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Class Queen—My Heart’s Reflection! 

a poem by Joseph Spence

It has been a long time since,

she was fine—flourishing!

She always seemed so

naturally desiring, nourishing,

My mind going lispingly loco,

she was like bubbling hot mocha

Such an awesome creation

made of fine ebony cocoa,

Imagination going wild

I bet she could have had the spoil

No doubt I would have been

captured with her winning style.

 

She was like the cool soft touch

of autumn’s evening breeze

Passing me just mesmerizingly

tickling my cheeks,

Hair starting to grow on the back

of my neck clinging to static

Transformation of her electric

tranquility illuminates like magic,

Feet felt like walking

on thin air of invisible clouds

My heart could not whisper

and started shouting out loud

—“Hello!”

 

Uncontrollable urges

wildly fighting my spirit

Battle within to win like a

fighting marine of great merits,

An about face I had to make

because she was my taste

Not lost in time and space

she was like Susie Q from the waist,

I was not a French Foreign Legion

soldier lost in the desert

Absolutely not a mirage before me,

passing me

—removing my shirt!

 

Soaking in the tan from the resonating heat

just drenched on my feet

She was so neat,

complete, looked so sweet,

creation could not repeat,

The street turned to pastures,

picnic baskets, butterflies, fragrance

Switching to white sandy beaches,

blankets, and building sand castles,

Voice weak,

I squeaked a peep,

she turned, my world stood still

Mind floating as if I had taken a pill,

like a flash

—Help me, I felt a chill!

 

She smiled,

lips parted,

tongue moved, I had a notion

Still turning, her hair moving slowly,

like a karate kick in slow motion,

Eyes blinking, I could not move,

“Yes I remember,”

she whispered

Her memory better than mine,

“How are you?”

My bread was buttered,

It has been years since,

queen of the prom,

homecoming queen,

My ship has landed,

“Coffee at noon?”

My heart whispered

—“Yes!”

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VIBED OUT: ELI $TONES

 

 

Q: How do you describe your music?

 
A: This is a really hard question to answer because I still feel like I haven’t found out who I really am yet as an artist. I just dropped this song called “Hell Of A Guy” and I’ve had a few people tell me “Yo, Eli! This is your sound, bro! Stick with this!” But I don’t like to stick to one sound because not only do I feel like people get bored hella’ fast, it also makes me feel uncomfortable; as if I’m not able to express my full ability. At the same time, I want to try to appeal to as many crowds/tastes in music as I possibly can. But to answer the question for right now I guess I would describe my music as versatile since I’m always switching it up and trying new sounds.
 
Q: What makes you stand out from the other artists in the game right now?
 
A: I think what makes me stand out from other artists right now, especially in my city, is the fact that I’m not afraid to make myself vulnerable. I have a few songs where I boast, just like every other rapper, but I also have a good collection where I talk about how small I feel sometimes as an artist/person.
 
Q: What is the hardest thing that you have faced in you music career?
 
A: Some people might not understand this and might think I sound crazy, but I think the hardest thing for me about being a rapper is being primarily white in a primarily black industry. I feel like people don’t take me seriously enough or underestimate me as an artist sometimes because of my race. But hey, if Logic can make it then why can’t I? I ain’t letting all that bullshit hold me back. I feel like at the end of the day my creativity overcomes all that; fuck a hater! 
 

Continue reading VIBED OUT: ELI $TONES

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The Ballad of the Lemon

The ballad of the lemon

 

(Small poem on chromatic prohibitions)

 

(Yellow sun-blinding yellow-yellow yellow)

If you eat lemons will not have your period

If you eat lemons you will not have satisfactions

If you brush your hair while you have “those” things

You block them for sure

(Yellow-green-yellow-yellow acid)

Continue reading The Ballad of the Lemon

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Plump Orange With Undertones Of Apple

I come in and drop my bags. We arrived. 2 cats and our little lady for a month long excursion in the city. Neither of us is really seeking to complete this, however, it has to be done. I come with low expectations-as lowering my expectations was a strategy I used to sustain what is left of a 20-year long relationship. Lower and lower expectations went to find a level which was feasible to hold a semblance of balance.

I find myself tidying up the place while the baby is out my teen- our teen, actually, but mostly “my” day to day teen over the last 17 years. My day to day baby-as in the youngest vs immature- day to day youngest child.

I pick up clothing spilling out of bags and luggage. I place dirty dishes in the sink in prep for the dishwasher. I toss a load into the washing machine-set boneless chicken in the fridge to defrost for dinner. Log onto my computer to work from home; I cannot help but to bring my multi tasking habits with me. I sure meant to, however, I know an argument will ensue if I do not appear to be above the high expectations still expected of me as a mom, a partner, a house guest. An Apple living in an Oranges home for the next 4 weeks.

Sitting underneath the lamp at a side table located adjacent to the 50” screen flat screen is a book I have used a resource to building healthy relationships, “5 Love Languages”. Quizzically, I review the book -is it real? I am considering this because my partner clearly is missing the point of the book to know one’s own love language in an effort to leverage that strength-that language- to actively engage in a meaningful manner with your partner.

Receiving gifts

Acts of service

Physical touch

Quality time

Words of affirmation

My #1 is Quality Time and #5 is Receiving Gifts. The exact opposite of my partner; per the book this combination is the hardest because the 2 people need to travel the farthest to get to a place of balance.

My possession of this knowledge has permitted me to give a pragmatic method to build strategies to have a semi-viable relationship.

Naïve at the time.

The book is not meant to be read alone; the challenges do not go away if only one person is the sole owner of the premise behind the 5 love languages.

My partnership has taken me to the point of desiccation where I have limited trust or reliability in this person. Where I now see this person and expect so little of him that a sur name and this last baby is what we share.

I have often thought that Gary Chapman needs to write a book titled, ‘Now that you are mature enough to be in a relationship- and have broken it-what can you do to get to center.’ Or a book called, ‘Were you ever at a center?’,  because I suspect that is where I am at now; a desiccated Apple partnered with a plump Orange w/ hints of Apple undertones.

 

 

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Artist Jennifer Shepit

Artist Jennifer Shepit resides in Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada where she constructs other galaxies with her bare hands, a bit of paint, and universes of imagination, so much so that I found myself sending poetry over to her to request her visual representation of my work. When I laid eyes on this piece of art, I love it so much that I am not even sharing a photo of it in this post as it is the part of a larger project that I cannot wait to reveal. I will say that it is more beautiful in person than it was in the image that she sent me upon completion, and I am stingily am holding onto the painting only parceling out glimpses to others as though it is a secret lover.

 

Please go view and purchase some of her work. You can view her page at Instagram at @jennifershepit and click here for her Etsy.

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Ghar ke Kaam

in between washing the dishes
Ammi yells at me
curses her life
all I did was accidentally leave the
glass by the tv
I roll my eyes and lock myself in the bathroom
until she’s done the cooking in the kitchen
I come back outside
and plug my brain into the tv
so she can’t throw more side comments my way
Her anger is for me not becoming the person she wished I be
My anger is for her never defending me
but we push it down
we swallow it, chug it down like a bottle of whiskey
let the damage be done inside
all we notice is the burning madness
showing in our swollen eyes
from crying all night
from betrayal

 

Photography Credit: Chip Johnston