had an enigmatic chemistry. This is exactly how I felt when I was around him...

His face/for the first time/was strange to me/i didn't know how to picture him.../

His unsure touch/when he rubs me/its kinda like he's nervous/he just wants to get it right/the steady/repetitious/stroke of his handle/soothes me/like a baby/being hushed to sleep/it only makes me want him more/

I find myself/yearning/just to be/in his presence/

Just to feel/his manly hands/rub my back/his hands up/and down my thigh/his lips/touch my soft cheek/his warm breath/on the nape of my neck/

His hold is my escape/my haven/my only refuge/from my daily agony/

When his arms/are wrapped around me/i feel/his warm embrace/If only i could savour the moment/for it wont last/forever/its only a matter of seconds/before he pushes me away/looks me in the face/then turns/away/stands up/caresses my chin/and walks away/

Constitution Date: May 2006


BOMPF*

"Mezeker Means To Remember"

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Dying for some Def Poetry...





So every week I'll post a new Poetry/Spoken Word video.

I've always wanted to be in one of these performances. Well in the audience at least, I'm way too shy to say anything aloud.

Maybe when I make my trip to NYC this spring break I'll go see some spoken word...

BOMPF*

Teeth Don't Fail Me Now

Saturday, January 31, 2009

I think there is something seriously wrong with my teeth. I mean, they're straight & everything, but it hurts when I bite down...on both sides.
Even toothpaste seems too sweet these days. :/
I don't know, but I can't get the taste of the $10,000 bucks (of which I do NOT have)...that it's going to cost me too fix them...OUT of my MOuTH!
All they're really going to do is prop my mouth open & play around in the moist cave of silver & off-white...with clanky metal teeth utensils.
Oh how I despise the feeling of that drill that the over-indulgence of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups have led me to.

Ohhh the route of a root canal.

By the way, Dirty Dancing LIVE is coming to the Boston Opera House. I soo want to see it.

Back to my homework, and away from all these distractions.

Chrisette Michelle and John Mayer help me through it.

BOMPF*

Model Minorities

Friday, January 30, 2009

Today, my boss told me about the 80's term, Model Minorities & how it originated with Asians, then Caribbean Islanders in the U.S. It's basically how these groups of minorities come to America and despite their initial economic and financial mishaps, find a way to survive and take-on entrepreneurship and education like no other ethnic group could. The emigrated people of Cabo Verde also picked up this trait when they came to the land of opportunity, but


"when CV boys dropped their native tongue, and picked up the gat, sh*t went DOWN!"....said he.

Lol. What a character, he is.



Then, he flicked a













at me.



I wanted to... him.


Not because it popped me on the back of my neck, and startled the horse sh*t out of me. Of course not. But because I had the suckiest assignment today!


Well, maybe it wasn't that sucky, it could've just been because I had one of those weird headaches I get. Where I feel pressure behind my eyes, that eventually leads to a massive migraine by about 7PM.

At home, I fell alseep thinking, "I've done MRI's & all sorts of test, but still no explanation for these head-attacks I've been getting since about age 10." I've concluded that they're probably caused by the heavy thoughts I consume my mind with. I think way more than I speak.
Maybe I should cease writing and pick up motivational speaking.


Sike.


Ohhhhhhh! I saw the final edits of our three TV commercials today & I heard our radio spots the other night!

(she screams with excitement)

I didn't know WHAT to do with myself...but I'll blog about it later, I'm

soooo

tired...

zzzzzzzzZ.



Oh yeah,

BOMPF*

Never, Say Never

I didn't ever believe in blogs.

I was totally against the thought of having anonymi's {there goes another one of my self-made words} peering into my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.

A blog (a contraction of the term "Web log") is a Web site, usually maintained by an individual with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material such as graphics or video. Entries are commonly displayed in reverse-chronological order.
-extracted from an unreliable, implausible source that a writer/researcher shouldn't ever use

What I'm telling you is I'm a very private person. I refuse to let people really get to know me. I just feel that once a person knows too much, it makes you vulnerable in a sense. More susceptible to get hurt.

I've been called secretive, furtive, and surreptitious many times. Surreptitious, in my opinion is taken it a bit too far, but I accept the constructive criticism with open arms.

I truly believe that you telling me things about myself, teaches me more about me than I can come up with.

I mean, we don't ever really know ourselves, do we?

& no, it's not contradiction, I didn't ever say you can get in my head, just that you can see things in me, that without an out-of-body experience, I couldn't see for myself.

Throughout our lives, we go on these soul-searching, self-finding expeditions, and when we return home we're hit once again with the reality of others perceptions of us. So is it what you think of your self, or what people see you as, that really matters?

The secret to getting past my furtive ways is simply asking. I'm private, but honest & I've been told, that is what saves me. You can pretty much ask me anything & I try my best to be honest, give the whole truth & nothing but the truth, so help me God. If there is something I don't want to talk about, I simply won't answer.

Therefore,

I blog because over the years it's been so hard to resort back to my one true love. I've been distracted by school work, textbooks, RTV, no, not MTV, RTV - tell me the last time you saw a music video on that channel, maturing, living life, & last but not least the inevitable, unforgivable male species.

I blog because 20 years from now when my children are in their prime, they can have a place to recount the life of their mom, whom ever she will then be. Revel in her thoughts and get to know her in a way spoken words couldn't ever explain.

I blog because since I've started, I honestly haven't been able to stop. So I'm stuck between the compilation of eons of stickys & palm memos, & word documents that have been veiled, due to the lack of a venting source.

I've found you.

I've always planned to get back to writing, so now when I ask him, "have you been rhyming," & in rebuttle he hits me with, "have you been writing" I can proudly say, "yes, feast your eyes on belleposh.blogspot.com"

It's been difficult to pull away from my worldly distractions long enough to show my .first. love that I didn't ever give up, didn't ever stop loving, & always will remain true because

sticks

and

stones

can

break

my

bones,

but


words


won't

ever

hurt

me.


BOMPF*

Recess & The Recession

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

I was going to wait a little while to write this entry, but today's headline jolted me back to reality, asking myself the question, "What are you waiting for? Its not about to happen, it's happening."

Remember when you were a child, and every day you would wake up and your biggest reason for not crawling into bed with your Mom and/or Pop, holding on to your tummy because you swore it would explode if you had to go to school today, was because you were looking forward to Recess?

During science, you day dreamed about kicking the ball over the fence so that the recess monitor would have to leave the school yard, march into the street to retrieve the dirty, red, bouncy ball, just so you would have 40 seconds of independence without having an adult peering over your shoulder?

Or in English, you imagined Bobby from Ms. Luck's class slipping you a note, while you played jump-rope singing, "Down by the acres, where the green grass grows, I smell Lisa pretty as a rose," that read do you like me, yes or no? Circle one.

During lunch, you hurriedly ate your fish and cheese patty and gulped down your apple juice thinking that would shorten the time until Recess.

Remember while trying not to go deaf from screams of joy and get trampled by the overly excited kids that didn't get to play outside when at home, you spot your clique and head towards them with that extra cheesy smile & sparkle in your eye?

Then the Recess monitor blows that silver whistle, attached to a WWJD chain hanging from her neck signaling the end of Recess. When you look around to make sure you weren't leaving any friends behind, all you see is yourself sitting at this desk in that purple cardigan sweater your mom bought you when you got your first job, behind a stack of paper that has been there for over a week, with that Friday morning deadline pounding its remnants into the back of your head like a hammer. Right before your brain splatters onto your desk, ruining the 1/8 of work you've gotten done so far, your boss walks in delivering your fate.

When he leaves, it's like your frozen in time. Wondering, what the hell just happened?

You think it's Recess time? You think your getting a break? Vacation? Being granted a sabbatical?

No, you've just been laid off.

Still want to try that, my tummy hurts excuse tomorrow morning?

Just when you thought you had eluded the falling economy because you could still buy those Bobbi Brown & MAC cosmetics you love so much. Not knowing that the only reason you were buying so much lately was because you could no longer afford those expensive garments you once treasured. The unconscious purpose of your make-up binge was to hide your true feelings of fret and cover up your sagging face, caused by this stress induced economy.


You are now officially inducted into the age of the Recession.


See for yourself:


Distraught Father Kills Wife, 5 Kids, Self


Goodnight bloggers, Lost is on.

BOMPF*

My Embarassment, Your Amusement

There hasn't been a time when I haven’t gotten caught while being nosey.

The more I try to be sneaky, the worse I make a situation. My inquisitive and curious ways led me to one of my most embarrassing moments ever.

Might I mention, Facebook is the perfect source for investigating.

I got in contact with a childhood friend who had moved away many years ago. I hadn’t spoken to him in about 4 years. When we were younger we both had a crush on each other, but time and distance had separated us.

While looking at his Facebook page and his wall, I found myself going through his many pages of comments. Then I came across a comment that had a link. I figured it was a simple survey so I decided to take it. When I got to the site it was a questionnaire that asked you questions like:

.Who was your first crush.

.What was their name.

.Who is your crush now.

.Who is the first person you kissed.

Coincidentally, this person was all of the above.

The next thing the questionnaire asked was your full name and email. It said that you had to give this information accurately, in order to receive accurate results.

Now, the embarrassing part came at the end of the survey when I got to the last page and it said,

"You’ve been tricked!"

All the information was being sent to someone’s email!

I had no clue who the person was initially, but it turned out that it was his GIRLFRIEND!

How Embarrassing!

You think curiosity killed the cat?

No, it killed me. That was the last time I did a Facebook investigation.

BOMPF*

"Don't Get Left Out In The Cold"

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Today is the first day of my second semester of Grad School. Boy oh Boy. I have to get up in a few, long day ahead. Work, then class until 9:30PM {Eastern Time}. What a drag, wish I could be more excited because I've had a long break and it's only the first day.
I'm not. It's just not easy. Hopefully it will be a little less stressful this semester.

Actually, I take that back. It will be less stressful because that's how I'll make it.

So I'm remembering a couple months ago when we shot a commercial for the upcoming season. It was my first time on set. I've been around the lights, camera, action before, but it was different, you know. I was actually watching a commercial being shot. New for me.



Maybe every time it's aired people who know me and my association with it, will think of me.



.Cool.



Anywho, I met J.P.K for the first time that day. I mean, I've seen him a couple times at work, but its usually his back as he's walking away. Ha.



You know that saying, "hate to see you leave, but love to watch you walk away." Ha. There isn't anything about his "back" that I like to see, it just made me think of the phrase. Yea.



He's pretty cool. He saw me and actually stopped to greet me & ask who I was. All I could think of was, "this man could go anywhere in the world, and he'll be respected & recognized. All he has to do is say his last name."



He did great in the commercial by the way.



BOMPF*

Find Yourself

Monday, January 26, 2009

.these days I feel alone.

.theres no one here but me.

.no.

.one.

.here.

.but.

.me.

.trapped in this insane mind of mine.

.thats races about a thousand miles.

.an hour.

.times 24.

.a day.

.thoughts of you.

.thoughts of him.

.cant decide.

.dont know where to begin.

.if I go this way.

.the decisions made.

.if I go that way.

.my world is changed.

.im told that life is just a game.

.im only a pawn.

.that I might not rise at the wake of dawn.

.that I will always be this way.

.that of which I am.

.for God made me this shade and I will never change.

.no matter the amount of money I make.

.i will always be.

.this.

.though i am destined to be more than this.

.this life.

.for I know I have the gift.

.that of light.

.to make you see.

.theres more to me.

.more to this world.

.than what we perceive.

.although not perfect.

.no where near utopic.

.we make the best of it.

.reap from it all that it owes.

.find yourself.

.we all have a place here.

.dnt go astray.

.dnt just let this go.



Constitution Date: October 2006

BOMPF*

Obama!

Saturday, January 24, 2009

This picture of Michelle and Barack Obama was taken on May 26th, 1996 while the couple were doing an interview with Mariana Cook. Cook was compiling a project on couples in America, and the Obama's were featured.


When Mama Yayo showed me this picture on Friday morning, I was immediately taken aback. Seeing our President and the First Lady plainly sitting on their couch, almost 13 years ago, before they had children, in their Chicago home as regular BLACK Americans, took me right out of my element!


I would've gone into an episode of bawls if I didn't have to sit in front of a row a people wondering what my issue was so early in the morning, while riding the train to work.


Each and every time I see Michelle, I feel a rush of confidence. It's almost like my adrenaline starts pumping as though I were experiencing the excitement going on in her life. She exudes Encouragement. Motivation. Pride.


To see such a beautiful, unadorned, intellectual BLACK woman in a high position reminds me why the Rev. MLK fought and died for the respect of the black "race." I mean, we have our very first African American President, and no he's not married to a Caucasian women. Our President is BLACK.


The Obama's are my motivator to all young people, not just BLACK, who need to see positive role models showing that with will and perseverance, you can do and be anything you want in life.


This is my silent cheer to the Obama Family. Can you hear it?

BOMPF*

Allow Me To Pre-Introduce Myself...

Friday, January 23, 2009

I am unfounded and unexposed. Indited-ly pure, yet terminologically corrupt. My words reflect infection within themselves, within the passages written on each sticky, in each memo on my Treo, in the notes of my datebook, random pieces of paper, cyberly morphed into blog posts...

There is a deep, more profound abyss in defining my self-made words, that turn into sentences, then paragraphs into stories that only I sometimes understand.

At times I feel verbally crippled, linguistically challenged; thoughts only appear on paper, or on 17” plasmas by way of click-ety key strokes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was five when I wrote my first poem. I think. At least that’s what my cousin Karen remembers. A few years ago we took into recollection the creation of my very.first.poem. She says everyone was shocked by the words I managed to compose on this little sheet of paper. She thinks I wrote it before I was even able to read. Ha.

I’ve said it before, and I shall say it again:

“Writing Is My 1st Love. Everything else in my life has fallen into place behind it. I can draw a direct line from when I first fell, to now, today. It all coincides. In time the dream will be mine. So until then, here I am...Chasing It."

If only I still had .it. today…

BOMPF*