His Feelings

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It was over
And he was still
On top of me.

The moaning
And grunting
Was over.

He laid perfectly still
As his dick deflated
In me.

He rolled over,
Pulled the condom off
And threw it in to the dustbin.

I went to the bathroom.
I wanted to wash off
His sweat.
I wanted to wash off
My dissatisfaction.

Then what?
I didn't want to stay.
I wanted to return
To my warm bed,
Inhale the sweet vanilla scent
That permeated my room,
But I didn't want to hurt
His feelings.

Then again,
Did I really care about
His feelings?
Did he care about mine?
I don't think he did.

I rinsed off the suds,
Dried off
And put on my clothes
Then went back into the room.

Apart from snoring
Up a storm,
He looked like a
Happy child,
Someone's baby,
Just not mine.

I scribbled a quick note.
A quick lie,
And left it on the pillow
Where my head
Would have been.

I was going to hurt
His feelings.
I was not going to answer
His calls.
I was going to disappear from
His life.

He would be confused.
He would wonder
What went wrong,
But I could never
Bring myself to tell him
Why.

I couldn't tell him
That I felt nothing
For him.

I couldn't tell him
That he didn't
Stimulate me,
Mind,
Body,
And soul.

I couldn't tell him
That he was
A lousy lay.

So I hurt
His feelings.

The Journey

Nami
Howled into
The night.

As the sandman
Wrapped his arms
Around her,
Resting her head
On his lap,
Shame kissed her cheeks.

She didn't plan
To touch the button,
To stroke it
To press it
Till all engines
Were on full blast.

A journey
To the edge of the universe,
Solo.

A journey
Pasts stars
That blinded.
Experiencing explosions
That left her numb
And shivering
As she floated
Down to Earth.

And yet,
She wanted to take
This journey.
She needed to take
This journey.
Nami's journey
To the edge of the universe.
To O.

I Don't Plan

weheartit
"I don't plan
To fall in love,"
Nicholas said,
As sweat
Slicked down his chest,
Forming a puddle
In his belly button.

I didn't plan
To fall in love either.
He wasn't my type,
He was arrogant,
Narcissistic,
Confusing,
Nicholas.

The only reason
I was here,
Straddling him
Like a prized pony,
Was because
He knew how to
Make love.

He knew
Every inch of my body
He knew
How to give me
Pleasure.
He knew how
To reach into
My inner core
And initiate
The meltdown procedure.

And yet,
I never gave
Him my O,
Instead I gave him
A pleasure
That had him calling
Late at night,
Early in the morning.

We don't love
Each other.
We won't call
Each other
When a parent dies
For a shoulder
To lean on.

We lust
Each other.
And as we dress,
I promise myself
That I would not
See Nicholas again.

As we kiss,
That electric kiss,
I know this will be
The last time
I see Nicholas.

Lust is fun,
But love is forever.

Have You Ever

Have you ever
Seen the beginning
And the end of the universe
At the same time?

Have you ever
Been electricuted
Till you body vibrates
Long after the power has been cut?

Have you ever
Lost the power of speech,
Of thought,
As though your reptile brain
Took over and
Your canary has more sense
Than you?

If you never
Experience any of these things,
Take off all your clothes,
Let go of all your inhibitions,
Give me all your trust
And I will take you there.

My O

Does my orgasm matter?
That elusive creature
That resides in the core
Of my being,
That strips me
Of all decency
And leaves me spent
Like a once
Live round.

Do you even care
As you jockey
To position,
Riding like
You are at
The Kentucky Derby
Trying to get
To the finish line.
Your finish line.
I'm sure
You don't even know
My finish line exists.

Do you even know
What my orgasm
Sounds like,
Looks like,
Feels like?
Do you even
Want to know?

Truth be told
I don't care enough
About you
To put up
With you lack of skills,
With your obvious selfishness.

I don't think
I could like a lifetime
Of never hitting that high note.
Of never seeing the edge of the universe,
Of never experiencing
A shared orgasm.

The kind of orgasm
That has us clinging
On to each other
Like it's us
Against the world.

The kind of orgasm
That strips us of
All our masks
And reveals us to ourselves.
Revealing that vunerable part
That no one,
Not even our mommas,
Ever see.

I did care for you
At one point,
But I care
For my orgasm even more.

When A Woman Moans

Unfortunately, I will be off island when this event takes place but it doesn't hurt to promote it to the people who follow me on this blog and my friends on FaceBook. The name of the event is When A Woman Moans and it is put on by the same ladies who put on Expressions At The Pub, August Rush Productions. Below is the description of the event.

The women who brought you two years of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues, are excited, thrilled and proud to bring you our OWN stories. When A Woman Moans is written by women living in Antigua about the women living in Antigua, and those who lost their lives to violence here in Antigua.

Come and laugh, remember, celebrate, slap a knee and get on bad, and feel free to shed a tear or two.

It is our hope that when you leave the show that night, you'll have greater appreciation for the women in your life, or yourself (if you are a woman reading this); and that you will find a way to make a stand against violence against women in Antigua and Barbuda.

There is a show on Friday, May 28, 2010 at 8:00pm and the next show is Saturday, May 29, 2010 at 8:00pm.

As I mentioned before I won't be there, but the topic has inspired to write a few pieces on the topic and I will be posting it as soon as I can. It all depends if I get near a computer to type out something. Let me also sat this time that some pieces may be a bit raw and if you are under 18 or are easily offended, I apologize in advance.

He Don't Like You

He don’t like you.
Rufus said this
Like he was telling me
The time of day.

It’s not like
I care if he liked
Me or not,
It was the reason
For the dislike
That concerned me.

It’s not like
I called him stinky head
To his face
Or otherwise.

Nor did I laugh
Uncontrollably
When he wet his pants
After he rode the Ferris wheel
When the fair was in town.

In fact,
I kind of liked him
In that platonic way
Girls liked boys.
Was there any other way
To like boys?

So here I sit
In Ms. Smith’s class
Next to Rufus,
My best friend,
Trying to figure out
Why Pete Andrew dislikes me.
More drama in
The Life of
A seven year old.

As A Survivor

I sat on the sand
As the water
Reached out to the land.
It could only go so far
Before it was pulled away,
Clawing the sand
Around my legs
As it receded.

My eyes,
Transfixed by the horizon
As though they saw beyond
The rigid line.
Seeing farther
Than my body ever ventured.

I was thinking
Of the future.
The near future
When I won't be able
To visit the beach
The chemo rendering me too weak.

I was thinking
Of the sad faces
When I tell my co-workers,
My friends,
My family,
My husband.

I was thinking
Of all the things
I've done,
All the things
I should have done.
I should have gone out
With that Italian guy.
Too late.

As my life
Tumbled out
In front of me,
I realised that I lived
A remarkable life.
I realised that I was
A remarkable woman
And this was not
The way I should die.

As I sat
Watching the end of my world,
I decided
To fight,
To fight as though
My life depended on it.

I stood up,
My backbone
A bit straighter.
I walked,
My stride with purpose.

I was waling into
My new life
As a winner,
As a Survivor.

What I Want

Sometimes
I don't want
To wake up,
Instead,
I would rather
Curl up
Under my covers
And drift
Into another world.

Sometimes
I don't want
To go outside,
Just remain
Indoors
And create
A world
Filled with
Fairylights and chocolate,

Most times
I have to
Pull myself
Out of bed
And scrub
Dreams and cobwebs
Off my skin.

Most times
I have to
Face the brutal world
With demanding
Phone calls
And stress filled hours.

Most times
I don't get
What I want.

Death To Worms

Sitting under a mango tree,
I watched maggots devour
A mango.
Squirming, crawling
In and out,
A sight enough
To turn my stomach.

From my pocket,
I pull
My magnifying glass
And on the maggots,
I aim the magnified light,
Their squirming and crawling increase
And they begin their silent cry.

Their short, stout bodies
Twist and squirm,
Their flesh,
Like plastic,
Melts under my wish
To see them die,
Till they move no more.

I get up
From under the mango tree,
Dust myself off,
Stick my magnifying glass
In my back pocket
And head home.

I truly hate worms.

To those who may take offence to the death of God's creatures, I apologize but feel comforted that no worms were killed in the making of this poem. Then again the last statement holds true.

A New Dream

I was searching
In the depths
Of my being
For something I recognised.

Something that
Held a dream
So precious
That I coveted it.

Withoug knowing that
I coveted it.
Not knowing
How important it was
To my existence.

Then I found it
Tucked away
Between my reality and
My heart's desire
Like a child
At midnight.

At first,
I was afraid
To disturb it,
To wake it
From it's fitful slumber,
But the time to
Face all fears
Was now.

I claimed my dream.
I reared it
As though it was
My child.
I nurtured it.
I provided for it.
I protected it.

And when it grew
Too big
For me to hold
Any longer,
I set it free
And went in search
Of a new dream.

"I"

By Ivar Ditlef-Nielsen
From the book Selected Poems (Poelosophy)

I am the only I.
What I hear, feel and see
Is my world, it is me.
All the other,
The YOU’s, the THEYs,
The HEs and the Shes
Don’t know what it means
To be me.
I am the only I.

I am the only I
With conscience
And will to act
And choose on my own,
And stand alone.
I am free
In a beautiful world
Of my own
Which nobody can see
Like me.

I am the only I,
An unsolved mystery,
An oasis in an abundant
Sea of life.
Unique and alone with
Millions of other Is.
But I never want
To be another I
It is my I till I die.

Alas, the other:
The YOUs, the THEYs,
The HEs and the SHEs
Losing there is
In compromise and expediency
Won’t let me be.
They want me to forget my I
And become part of the whole
“Conform. Do like us”,
So I am told.

Am I losing my I?
Will it be there when I die?
Wo;; O become like
The YOUs, the THEYs
The HEs and the SHEs
With no I-dentity
And no I to survive?

I think I got the book when I was at ASC (Antigua State College). I loved this poem so much that I read it over and over. Then one day I read the other poems and I fell in love with them. The book itself inspires me to put together my own book of poetry because it is so simply made.

I also like the concept of making something that would be coveted by someone else. Be it a cool T-shirt or a poem that inspires.