I like the moment when he says, “You’re free! You’re free!” We’re free to spit our fire of creativity however we want into the universe, so others could freely receive it and interpret it however they want. There’s humorous, thought-provoking creativity in everyday survival—a fly landing on my windshield, seeing a roach at someone’s house, or even an itch on my foot. A few nights ago when I got home, I wrote this:

When having writer’s block meets the sound of your neighbors having sex, a really disturbing itch on your foot, and your hopeless dreams of becoming a sports commentator.

I got an itch.

Little tiny bump.

Right on the inside of my ankle.

My right ankle.

Refraining from using my nails and clawing at it.

The itch is trying to escape.

The coldness of my anemic left foot

Is keeping it in control.

Oh no!

The bump is sweet-talking the anemic left foot!

The anemic left foot is humping the bump!

The anemic left foot is moving faster up and down,

up and down!!

No!!

The anemic left foot has fallen for the itch!

Why!

Now the left hand is loose.

The phone is in the right hand.

The left hand has moved the left anemic foot out the way.

The nails are going in for the itch…

Oh!

The left hand nails the itch from the anemic left foot!

GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!

…and after all that, I still got the itch.

Free Style may not always consist of written words. I may decide to go to an open mic one night. I may create a Free Style in one of my Fade to Black videos. Either—or; the fire of this day is poetry and just going with the waves of my soul.

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Free Style

Flows with the waves of the words like water.

Like the Blue Heron, so still in the distance.

Cast away rigidness of geometry, chemistry, psychology.

The dream is that one day the subject of choice will be Soulsurvivortry.

Pronunciation: Soulsur-viv-or-tree noun.

1. The branch of education that deals with the identification of the substances of life through abstract poetry

and writing, which are broken down;

the investigation of their properties and the ways they interact, combine, and change;

and the use of these processes to form new stronger, wiser, substances of life.

Cast away rigidness of geometry, chemistry, psychology.

2. I have a dream that one day there will be a course that teaches the freedom in creating and studying your own study of.

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Many couldn’t understand why I chose to move; live on my own, near the mountains of NC with no internet in my apartment, no cable, and a phone with horrible service. I never really bothered to explain my reasons, either. It wasn’t about anyone else. It was solely about me wrapping into my own powerful, natural nutrients and philosophical thoughts. My plan was simply to spin myself into a silky cocoon of all the creative discussions and ideas I ingested before entering the process.

Just like the caterpillar, I ate as much as possible. I ate all the food for my visions and dreams. I indulged in the work ethic of women that I grew up with, displaying their natural born talents to the world. I even swallowed the adversity because I knew that the metamorphosis would transform all the negativity into healthy positive enzymes, which would play a great role in building the beautiful colors of my wings.

So there I was, a big plump of goals, getting ready to wrap into the protective casing of my own space; blocking out any form of damage from the world, unsure how long the process was going to take as there is no specific time frame on God’s great works.

To those observing on the outside, it looked like nothing was going on, but big changes were happening on the inside.

The great artistic cells have grown rapidly. They have now become legs, eyes, and wings to my new being.

My wings are opening.

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Hoping this is not some type of typical guy 3-month fad.

Don’t want to do anything to push him away…

Want to make sure I’m there for him to listen to every word he has to say.

Deep down inside, I question whether I should continue on this ride…

And push on through this journey with a confident stride.

I blame it all on my past and the mess I went through the 2 years before last.

The neglect, the abuse, making me feel like my words and thoughts were of no use.

My life was purposeless, value was worthless.

Was his queen in private, but was a stranger in public.

Used for intimacy in private, but was invisible in public.

Caressed and “loved” in private, but yelled at and dissed in public.

Tormented by looks of disgust from rumors he spread,

Walking down the hall hearing all the foul things he said.

Remembering when I went to lie down and found another chick’s underwear in the bed.

Remembering what he said…

Remembering after the blows how I bled.

Remembering the way I laid my head,

So he wouldn’t see me cry.

Knowing every word he said was a bold face lie.

I was too blind to see what this was all doing to me.

Why couldn’t I pull together my little strength and flee?

They say I’m a spitting image of my mother and imitate her like no other.

When things got tough she loved,

When she hurt she loved,

When she fought she still loved.

As for me, in my times I did all of the above.

So I stayed and endured the pain —

Even if that meant sleeping outside on benches in the rain.

I was afraid — cried in closets for days —

Thought of ending my life in so many ways.

I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pretty enough,

Wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t classy enough.

Wasn’t this, wasn’t that — but he did notice one thing…

When I was getting too fat.

So four years have past.

And I no longer have to go through the mess I went through the 2 years before last.

I found the courage to flee

And do whatever I can to be the best I can be

Without changing any part of me.

Can only hope and pray that the NEW HE

Can have patience with me, come to me willingly

And see the best in me.

Walking with me side by side on this journey

Of setting myself free

From the bad memories of the past and bruises of he-Captivity.

…TO BE CONTINUED

…CONTINUED

So beside me is the NEW HE

only to allow it to be

Quite a challenging journey

of HE and ME.

Too blind to see

that I could only be Freeif I allowed myself to be..

So to keep myself sane and maintain, I learn how to cope with a unique pain.

A different pain, a happy get up and go make something of yaself pain.

A why hold ya head to strain-be independent and maintain pain.

An I am here for a reason we all go through seasons pain.

A mistakes are made but our life we cannot trade

so don’t shy in the dark to fade but commit to a personal upgrade pain.

A today I commit to no longer stray from the hand that drew my path

from the foot that made my prints from the eyes that see my future pain.

A right now I humble myself to look back and see that it was not me but HE (My God) that allowed it to be and as His daughter I will obey willingly….pain.

A remember to allow HIM to lead b/c alone with our blinded eyes we

will never succeed no matter how good the deed we will never be free

but…

forever and always we will see and be in love with…

Captivity

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