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I wanted to do something entirely different from my other blogs and that is doing what I love and do best! Poetry! So to all my readers, I hope you enjoy this poem entittled Listen to my Heart.

Listen to my heart as I try to give you pieces of me one at a time

That you will allow me to spread my wings and scatter my love upon your mind and spritual growth

To love in due time when I’m ready for that sprarkling creations of sensual sensations

But most importantly I want you to listen to my thoughts…

All of it as it brings you deep mind regulations of my signals from my heart

Listen to my heart as it tells you that I am there for you in the darkest hour

To nurture and calm your soul when the last tear drop falls

I’m not like the other women who plays the games

Women you have had that has put your life to shame

But open up to me  and let me prove to you that I’m not the same

The woman that has hurt you spritually and emotionally that you don’t know how to love again

But I will teach you how to love the real woman that I am

But first you must Listen to my Heart

Feel it flutter as I get nervous to tell you that I truly love you hoping that you will say it back in due time

Sit down and hear my silent thoughts as it shines upon your heart

Written with my magic that only you can cast

Listen to the reasons that my presence holds a deep place upon ur wrath

To handle you at your weakest; the true King that you really are

I want to know that everything is okay when I express how I feel after a warm caressing bath of happiness that tickles me whole

Your words speaks enough as the moonlight smiles in the thought off our love arrays; ironed out to a perfection that only two lovers will ever understand

I won’t let you down and the love will make will make up for the arguements that almost ruined a great thang

But I’m still here and I still want you to listen to my heart over and over again until it reoccurs in your sleep

In your mind

In your soul

Listen to the words I paint on my love canvas

A bond that can’t be broken

But a love so mere can have our souls wrapped around promises that will take us to a place called Neverland

Listen to the ways I tell you I love you, I need you and I want you…all of you with no regrets

To be repaired of your love with comfort that with soothe my harmones

Speak that love language to me

Mi armor mucho

Take our love to a whole new level where possibilities and dreams never sleep

I don’t want to sleep when our love is awaken and real

But most importantly

Listen to my heart

Written by Patrice “Lyrical Passion” Rivers 2013

I, nature, am easy going and pretty much what you see is what you get. I’m known to speak my mind and I expect those around me to do the same. I’m not going to always agree with my friends and I know they won’t  always agree with me. However, if we have a problem I fully expect us to talk about it. So when I realized one of my friends had been avoiding me and not speaking to me I asked why. The response I got was an eye roll and a shrug of the shoulders. I smiled and kept it moving because in that moment I realized that she and I were on different courses. I’m okay with that. My life has gone on, but apparently she has let me rent space in her head. That is why I wrote the following piece.

RENTING SPACE

And is it the pain of not finding peace, solutions to problems of living life at a standard you can stand, being with yourself or being 2% of Romney’s 47%, labeled unemployed and collecting unemployment? Non-productive you say, but all your life you’ve worked hard, played hard enough to appreciate ballers in this camp. Although, your presence with them was short lived. You’ve written about the façade of their hearts and dreamed of their wealth sleeplessly. Now, you’re sleeping on your skills, studying your words instead of God’s and sending yourself on a quest to beg some laureate for validation (an action you’ve considered as a form of S&M). Yet, you feel you need someone with literary creds, some university professor, Pulitzer prize or any literary award winner to tell you what you want to hear.  Looking for them to make your hair grow on the back end of your thoughts and e-turning the pages of your life.  You’re convinced it will take a renowned author to carry your work to a preverbal throne that won’t flush.  Can’t flush away any of your ideas or written works you’ve bled onto your iPad, the only sanitary napkin that can hold your soul’s blood stains and shared on other napkins. You wipe away the baited breath from your mouth, trying to hide thoughts of it being over, the end of crying out to validate what you’ve done, but its done, it’s out there. You’ve prostrated before all to see, naked in your right mind.  And now the search is over, too tired of being scared to hear you’re good enough. So you bleed on a street corner. You tell your stories and sell shit out of a trunk, because you know and believe every now and then, the blood will clot. You’ve come to an understanding that your muse is your faith. You can do this! You’re good, even great and not because your words have walked up and down harlem Streets, serengeti Plains in montclair, ave A, or a voice originating out of the boogie Down, but because someone and someone else and another somebody listened and Sally Field-ed you. So you write the book with performance pieces; you write like a motherfucker! And no other can do what you do.  As long as you’re still unsatisfied, just to keep from going crazy like Maxwell, you wanna throw a fist full of tears but they be tears of joy.  Cause with or without the critics, the prizes or recognition, you can write! And someone, somewhere and some more somebodies will feel like you can make it reign.

(Note: caps left out of locations—part of my signature)

Flowrite

In just listening and being around people I’ve noticed a couple of things. Some people want help, but aren’t willing to help themselves and some people will keep striving for success no matter what obstacles they encounter. These two thoughts were the reasons behind this piece of poetry.

Shit Just Got Real Pt.II 

You constantly cry that you’re being abused
Scared to go home because of the verbal and
physical punches
Mentally and physically drained you ask for help
Plans are made for your escape from pain and
entrance to a new freedom
Everything and everyone is in place to help
you survive
Waiting and waiting you never show
Finally you call saying you’re staying
Disbelief surrounds your would be freedom
fighters
Shaking their heads they disperse
Battered and bruised you again ask
for help
Incredulous stares are aimed at you
They answer no because they can’t help you
until you’re willing to help yourself be free
Shit just got real

Looking around you see your own striving
to succeed
Jokes and disparaging comments spew
from your mouth
Everyday you block the path to greener
pastures
And everyday they find a way around your
blockade
You and your crew thinking intimidation
will keep them down
Yet they and their dreams use your weapons
to spur them on
They’re supposed to succumb to your taunts
and aggressions and you wonder why you fail
The question is asked
Why do you keep trying
The answer is given
We honor our destiny and not your fears
Shit just got real

Fiercely approaching were the storms of Life,

Lives being consumed therein,

Destinies being cut short,

Wailing in every corner of the tunnel,

In the middle of this, I decided never to give up

Until I get to the end of the tunnel

To behold the light at its end.

As i ran along in the tunnel,

With the fear of being consumed by the approaching storm raging within,

I heard thousands of voices crying out to me to give up the run,

For I could never beat the approaching storm,

Seeing the young and the old crying out; I decided to succumb

And give in…….

Just as the storm was getting nearer,

I heard a voice from within saying,

‘There is a light at the end of the tunnel’

Wearily, sluggishly& hopelessly I continued

standing against odds, battling the mind and struggling with indecision,

Unconsciously, I stumbled;

How painful it was,

Tears rolling out of my dejectedly rejected eyes

And blood from my heart…….

Again I decided to give up but the voice said to me,

‘There is a light at the end of the tunnel’

In pain I arose, putting aside all had been through,

Renewing my hopes of finding the light,

Strengthening myself with high hopes of being nearer to the Light,

Taking few steps further,

I realized a sudden clarity in the path before me,

I could see clearly the path to greatness,

I could feel the nearness of fulfillment,

All I could see were RAYS

But still could not find the light………………

I said to myself,

Come rain, come sun; I won’t give up the search

For i have realized that every step I take brings me closer to my destination,

THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

by:FATOLA AYODEJI OLUWATOBI