Cable strings

From my spine to my mind.

Navel cord and time.

Binding me and stringing me

Not blood and sweat but heart felt thoughts.

Him and I

No longer separate but intertwined.

Him and I.

Stitch by stitch

Every inch we’re stitched

Limb, mind, heart and soul.

Together we burn.

Sifting each other, perfecting our cause.

Dust to dust and ashes to ashes. we lay down and get back up.

Inseparable, we’re matches.

Igniting each others flames

Like gasoline on my fire.

We burn slow and steady.

No abrupt combustion but intently set apart concupiscence love.

Tink Tink

Tink tink; I feel dry.

Tink tink; I overflow.

Tink tink; I look up at the sky.

They say eagles are a sign of good luck, but all I saw was a vulture.

Tink tink; does that mean death?

Death to my old ways?

Death to a bitter soul?

Death to my unruly ways?

Tink tink; I’m a well.

Freshly dug, and I keep digging deep.

Tink, tink I’m stubble and stone.

My life’s just begun!

I see new beginnings!

Tink tink; a garden grows.

Tink tink; its harvest time.

Tink tink; my harvest has grown!

Tink tink; I’m beaten upon the floor.

Tink tink; yes I feel pain.

Tink tink; the shaft is gone!

Tink tink; I see the fire!

Its a blazing flame.

I don’t smell flesh, its amazing grace!

Tink tink …the stubble is gone.

Tink tink; I’m firm and strong

Tink tink; I sing a song.

Tink, tink I cry aloud ” I’ve been remade and redeemed.”

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, I give Yah praise!

In Yahushua’s name.

Tink tink: Shalom!

Love on the Brain

What if I never experience matrimonial bliss?

Never entertwine my life with his?

Forget to hand him the key to my soul?

Relent that next man will be better and he’s never sent?

Will I miss the opportunity to quiver and quack?

Be moved to a deep rythythemus low tune.

Can one miss the chance to give someone else the chance?

Not setting the bar so high, they themselves can’t jump over or touch?

I wonder about my life without ever trusting someone so much with my heart.

Knowing that they know all my fragile spots.

I can’t hide or act unfazed when he called me some kind of way.

Who am I that he would trust me this much?

Hold all his insecurities, push past his hateful ways!

Because no one’s perfect and we cant all slay the day.

I dont know, but loves been on my brain. Not keeping me up at night but disturbing my thoughts at work. As I watch others and do my work.

Love is a funny thing.

Highly craved thing.

Detested thing.

Beloved thing.

It can go many ways and sadly we never know.

We all hope love isn’t broken, dead or a foolish fairy tale. And than either we or our parents, friends and associates just picked the wrong one.

We all think to ourselves “I wont.”

An even smaller voice muddles. “I hope I won’t.”

On we go, living and searching for love. Giving and wanting our care to be reciprocated back.

On we go waiting for someone to give us a long anticipated heart attack.

Only in the name of love we pray!

Ardere

My love

My dear

My sweetheart and closes kin

Fine are your ways.

Time overlaps when I’m wrapped in your gaze.

To whom am I speaking?

My friend, my mate, my sweet sweet lover.

I give myself to thee, you need not ask it of me.

I’m yours from birth till death do us part.

In and out of time.

I am no longer I.

You are no longer you, but you are mines and I belong to you.

My dearest, sweet love.

Fire burns in my breast.

Churning my spirit into a tornado spinning around you.

Not just the air in my lungs but the breeze that kisses my cheeks.

The sun that burns my back.

The winter that tells me to find warmth.

You’re multi-seasonal and unconditional tinder love.

Filling me with riddles and tunes.

Telling me of poems and rhymes.

Giving me your hand and asking for my care.

I care, I do.

Telling me to come near, I run to you.

Whispering in my ear, as we cuddle under the sun.

I fear, loving you so much.

But you never stop me from coming near.

Calling me and trailing me to run

I walk and listen to you voice and humm.

I hear are song, it’ll never be done. You sing to me when you smile.

hold my hand or say a prayer.

I confess my love to you like a sinner, I’m undone.

Weak he says I make him.

Strong, I tell him he is.

Please, do not break me?

Ardere is our love.

Diablo….

I saw it suddenly and it scared me. The devils in his eye’s.

I see it clear.

Most think he the devil only dwells in the blue or green eyed men.

But this devil’s taken to my brown eyed man, singing, he sings downtown, calling it the blues.

I see it in his eyes, I hear it in his voice.

He moans and groans, scatting about his choice.

My man with the devil in his eyes, has a delightful voice.

But that’s besides the point.

He called three times, and he came.

“That son of a bitch, went and gave it up!”

The devils in his eyes, and now he’s lost his choice.

Night after night, he howls the devil’s favorite tune’s.

That thing that dwells deep within all of us, he gave his own up.

And now he sings, every night about his deal with the devil.

And people listen from dusk to dawn, to that man singing about the devil in his eyes, and how he stole his soul.

Telling stories, he says the devil whispered in his ear.

Going on about when he called three times, some late, dark night.

Telling people, “I can’t cry.”

“Cause I’m the one that let him in. Ever since that night, I can’t sleep so I stay here and chant the blues.

I see things, no man should ever see.

When I let the devil in, he made himself at home.

Can’t shoo him out, because he’s got, my soul.

My mother cried and begged me to take it back. But I couldn’t tell her, it was a done deed, signed my name, and its a cold hard fact.

Now, I just close my eyes and humm that same ole tune. And think to myself the devils got me beat. I’ll just continue to play the blues. The devil’s tune will never change, I heard it on the night he came. A, C, B, C”….

But it’s just what I heard from this ole girl who loved a brown eyed man, with the devil in his eyes.

Bless My Love

My love, my love, my dearest sweet love.

I pray God blesses you in every way.

Dear, do tell me how soon until you are near?

Near enough for me to hold.

Close enough for me to smell.

Clasping arm around arm. My love, I hope you are well.

May God bless your eyes, so that you may continue to gaze upon me lovingly.

May the Lord bless your ears, so that you may hear my voice.

Bless your feet, so you may walk straight to me.

Most of all bless your lips, that they may meet mine’s. I pray you wont be shy and continue to kiss me and move over to my check, collarbone, breast, stomach and thigh.

Picture from Pexels.com

May he bless your hard-working hands, strong and wide.

My love, my love, my dearest sweet love. God bless your soul, that it may intertwine with mine’s.

All photographs by Pexel.com

Women of the World

I can see the love in your eyes.

I can see the ache of your back and the gentleness you earn as you age upon this earth.

A woman’s worth, above fine jewels and pure gold.

They are high on the totem pole for mistreatment and abuse. There’s no burden like the burden women carry. Men wanting the privilege of beating them on both ends. Either you love me and treat me fair or you’ll have nothing from me and live your life in despair. I do long to have you and to hold, but I won’t dare bare the burden of mistreatment and live my life in fear.

Sadly not all women can make such a speech, and continue breathing air. Torn between the grief of being shunned if they were to leave or face the continuation of abuse. Can’t find their voice, because being a women means living without a choice. “There’s no speaker to amplify my voice. So what’s the point in speaking when I have no crowd to listen, no mic to speak and no speakers to increase my volume to a heart-piercing key.”

Men, how they howl and beg for whats between our legs?

Drool for the care of a woman.

Long for their mothers touch.

I heard a comedian say that if he was a woman he’d never be hungry or poor. We’ve got the sweetest honey, and the dew is always wet. But neither one guarantees your safety. when a lot of men think we ought to stay bent at the knees. Run to him, when he calls. Act pleased when we’re obviously pissed.

women of the world, tread a thin, fine line. As thin as silk, we tread it lightly although we’re shoved upon its course. High above the ground we walk, slowly we learn how to walk. With just enough twist to catch an eye, but not too much or we’ll fall from grace for being too attractive. (to the wrong eyes) Not a hoe, not a virgin. ( some magical place inbetween) Loyal but not foolishly attached. A freak but not a slut or completely to adventuress for things considered taboo. Smart but not challenging. Friendly but not overly nice. Can take a joke, Although we don’t find it funny.

With all of those demands to think some men still want to beat your ass. Verbally abuse you, confine and genocidally confuse you. Confine you to a small space in life. As if your happiness will bring his dimise

Women of the world, I see you. The love you give and the hate that you suppress. I see you, ten thousand miles away. Men call this place heaven on earth, but sometimes its a hellish gruesome place if your born a woman. Sprinkled all throughout time, women have been unfortunate to the least. Have their own children grow up and mistreat them all because they are male and she’s a feminine soul.

Women of the world I see you, you’re worth more than pure gold, rubies, onyx, black opal, RED DIAMONDS, yellow, blue and white. Purls, ten thousand camels, sheep’s, forty hard stripes. When a man finds a wife, he finds a good thing beyond value. So women of this world I see you.

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Psychology

Not my first love but my dearest second. Psychology is a passage into one of many hidden dimensions in life. We can either apply it like simpletons or become resourceful, delving into the intricate web of the human psyche. Divulging our hidden, repulsive, delightful and purest selves. Destroying and concocting the world as we know it into either what it is or what we want it to be.

Psychology is enlightening continuously, on how sensitive the human mind and actions are to influence. Influence can be found and hidden in many ways and things. Sounds, actions, pictures, while awake and asleep.

Exploring all areas of the human being. Bringing rationality to what we once preached to be symptoms of insanity. The concept of something manipulating our behavior other than ourselves; controlling our actions. Messages are being sent and received.

To summarize, my love for psychology is founded on the ideology of controlling and being controlled. Most fear and reject this discovery. But I don’t, I embrace it and acknowledge it as an aspect of life. But can I counter-attack? Re-persuade my sub-conscious into what I deem upright, knowledgeable and suitable behavior. It is the year 2019, I am a product of my surroundings and a victim of knowledge. Studies of the human mind and its functions, beloved behavior manipulation, social learning, cognitive and cultural dissonance. It is a fact that someone or people are is guiding our world beliefs, religious infatuations, sexual norms, racial identification, social justice and even our definitions of freedom. Entitlement, allotment or earned through battle?

Developmental psychology, Social and personality, Biological. My highest interest lies in perception and behavioral psychology, Cognition & cognitive neuroscience. Freud, Skinner, Carl Jung, John B. Watson, Alfred Binet and many more. Psychology is not summarizable as “why the world is round?” A better description would be why do you believe the world is round, whom or who told you so? Why do you perceive it as true? Why don’t you question the world being round? Why did you take so long to consider thinking of the possibility of misinformation of the world being round? And who and what is suppressing or manipulating your thinking? And if we find out we have been misguided, why do we give the dictator or facts the benefit of the doubt and say it was an un-intentional misguidance. Why can’t we aknowlegde that the world is cruel in every way in the year 2019 just as it was three thousand years ago. No one is handing over information and if they are, you and I should be cautious of free information.

This is what psychology means to me, I do believe others summarize and prioritize different aspects. But this is similar to salvation for the mind, we all get touched by a different preaching sermon and style. My dearest Second love, Psychology.

Without Him

I love him like I’ve never, ever loved somebody. Warmest embrace I’ve ever lived to know. I’m not easily moved, nor emotionally inclined.

Still, sometimes we fight.

But never in synch, it’s funny how we click with a hint of disagreement. I call him and he refuses to enter my presence. Leaving me filled with feelings of momentary rejection. Him telling me he can’t interupt me at my job, I don’t need to see him that bad.

Lulling me and telling me to just wait. “Yaselynn be strong, Girl its hasn’t even been five maybe six hours since we parted ways.”

Yet I throw a fit.

Either I ingnore him and he’s wondering why. Then it flips and I start crying and begging for his return. Because as I’ve said he’s got the sweetest embrace; that I’ve had the privilage to swaddle up to at night.

I love him. No one else can compare or tale his place.

My mother got knocked out, My father he lost the race too.

I love him, I could sing his name all day. It’s the best toon.

He’s cool and we all know I’m cute so togther we’re fly.

But I can’t lie, theres times I want to choke him and watch him die.

Ending in a hot persute, beacuse I would die of heartache and grief. All before we could decide on a picture for his obituary.

I love this man so deep.

Now back to the part about when we fight.

When we go at it, its because I ignored his calls the night before. He leaves me tons of messages and missed (Ignored calls). And at that moment I swear he’s pathetic. Thinking, “Bruh leave me alone, I swear I can go a few days without contact.”

Conclusion, I’m a bit foolish.

To tell the honest to goodness truth, the longest I’ve gone is quite sad. I’ve ignored his calls, texts, and pop up, its a surprise visit at my job. “Why you didn’t answer me?”

Mmm, not even a full 24 hours. Because, without him, I just get all sad. When I sprint for my annual emancipation streak.

I crash and go through all five stages of grief.

1.Denial

2.Anger

3.Bargaining

4. Depression

5.Acceptance

I love this man. He doesn’t even have to kiss me to make me feel this way. Just his presence is a reassurance of our bond. I love him deep, deep, so deep. It comes from a different part of me.

Soon, its really soon.

I’ll love him fully and embrace him every day. Even on the days, I want to forget he exists.

My eyes look sunken in and all my coworkers whisper and try to be nice. To tell me I look tired. I try to muster a smile and say its because I’ve been thinking of him. Trying to remember why my book, tv show, TEDx video, stretching and even bathing was more important than him.

I love him and I thank God this man is faithful to me. Even though sometimes he ignores me, but that’s usually in response to me pissing him off five maybe even six times before. He knows how much I need him. I love him and he’s my good night sleep.

I love him.

Sincerely,

Dear sleep. 🙂

An Amaranthine Love

A loud thunderstorm and a soft translucent rain.

Comparable to good loving.

A deep warm hug.

A tender kiss

A delicious meal.

Soft rain stirs my soul deeply into ustulation.

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Washing away my continuous growth of nemesism; from past and present days.

I feel like rain is a sign from God that we need to mindfully redintegrate our souls.

In one sentence the rain dirls my heart, mind, and soul.

I wonder if anyone else feels this way about the rain.

Please tell me you do?

That you experience theses ineffable feelings when the sky cries.

Either 1,2, 3, or 4 moods bewitch me.

  1. A deep euphoric sleep.
  2. Rapturous energy serges; fixing all melancholy in my eyes before the thunderstorm. Reminding me that my time is short and to be happy I have breath in my lungs. No matter my frustrations the rain renews my joy. It signals an unspoken promise that’s etched across my heart. ( Have joy in the midst of this worlds sorrow!)
  3. Equanimity; a yearning to stop all things and meditate.

Seek out calmness. Composure, of breath and watch the rain fall down my windows as I drive. Upon my skin, starting with the palms of my hands. Praying to be cleansed, as I reach out and over my porch.

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4. A deep mourning. I cry for No other reason than to let out emotions sometimes. Can’t pinpoint it to anger or frustration. The rain just calls me to cry and both sing sometimes. I don’t know if I’m crying for lost souls or for my soon to come frustration once the rain stops. But I can say it’s from the heart, slow and one by one. As if the result of each and every thought I hold dear.

Hopefully, it’s not just me, although me and rain we go way back.

We will always share our amaranthine Love.

Even in death, I’ll welcome it to my corpse.

Fall on my grave top, seep and penetrate my tomb.

Oh, how I love rain.

And he loves me too.

Diligently and sweet…

Through heartache and grief…

Rain sweeps me off of my feet.

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