WHAT IF I AM A BLACK WOMAN

What if I am a Black Woman?
Is it a disease?
Well, if it is, I sure hope it's catching
Because they need to pour it into a bottle, label it, and sprinkle it all over the people
Men and Women - whoever loved or cried, worked or died for any one of us.

So what if I am a Black Woman
Is it a crime?
Arrest me!
Because I'm strong, but gentle...
I'm smart, but I'm learning...
I'm loving, but I'm hateful...
And I like to work because I like to eat and feed and clothe and house me,
mine, and yours and everybody's
Like I've been doing for the past 300 years.

What if I am a Black Woman?
Is it insane?
Commit me!
Because I want happiness, not tears;
Truths, not lies; Pleasures not pain; Sunshine, not rain; A man, not a child!

What if I am a Black Woman?
Is it a sin? Pray for me!
And pray for you too,
If you don't like women of color because we are...
Midnight Black, Chestnut Brown, Honey Bronzed, Chocolate Covered,
Cocoa Dipped, Big Lipped, Big Hipped, Big Breasted, and Beautiful...
All at the same time!

So what if I am a Black Woman?
Does it bother you that much because I want a man who wants me...
Loves me and trusts me...
Respects me and gives me everything because I want to give him everything back, PLUS!

What if I am a Black Woman?
I've got rights, same as you!
I have worked for them
Died for them
Lied for them
Played for them
Laid for them...
On every plantation from Alabama to Boston and back!

What if I am a Black Woman?
I love me, and I want you to love me too,
But I am, As I've always been,
Near you, close to you, beside you...Strong, Giving, Loving
FOR OVER 300 YEARS
YOUR BLACK WOMAN...LOVE ME!



This is not my work, but whoever did it did us black women a justice.

Black Girl Leaving Cuba

As I watch
The man with the mustache
Leave with my passport,
After the female emigration officer
Told me to stand the side,
My heart fills with dread.
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

He makes his way to the end,
Smiling at each officer
Locked in their individual cubicle
Allowing others to pass through
The Exit doors.
Then he disappears.
My passport disappears.
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

Time ticks by
And boarding time is soon upon me.
There he is
With a photocopy of the information page.
All he had to do was ask,
I had a copy.
He makes his way back this way.
Hope blossoms
Like a Hibiscus in bloom.
He passes straight
Decapitating my exotic flower.
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

In an office he goes
And I wait.
45 minutes to departure,
And I'm pleading with them
That I'm an Antiguan,
That I'm not a Cuban
Trying to escape
From "Defendiend La Socialisme".
Even if I was,
Would I leave in a plane?
All of this in my head of course.
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

It's because I'm black,
Isn't it?
Because my skin is as dark
As the coffee
The tourist grab up in 3's and 4's.
Because my skin
Is not the colour of the sand
Upon which I, myself, lay 4 days before.
These thoughts racing through the mind of a
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

Is this the end of
My glorious trip?
Will this taint the memories
Of red earth country sides on a comical horse,
Of beautiful sunsets tattooed in my head,
Of shaking my groove thang after a Cabaret
Of an adorable old lady trying to give me a kitten,
Of... Of... Cuba?
More thoughts of a
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

30 minutes till departure,
I'm about to break down,
My eyes pleading with the female officer,
Indicating that the flight on the PA is mine.
The man with the mustache leaves the office
And goes around a corner.
I can see the flight leaving me,
Me
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

Yes,
I can see it lifting off
Into the blue cloudless sky,
The same sky I admired
An hour ago on the way to the airport.
I can just see it now.
It's a bitter pill,
The kind of pill that is too big to swallow
So you suck on it
Till it is small enough to gulp down
Without ripping or deforming your oesophagus.
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

He's back,
But I've already accepted my destiny.
He brings my passport and I'm called
By the female emigration officer.
Does this mean I will become a
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

After she processes the paperwork,
She returns my passport and boarding pass,
Then tells me that the next time
I come to Cuba, I don't need a visa.
And
That was the problem.
So I ran to the gate
Well, the best I could do in flip flops
On smooth tiles.
Beautiful memories in tact
The colour of my skin no longer a curse
I became a
Black Girl Leaving Cuba.

She Dreams

She used to sit
On the window sill,
Legs swaying above
The unmerciful ground.

On that window sill
She would dream,
Dream in technicolour
And surround sound.

As crickets shrieked,
She would dream
Of places she would go,
People she would meet.

As the moonlight drenched clouds
Made their way to God knew where,
She dreamt
Of kisses and lovers.

In the distance,
Her mother calls,
Shrill and disruptive,
"Go get my smokes!!
Money's on the table,
And bring back my change!"

As she swung her legs
Back into reality,
Back into her hovel of a room,
She had one more dream,
Life without her mother.

Life with the woman
Who brought her into the world,
Who made everyday
A struggle,
Who made her question
Why she was ever born.

As she leaves the house,
Cigarette money stashed
In her back pocket,
She does the one thing she can do,
She dreams.

My Daughter's Dreams

She dreams
In psychotic shades
Of each colour
Of the rainbow.

Hot pink skies
Draping over black seas
In which neon green fish
Swim.

In her dreams
Love abounds
The scent of warm vanilla
Wafts through the air.

In her dreams
There are always puppies
To play with,
Kittens to purr.

In her dreams,
Diamonds are buried in the sand
And set
In the night skies.

In my daughter's dreams
Time does not exist
And mother's don't die.

Sometimes

Sometimes,
I want to fly away
To points unknown,
To eat things
That would make you wretch:
Monkey Brains,
And slugs,
Bull Testes and the eyeballs
Of sheep.

Sometimes,
I wish I could
Slip into a dimension
Where you would not know me,
Where I could sleep with
Tom, Dick, Harry,
Peter, Jane and Mary
And you would not care.

Sometimes,
I wanted to drink
Till I was drunk,
Smoke a cigar,
Some pot
And get in touch
With my inner drug addict.

But most times,
I settle,
I settle for a buzz
At the local wine bar
And a puff of apple flavoured tobacco
Which I did not inhale.

Most times,
I settle for chicken,
And if I'm daring, sushi,
Eel once,
Octopus a couple times
But most of the time, chicken.

Most times,
I settle for points known,
With the numbers for the hotel,
The taxi drivers,
And the local emergency personnel,
Which you keep
Alongside my itinerary.

Then one day,
I stood on the edge,
Of the plain of my reality
And the precipice of my desires.
The thermals of warm dreams
Enveloped me with the scent
Of Vanilla.

One step and
I would fall into
Every desire,
Every dream,
Every want my little heart
Could cultivate
And then I stepped back.
I settled.

Untitled

Outside the hotel,
Sat a man,
Sign in hand
Declaring his hunger,
His poverty,
His need.

Beside him
Sat his dog,
A beautiful specimen
Of a dog.
Not arrogant,
Not childish,
Not untrained.

There they sat.
Not a word
Passed his lips,
But he spoke,
Perhaps a language
Taught to him
By his dog.

A language
That had no syllables,
Verbs, nouns,
Supjects, object.
Nothing that could be
Found in any vocabulary
Far and/or wide.

The language
Spoken with the eyes
To anyone who looked his way.

Yet somehow
It garnered compassion.
Maybe it made him
More human,
Maybe it made him
Less human.
But every now and then,
Someone would reach for change
Maybe forgotten in a pocket
To present to him.

His gratitude,
Neither overzealous,
Nor underzealous,
Just enough
To put a skip in one's step,
A soft spot in one's heart,
Which reminds one
What it feels like
To be human.

Poetry Night Tonight

Hey y'all! Tonight there is a poetry night at the Coast Night Club in town, and I will be performing some of my poems. Hopefully, I get some pics and video clips to put up on this blog. Also there is the marketing side of promoting this blog.

To be honest, I'm really getting into blogging. I'm finding interesting blogs and I'm resisting the urge of blogging on my life. I'm going to channel it into my poetry.

You know what, I think I'm going to start another blog with my artwork. I'll plan that for the second half of this year. Okay, I'm babbling.

If you are here through the poetry night, Welcome!!

I love love this song

Seal - A change is gonna come 2008
Original by Sam Cook

I was born by the river
In a little tent
And just like the river
I've been running ever since.

It's been a long, long time coming
But I know a change gonna come
Oh, yes it is

It's been too hard living
But I'm afraid to die
I don't know what's up there beyond the sky.

It's been a long, long time coming
But I know a change gonna come
Oh yes it will.

Then I go to my brother
And I say: Brother oh help me please, yeh.
But he winds up knocking me
Back down on my knees.

There's been times
that I thought I wouldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, long, long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come
Yes it will, oh I know

A change is gonna come, but I know

A change is gonna come
Hey
A change is gonna come, right now, oooooh

A change is gonna come, I say it now
hey-ey-ey-ey-ey, oh no
Oh, believe me
I say a change is gonna come

The Meeting

I saw you there,
As I chatted with
People I can't remember now.

Then we met,
Like friends not yet made,
We chatted.

The night was young
And so were we,
Under the eyes of
Angels and technicolour women
Chasing trees.

We parted company
As you spoke
To an artist who
Intrigued you.

But I never left you,
My mind, my spirit,
My eyes with you.

You sought me out
And this time we were
Friends chatting
The night away.

Our dreams,
Our philosophies,
Laid out
Like fine china
On a modern table.

I wanted to kiss you,
I wanted to......
I wanted to hold the second hand still,
But time marched on.

The night grew old,
As many things do,
And I had to go.

With my number
In your hand
I left.

But fate is cruel,
And we never met
Like that again.
Worst of all I never
Got to kiss you.

Do You Remember

Do you remember the day we met?
I was sitting on the edge
Of my own existence,
Waiting to plummet,
To fall away
Into the endless abyss
Of nothingness.

Sweetly,
You spoke to me
Of warm summer nights
With the sky
Filled with endless stars,
Promising me you would name one
After me.

Maria,
My name sounded like a blessing
When you said it.
I would seek you out
Just to hear you say it.
It didn't matter
If you said it quietly
Or loudly,
As long as you said it.

Soon, it was you
Who sat on the edge
Of your own existence.
This time your body
Pushing you over the edge.
I held your hand.
I stroked your cheek
And spoke of countless summer nights
With endless stars
Shining down on us,
As we kissed,
As we loved,
As we were.

After you were gone,
On warm summer nights,
I would take our kids out
And we would look at the stars.
Every time,
We would look for the star
We named after you,
Ramond, mi amor,
The one who lit up my life.

Untitled

Is madness
The only escape
From the norms
That govern our existences.
Alas I speak
Like a fool,
A fool who has
Accepted her madness,
Her idiosyncrasies
And every now and then
Yearns for normalcy.
To live the life
Mapped out by generations before,
That will be followed by generations after.
Yet deep down inside
Creeps a glimmer,
Creeps an imp
That rests on my soul
Like a ball of fire.
That never destroys
But burns
And burns
And burns.
And here, my friends,
Here, my beloveds,
My madness is spawned.

Introduction

Here I go again writing another Introduction, I used to start every new Journal book with a brief introduction. Kinda like in the Sweet Valley Twins books, where they had a few lines describing the twins. Anyway I drift.

My name is Kimolisa Mings, I was born February 13th, 1980 on the island of Antigua. You can say I am a Jackie of all trades, I have a degree in Fashion Design, I work at my father's hardware, partly manage the family's apartments. I also have a small graphic design business on the side and I dable in poetry. Honestly, I think I spread myself thin and I am very much aware of the phrase, "Jack of all trades, master of none." I'm trying to focus on the Fashion Design.

Although my focus will be on Fashion, I need an outlet for my poetry. This is where this blog comes in. It will be a blend of my new stuff and old stuf. If I can get a video or picture of me at poetry readings, I'll put it up. I promise not to throw in my rants, I'll leave that for my daily Journal. I will put up things I find online that I really like.

If people like it, great, share with others. In the end, it's all about getting the work out instead of being hidden away in books and pads in my apartment. Thanks in advance for the support.

Lies

Lies,
All lies,
Heaped up on one another,
Trying to create a truth.
A truth you concieved
In some back alley.
Then turn around
And try to make me adopt it.

I trusted you!
I believed in you!
I stood up for you!
And then you let me fall.
As I fell,
My face was smeared
By the dirt
Of your lies.

It would take time
Before I become clean again.
Every day I would find
Another patch of your filth on me.
Still, I know I shall be clean.

As for you,
You will be burdened
By your lies.
They will bend your back
And contort your face
Into an ugly sneer.

Right now,
I can not promise,
I can only hope
That the fire of my rage
Would become nothing but sparks,
Soon to disappear.
And one day
I would forgive you.

Untitled

One day,
A fair day, indeed,
A butterfly became aware.
Aware of it's wings,
It's now spindly legs,
And the fact that
It lay in an old, crusty cocoon.

With a push
And a wiggle,
It freed itself,
Only to discover
That it was a beautiful creature.
It's wings, a beautiful array of colour.
It's body, so light,
Never to bend a blade of grass.

With great pride,
Up it flew to show the world
What it had to offer.
Up and away from the little boy
Who insisted it belonged to him.
Up and away from the little girl
Who thought something so beautiful must be hers.
Up and away from the scientist
Who thought he had discovered a new species.

Up and into a spiders web.
This network of silver twine,
So fine and delicate
Refused to release the proud butterfly.
As it fought, it called the spider
Who promptly wrapped the butterfly
Into a cocoon and kept it for dinner.

As it lay in the cocoon,
The butterfly did not bemoan it's faith.
It did not think itself too proud,
Nor himself too narcissistic.
It lay in the cocoon
And admired it's softness
Compared to it's last cocoon.
It marveled at it's life,
Relishing the memories
Of sweet nectar
And warm sunshine.

As the spider sat to dine,
The butterfly did not beg, whisper nor cry,
But wished the spider
Bon Appetit and added,
"I hope I taste alright."

The Question of Trust

How would you feel if you assisted an invalid and their caregiver by giving them a house to live in. You went even further and gave the caregiver a job and that individual turns around and steals from you. Not a small amount like $50 or even $100, but give or take between $1,650 and $2,200.

Could you, would you trust that person? To the point that someone tells you about it and you don't believe. Then it turns out that it was the truth. What if that person didn't say anything, would the thief say anything or give back the money.

If it was anyone else, it would have been hell brought to earth. What would you do? To me the trust is gone and I would remove that person from my life.

Yes, we should forgive, but when goes too far, how can you. Trust is broken. How could someone do that, then continues to lie. Life is funny that way.

My B-Day

I've decided on what I'm doing on my birthday. I'm going to the beach to relax, as well as my favourite place in the world, Devil's Bridge. Honestly, there is where my ashes will be shed.

.
I was born the 13th of February 1980, that means, people, my birthday is Friday the 13th, this year. I love that fact. It's also my last birthday in my 20's. I plan on taking serious stock of my life and work out what I'm doing in the future

What the hey, I'll go one step further and be a tourist. I'll make a list of things to do later. They say, there is a place that sells gelato, I will go in search. For the record, gelato is a very rich ice cream originating from Italy. Deliscioso e molto, molto bene.

I have the misfortune or fortune of being born the day before Valentines Day. As my mom is in the retail business, on the family front, my b-day gets a little overshadowed. Plus there is the constant question of "Oh, so you get two gifts or one?" I should answer "Well, when I get one, I'll let you know."

It would be nice though. To get a V-day gift. Nothing elaborate, just a little token of affection would do. I know people think it's a holiday created by the greeting card industry, but it feels nice to know that someone was thinking about you and took the extra step to let you know.

So that is my Birthday wish, to find someone who will give me a V-day gift as well as a B-day gift. Chocolate (good chocolate) is the best way to go.

This Messy Thing

There is this song by India.Arie, it starts with "I am ready for love... I made a cd of the love songs I had on cds and that was the first song on it.

Right now, I question if I am ready for love. Or if I am capable of lof love. Hell, what is love? Do I want it? Do I need it? Can I have both love and a career? If I can't have both, which one should I give up?

I'm confused at an age when I'm suppose to get it. I had a suite-mate who was at the end of a relationship with her boyfriend. She didn't know it, but he knew it. It was messy in my estimation, and she asked me what was going on, why was he not calling her back. It was clear as day and she didn't get it. How do you convince someone that the other person isn't into them anymore. I guess I was mortally afraid of being so blinded by this messy thing call love.

I'm babbling, so I'm going to stop here. If you have any comments on this messy thing called love, post them.

Red Light, Green Light, 123

I love cats, I have one called Charlie Gin. I'm not sure what gender it is though. Anyhoo, I was on YouTube and I saw this video and I actually lol, make that LOL.
Enjoy!!

Untitled

It's Christmas time again.
The sky is that bright blue
That makes you want to sit on the beach,
From day break to sun down.

Unfortunately, I can only feel the warmth
Through the window of my hospital room,
Well, more like my body's hospital room,
And I can only imagine the warmth.

God, I was so pretty,
My skin the colour of sweet caramel,
And always my weave tight.
Now I can barely look at myself.

Tubes and wires everywhere,
Machines pushing, cramming life
Into my body.
I would make it cry, if I could.

It's Christmas
And I only want one thing.
Anything else would be pointless
As I would never enjoy it.

As my mother speaks to my body,
I whisper my wish into her ear.
As my father strokes my hand,
I whisper in his ear.

I could only hope
That they hear me.
As the days tumble into Christmas Day,
I whisper my wish.

Then on the blessed morn,
Of the day that a wonderful life began,
Each member of my family kissed my body
And turned off a machine.

And soon my body had to live for itself,
But it could never do that.
As the darkness engulfed me,
I whispered for the last time.
"Thank you, and I love you all,
Now and Forever."

Bleach Quote

Hi y'all. I am a Bleach fan, not a huge one, but I take delight in watching it and I prefer to watch it in batches. Anyhoo, the last episode I saw had a quote that I loved and I want to share it with y'all.


It was made by Kurotshuchi Mayuri, the captain in charge of scientific research. I could go into it, but I'll leave it to people who are really into it and have the energy to explain the whole bleach saga. For more info on Kurotshuchi, go to http://www.bleachexile.com/information/bleach-captains-guide/kurotshuchi-mayuri/

Enjoy.

The perfect being, was it?

There is no such thing as perfect in this world. That may sound cliche, but
it's the truth. The average person admires perfection and seeks to obtain it.
But, what's the point of achieving perfection? There is none. Nothing. Not
a single thing.

I loathe perfection!

If something is perfect, then there is nothing left. There is no room for
imagination. No place left for a person to gain additional knowledge or
abilities.

Do you know what that means? For scientist such as ourselves, perfection only
brings despair. It is our job to create things more wonderful than anything
before them, but never to obtain perfection. A scientist must be a person who
finds extasy while suffering from that antinomy.

In short, the moment that foolishness left your mouth and reached my ears,
you had already lost.

Of course that's assuming you are a scientist.

Below are some Bleach pics.

Dream For Me

Dream for me
Dream of honey flavoured
Violin strings
That only snap at the end of a song,
Or when it hits a note that
Makes you want to cry.

Dream of rain drops
That taste like peppermint
Tattooing every inch of our bodies,
As we dance
To nothing but
The beats of our hearts.

Dream of the warmth of the sun,
Its lemon drop heat
Warming us as we sit on
The technicolour green grass,
As bugs crawl beneath us.

Dream of chocolate kisses,
Fluttering down your body,
Soft and gentle,
Sweet and delightful.
My kisses,
Your body.

Dream for me.
Dream of you.
Dream of us.
Dream of me.

Bruised Lips

Bruised lips.
I love kissing you,
It comes naturally like breathing.
I don't think,I just be.

Bruised lips.
First we come so close
That we are breathing
Each others' breaths.
Wanting to move forward,
Hoping the other would do it first.

Bruised lips.
Then we connect,
Like those magnetic dolls.
Everytime, I forget
How soft your lips are;
How I like to suck
On your lower lip;
How I like the way
Your tongue plays with mine;
How your strong arms
Hold me tight.
I swear, I would melt
If you didn't hold me tight.

Bruised lips.
Soon we would pull apart,
Not because we wanted to,
Because we needed to
Breathe.

When you've gone
Your way,
And I, mine,
I will leave with
The knowledge
That you love me;
The understanding
That you need me.
With bruised lips.