superRESPONSIBILITY

so i am at cross road
how do i swallow what i know and call myself woman?

how do i look someone in the eye and say i love them, all the while
holding their happiness in a shit covered bag, that only the world
can smell.

bad analogy, maybe?

but i know this. this year is going to be bigger than the cheaters and the beaters and the womanizers and the liars and the haters and haters and the haters.

i will find a way.

i will find my way.

i will find you when i get there.

denver, the new year and other things - in fragments

i am live in denver.
the show last nite was cool, however, my lost baggage and long time holiday/jet lag sag had set in , so i was incredibly happy that it went as well as it did.

the show was satuarated with poets from NYC, surprisingly, that didn't cut the room's energy.

did i tell you they lost my luggage? yup. so its official, i hate delta airlines.

and amari is in southern cali living it up with cousins and i miss her more than ever these days.

and it was good to see him.

even though they lost my baggage.

talking is always good for the heart. it felt like awhile since we caught up. even if it was just since the earlier phone call, or the emails.

so im thinking of my resolutions.

life with family was easy this time around. my lil cousin is ready to burst with another baby. my cousin just had her 5th child. jessica here in denver is due in 6 days. and bassey and elai keep me smiling.

all this baby fever got me wondering, what the hell was in the water.

24 hours to live

what would you do?

for the man that had a wife (WIP)

for the man that had a wife (WIP)
i cannot speak with uncertainty

i wanted you when

i found the dirty in me, while crawling around your hidden spaces

i thought: she is wonderous

how you learn to love the soot and brush aside one's beauty?

i wish i could find the courage to stop hating life

long enough to roll around the grassy bloom of self

but i continue to buy gifts of admiration for men,

hoping i could find a him like he



but the sunrise is never promised

when a moonstruck gypsy turns lovesick



my type never ran for school office

no popularity contest held my name on ballots

i am a figment of your idea of what a vixen could be

so hate me more,

i am all the things that you despise

hate me like, the moment you looked in his eyes

and caught my reflection

though he will never leave you for me

i'm the type he keeps hidden on knees beneath your portrait

lovely woman who i always wanted to be

accept too my smeared reflection

i want you to love me like you love he

if only to say, "I know you're hurting"

find the beauty in the swollen knuckles and scarred knees



i will respond with the same envious stare

the blinks of green remain presently stale

i've grown tired of watching your lovely

how he flees to rest in your arms

and leave me here

slapping wind with a shattered heart,

wrapping a scarf of lies around my throat

matching it with earrings of distrust

these boots were made for ego crumbling,



and i only know how to wear the ugly

Want some?

Sheroshima meets the Bootlegger! that's right! all you need is paypal and you can snatch Sheroshima tracks NOW!!!

fam moments

i missed my fam. black, vic, jermaine, murph, mark, dashaun, greg, kovas, and all the arms of love that come attached: sara, j, tanyoka - i love them all. the brunch, the laughter, the life sharing was wonderous.

i never realized how complete it made me feel.

amari

made student of the month...

how proud am i?

losing touch

i have about 10 minutes to write.
a couple of days ago i missed my studio session, because i just couldnt pull it together.
even know. i dont know what i should be doing, but i know i havent written - even if just
to feel my fingers tapping against the keyboard for days.

i have answered emails, set up meetings, completed lesson plans, taught classes, run lines, ordered dinner, scoured myspace but no writing. my last attempt was the ending of the week
for that recoloration project. it didnt hit me. the picture that is.

i felt so desensitized that i didnt know what the hell was wrong with me. i miss talking to friends
without having to wonder what next. or am i sharing too much. or am i not sharing enough. my friend's father is dying. and my heart bleeds for him. i know how he cares for his father, but he's the type that wont show any signs of pain until he's brimming over.

i know, and im sorry. that feeling is never easy. how do you console pre-death? the fact that it really isn't ok. and someone is going to leave you. the person that you've had in your life since you knew you had a life - is now passing. how do you tell someone, it's ok.

i dont think you can. i know i can't. when my grandmother passed. all i wanted was to be held. i would break into tears any given moment and it hurt so bad i thought i would lose my breath. but it lessens, the vice grip on your chest. and though when i think of Coco, now. im sad that she isnt here to see amari be Dorothy in her school play, or me running a business without going bankrupt (just yet) or my sister getting married. or my mother finally clean. i know she is watching. i feel that. sometimes, i ask for strength and out of nowhere, hear her "go ahead kiddo" and it gets down. call it over the top. i call it faith. but i wish she were her so i could see her face. touch her cheek. trim her halle berry haircut. hug her again.

and that's life. the regret. the wishes, the take backs, the do overs that never happen. we treat each other like disposable plates, carrying the load until we crack and are then expendable. still, i dont believe all life is that. Coco knew she was loved. even in the tough of it. and im sure his father knows his son is trying to portray the strength his father taught him, growing up.

i wish i could tell him i understand, and that be enough.

what

are you looking at? go cop that!

Pre-ORDER SHEROSHIMA

Get ya copy of my newest album and because its the season for giving, i'll throw in a copy of the UnLadyLike Behaviour - a uk experiement (this is the last pressing of my handmade book of poems. catch it before its too late!)

http://poetcd.com/buy.php?id=173

love you all, see you soon, and if i don't cop this until we meet again

lovelove

*orders mailed out dec 15th!

she wants to know

if cats have foreheads.

i laughed until my stomach hurt...

welcome home

lil elai...
you will be deeply loved, young man

all i ever wanted

was some peace.

re-connecting with my mother this past week, has been tremendous on my soul. i haven't had a chance to really digest it all, as the car issues and regular busy life, still runs my every minute. but it's been something.

and it hurts so good.
so how do i find my way home?
where the peace has never truly existed in my family life, but my family's existence was always there. always there. and now. with each of our tree limbs stretched across the globe, i wonder was it ever healthy?

we bickered hard
played hard
ate alot
never wanted for nothing
didnt know death enough to fear it
talked loud
gossiped often
envied little things
admired silently
loved each other regardless

this is what i can remember. cornbread and family reunions. late night card parties and early pancake festivities. sprinkler games and kool-aid fights. i had a beautiful childhood. even though, i hate kool-aid til this day. i refuse to buy it as i was always the one to fill up the pitcher, being young and all. so now, its just juice - soda - and if i buy ice tea mix, i almost NEVER make it.

but it was a good childhood. minus the teenage time. the crashing of the car. the crack addiction. the credit card scams. the bad checks. the crashing of the car into his leg. the jumping at the football field. the solidarity in being wrong. the pain of being right. the first love. the school drop out. the return to high school. the loss of innocence. minus all of that -- it was beautiful and full of colors and scents and laughter and love.

i almost never thought of my father's abscene. well, atleast now, that's what i pretend. and its now -- that i look back and wonder how my mother raised me without allowing me to run her life. without my brother and sister running her personal life into a rut of no return. did we terrorize her friends with questions about blue skies? i am almost certain i did not. except for that one guy. i hated him. but i think i was pretty easy to deal with. and my sis -- well, she terrorized us so im sure her terrorizing my mother's gentleman friends was a given.

i have to remind myself to ask them about it one day.

children underground

watching this documentary about romanian kids living in an underground subway
and sniffing aurolac (paint) to get high....

will talk more about it when its done.

know this, it makes you appreciate the small things in life.

new writing, getting lost and North Carolina for 300, Alex

i made it to NC. after 2 hours of traffic in New York and New Jersey, then another hour of traffic in Virginia. i pull over. decide to sleep for 3 hours or so, and make my way back. instead i wake in 2 hours and 40 minutes. ask billy errol why the hot chocolate machine isnt working, use the restroom and make my way *the wrong way* to charlotte.

on my way to miami, it hits me. i missed my turn somewhere! ugh

after my 12 hour driving trip turned into 15 hours, i made it into my brother's rocky driveway.
my newphew ran to greet me and amari at the car and so did my mother. i wasn't so mad anymore.

just tired
no room for that. headed to walmart with maDUKE to get last trimmings for thanksgiving dinner and end of buying my newly single brother, a kitchen set. crap!

where's the coffee?
right here. in my hand. a cup of grande skim white mocha settles my 2 hour shopping experience gone awry mood and im back to getting back. as soon as i get in, i crash in burn on the couch and wait for the spinning room to stop along with the voices. 2 hours later. i dress and head to my brother's surrogate family for thanksgiving dinner.

thanks-killing
what a time of year. to be reminded how christopher columbus sucked all types of ass when killing native americans. so how do i say more gravy to that? i don't, necessarily. my daughter knows the truth. but i also understand, this is the time my family gets together. the one time i tried to boycott thanksgiving, i broke my grandmother's heart. as she was into the gathering of her kin. and so it stands. i am rocking the dinnerware for fam. we have conversations that i know wouldnt happen, simply because life can be that raw. and when you have one - you rarely see those that loved you while you worked around the edges to a smooth new you. do i make a toast? show my thanks to the day? no. i show my thanks to the blood coarsing thru my family name. i appreciate them for all making time that day, and hope they will know from the hug, that i wish it were everyday, we were able to hold each other, like this.

another one for the road

they also stole my scrabble sets

still, in hate of nyc

robmeblind

the car was vandalized

i hate bklyn now

ok, not bklyn

i hate thieves...thatliveinbklyn

they took my john legend

then to make it all perfect

i went to get a cup of coffee so i could feel a lil caffeinated high
and i got a parking ticket!

fuk me

highlight: he got me a cool dvd set

whistle while you work

im excited. alot of things are happening.
great things!
even though the devil sends his spawns to taunt me

lmao

really.
things are well and i feel like i owe you more
than every other tangents!

so here is my week of gigs.
hope to see you.


Nov 18 2006
6:30P
Identity House
Manhattan

Nov 19 2006
12:30P
MISOGYNY & Hip Hop @ Eugene Lang College
Manhattan

Nov 30 2006
8:00P
Poetry Finals @ Queens College
Queens, New York
Dec 5 2006
7:00P
Soul Salsa Revisited: The NUYORICAN OPEN MIC
manhattan
Dec 7 2006
8:00P
Jam PACKED: RAC MCKIBBENS, BRENT SHUTTLEWORTH, MAHOGANY & JIVE
BKLYN
Dec 10 2006
7:30P
NJ Youth Slam
Edison, New Jersey
Dec 19 2006
7:00P
Conversations: Q&A @ The Nuyorican Poets Cafe featuring: Miguel Alagrin
Manhattan, NY
Dec 29 2006
8:00P
Xrossroads Theatre Jive & Mo's SHOW
Denver, Colorado
Dec 30 2006
8:00P
Xrossroads Theatre
Denver, Colorado
Jan 21 2007
8:00P
When Sistas Speak
Toronto
Feb 16 2007
8:00P
JAM ON IT
Manhattan
Mar 17 2007
9:00P

Charlotte Slam
Charlotte, North Carolina
May 1 2007
8:00P

Af-American Hertiage Festival @ OSU
Ohio

cleaning house

i am packing my things
ridding the shadows of their webs
and the dust of their mightyness
i am clearing out a new day


today is all about movement. and space and time. and breath control. i have a workspace for my daily business of poetcd and penmanship. i am anxious to see how i look working at a desk again. rather than writing poems on the toilet, in kitchen, in my room flooded with books and cd's and tv staring at me stare at it.

i think this is needed. even in the heightened moment of winter. i think making myself fall into a tighter regiment of scheduling can only help my productivity.

who knows. i could be messing with "god's work".
or maybe, im just fine tuning the god in me

the moments of our making

i probably watch too much tv
but when i don't
i allow people to tell me things

and i dont know if its the journalist in me
or the mother
or both

but i am pretty easy to confide in, i think...
i don't run around gossiping (that's ssooooo 1990)
and i'm pretty honest, to the point of abrasive
brutality... but it is what it is.

and we can't lie to ourselves and expect the world
to act like we aren't just walking around naked
fron'tn like the emperor's clothes really fit.

so i've turned to watching tv. atleast i won't have to
wait up all night to find out if she still has her teeth.
or she's not in labor alone. or she had her locks changed
and he's not standing over her and the kids while they
sleep.

maybe i watch too many scary movies? but i'm sure
real life is way more frightening, which is why i can
be honest about my fear. i don't want another woman
i know to be in pain for the sake of his ego stroke.

i mean, really.

when i featured this saturday at a small spot in bklyn.
i was torn. so much going on in that space that i couldn't
even sit in ease. i was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
the energy was off, no matter the friendly-ness of the host
and it was just unsettling, is all. it was there that i was told
in a joking (but probably honest) manner that people thought
i was too hard on men. (verbatim: "mahogany browne is featuring?
ah man, brother's ain't gonna get to love that night!")

and i was stuck for a second. cause if you know me, you know
i love men. hell - i am in love with one! lol and the last thing
i want anyone to assume is that i'm a male basher. so i started
my set by dedicating the evening to sexual harrassment.

i then continued with , i don't hate men. but i love them enough
to tell them the truth. and that's what it all comes down to.

our revolution will never succeed if we don't even know how
to communicate at home. if we can't even love our mates,
spouses and significant others with the same intensity that
we love a favorite food. season. or hobby.

how are we to feel like we can take on the world
if we fall asleep alone or in strife at home?

final days of redeeming sentiments

i was out of it. so much so - i didnt care much of poetry
or the poets that call themselves rockstars, for that matter

i was so unimpressed for the simple fact that people that don't
get their way - can be complete idiots

and i thought i learned to stop looking into the sunlight for
stars - cause it aint coming!

but now
after the babyshower for bassey is complete
and she was surprised i'll tell you! looking as
beautiful as ever...

and after realizing that my fight will sometimes
lead me on a war path for an army with a hidden
agenda

and after taking in the satisfaction one feels for
completing something they set out to do...

i know. this has only begun.
this life.
my journey
my experiences are vast
but there is so much more to come
and i have awhile to fall and stumble
and pant and pray before we're done here...

check out the new addition:
www.poetcd.com

you can buy new shyt by: taalam acey, roger bonar-agard, buddy wakefield, marc marcel, ner city, andrea gibson, khalil almustafa, ca!tlin meissner, mahogany l. browne & so much more. we got books from lemon & cd's by jive poetic.

this is the christmas shopper's dream (for the poetically inclined)

see you soon

grown ups

i woke up the other day,
and realized

i
have
a
grown woman's body.

biz of the day

poetcd
babyshower gifts
nuyo meeting
checks in the mail?
penmanship pick up
movie with amari

ok.
so i forgot, VOTE

dont judge me

on those poets that write about themselves

if i spent all my days
writing about what you know
when would i find out who
the hell i was?

sometimes bklyn is too small

running into someone you once dated can be awkward. or kismet. or both.

watching sex in the city and talking to love of my life, i realized, we only had one of those instances.

he swears i planned it. but i didn't. really. and the fact that the man i once dated -- he being one that i actually considered settling down with once happening upon this evil city against the monogomous -- happened to be at a spot which served as our first tri-mester of dates, didn't make it easy.

so i acted like i didn't see the ex. laid my attention into my current beau, and waited for his gnat-like buzzin' to leave me be. it didn't. he sized HIM up. stood next to HIM. grabbed my hand in hello that lasted longer than any normal handshake and made it quite awkward. i didn't let it bother me. and don't remember much of our conversation about it afterwards. besides the "that was your ex or something", yea - i nod. hoping he sees the vacancy sign blinking furiously.

lucky for me, he didn't scare easily. and HIM became permamnent.

haiku for sunday

when you think of me
tell me you think of no one
but me, lie even

for her

i wondered how else to savor your spirit
but you dreamt in colors undetermined by any spectrum


so

close to touch


but, i watched you wither


shovel sounds of a little girl gone
as he bears on flesh
you fed him with you right hand
thought the trusting petals would bloom
in your left, but only his abscence grew

smiles hindered the closing of doors
and you knew this kiss would last forever

still forevers are only moments frozen
until the baby cries
the girlfriend calls
the dreams of rockstar momentum carry him from you

had you known any better
your knees would've stayed pressed together
clasped smoke between your tongue instead of his
wetness

mind the gap

slippery when worn
and he's worn you

heavy
dirty
ugly
loveless
wanting
more
than
these hidden layers

folded between the cracks and crevices of your mind

you ask for your mother, more than ever
somehow you know she remembers this heartache
maybe she kept the antidote for getting on with life

learn how to dial a phone again
unlearn his digits lose connection

learn how to breath with clothes still pressed
unlearn his fingers lifting at your dress

learn how to wear your hair the way you love most
unlearn his tug'n of tresses,

the mess he made you now
uncivilized girl child
whispering apologies to life unknown
speak your own name,
find your steps again

worry never of the woman he made you
under bedspreads and dim lights


you will always

look this beautiful

in the morning

lost in love

remember the new edition song?

im there these days. and then im lost in between my friend's lives of happiness and tribulations. i get so worked up - i wear most of their bad days. hard hours. miserable minutes. it has worked me senseless. but i dont know how to not hold on to love. for friends. for him. for family. for me.

this is what i know. hold

tight

and if you dont know how you are left. waiting for a father that never truly returned from prison. even after the first slap against my face for interrupting grown ups. or the last time i asked him for a cup of orange soda. the last time i felt really secure with a man, was him. i am almost certain.

and when i did feel safe. i didn't. it was odd. awkward. us. any us. you pick. i never knew which way to look before crossing. or which heart to cross before speaking. or which side my heart stood up -- by itself. or if it did at all. but i did know that my love was yours until you lied. cheated. or both. they were the all bets are off sign. for friends and men alike.

if you say you are, i believe it.
if you say you aren't. i believe it.
if you change up in the middle -- i can't trust you. don't want you in my space to confuse me any further. will mourn your abscene, but love the sanity with knowing that this is the one true thing.

but now i listen to regina specktor and think how can i live my life and help friends without giving my life for friends that never asked for it?

when is too much noticable? when will i learn that people leave for prison, for other love, for a life outside of what i can grasp?

when will i stop yearning for that orange soda?

proud MAMA

she made the drama club a couple of weeks ago
this week
we found out she has won the role of
"DOROTHY" in the WIZ!

springfield.... 2.5 hours to think

and somehow, i tricked myself into making it a 3 plus hour journey. not for the sake of keeping my thoughts. but because when it comes to directions i am ridiculously dumb. i can't navigate my way out of a turnip jar. but whatever.

made it. light crowd. friendly faces. came alive. alright. ihop. dinner invitations. observational eye.

the night and the morning attached to its side like a bad cousin was inexplicable. but it left me in the guest bedroom of a friend/promoter's house wondering about my past misdeeds. the ones i committed while still in oakland. fresh of heartbreak and off the committed bandwagon. i counted while lying in bed, the men that i allowed no real parts of me, and wondered how one gets to that point. i remembered then that it was easy to think of it as nothing. flirting to fling. who cares, im single. and no feelings would be hurt. even if they were mine up at stake.

i didnt like myself very much. but you couldnt tell it by looking at me. i looked as if i loved life. and everybody swarmed around me for the warmth of it. i took to keep company with men i would never have looked twice at (before or after) and i treated some "ok" brothers as i know they would treat "ok" sisters. i was that woman that men talk about when they got they heart broken. though i cant say that i broke anyone's heart, while im sure i tried, subconciously.

still. not the most admirable of persons. and i think of those moments now. before i fall asleep and find my self surrounding by shadows of who i used to be.

Do You

the trollup (is that how you spell it) is checkin' for your date, your significant other, ya know -- that ONE. they sidle up in front of you, ignore you, smile brightly into the eyes of your lover and push past you to hug tightly the frame that makes you shake, willingly.

do you:

a) wait for them to peel their bodies apart before your loved one, introduces you.

b) grab said desperate one by the hair, extremity, throat and toss them to the furthest corner.

c) look amused. wait for loved one to introduce. when it doesn't come. walk away steaming. they wont be getting any of that wonderful tongue tonite.

d) introduce yourself and grab your loved ones titty or groin and let the pissed territory ritual speak for itself



curiously bored,

m

levels

one has to breath in their opportunities
i say

today was interesting
started off ok - then shaky
then ok again - then shaky
stay shaky - then real cool
to mellow - to coffee induced, shake

but never bad. or even close to it
just a lil' awkward

always uncomfortable.

i like what has happened for us lately

the way one rolls over and finds a lovers arm, nooked and ready for resting, or dreams. i like the ease of a lover's want. unlike the eyes that wander. signaling more want and desire to regions unknown to self. but then there are those moments.

where you laugh with friends over spanish food. where you ride the train talking loudly and laughing louder. where you sing in the car of each other's praises - and still i think of him. though i love these moments. and treasure them dearly. i relish in the nook of my lover's embrace,

and see smiles in his shadows wake.

the air smells like dog poo but the chipotle was slamming

im in minneapolis. right before our 1 year anniversary.

and its hectic in life right now. jared paul had to cancel last minute, and our opening musical act, Brent Shuttleworth, had a family emergency that landed him in FLA.

besides that, my daughter cried because i was leaving for the evening (i will return to host/produce JAM) and im broken.

i want to be able to give her everything and everyone who ever made a promise to fufill that. but it aint working out that way. it seems our words ain't what they used to be. they dont mean shyt anymore. "balls and my word" seems like saying "i love you" to a one-night stand. maybe it feels like love while you are in their face -- but, you both know the truth.

and the truth is im tired. sometimes i want to crawl up and sleep until everyone goes away. life seems too hard for no reason. i aligh myself with people and do right by them -- expecting the same in return. but this is a futile attempt at humanity for most. most get in where they fit in so they can get what they came for and get out.

and maybe i want that non-nagging sensation that comes with doing for SELF. i dont know. i am blundered on so many levels and it just seems to keep getting deeper. that feeling of regret. and resentment.

how does one stay afloat in such murky waters?

the things that happen

hurt.

confusion. sets in.
and now i dont know what to think
where to turn
how to feel

it just know it doesnt make sense
doesnt seem fair

the work thrown in to this idea
this legacy -- it happened willingly

and now, i dont know so much

call me soccer MOM, what?!

this is the nu baby... and im still gangsta!

thanks for hanging in with me -- those who listened to my whining, you will not be forgotten :)

bondedluv - sneak peek of new poem

"if i could pull away your sexy
i might"

wow. i have had crazy writers block when it comes to finishing a poem. and this is the first one done since who knows when.

what a relieve. while everyone is out having fun, clubbing, sleeping and sexing. i am writing with glee.

quote #00102348

"unzip my body and take my heart out"

work in progress... a love supreme

suicidal tendencies
bless me worry
strange new lover

coarse veins parade evenings
of black storms, tussle my afro

lose sight of everyday dreams
and lets work on this here
blueprint

work'n

getting ready for the block party
trying to write a poem
actually, 3 poems. all commissioned.

not bad to feel this worked, i guess

i just don't know it all the time

big want: a new car. a minivan preferrably. yea. that'd be sweet.

because nothing is ever random, is it?

ive been happy. and happy to be busy. and pained in walking but happy to ride the subway and read and smell odious scents of new york city residents. some smell nice. either way, it reminds me im alive. and well. and i miss watching the maxx video set that he bought. one of them went missing. im afraid i cant bother my self, or my sinuses to go thru the tapes to find it, just yet. bassey and i work diligently in the coffeeshop. before i head home and wake him from his slumber. he sleeps like i dream. often and deeply. and i think of things like this while slaughtering pastrami panini's in bedstuy's lush and newly named stuyvesant heights (for 1200 rent hike) but yea. whatever.

i miss my texas friends. but courtesy of myspace, the devil, i ran into a high school friend. she was glorious then and even more so, now. we caught up for atleast twenty minutes on my cell as i trekked the cities 12 blocks to nearest train stop that would lead me to my next meeting (3 meetings, 2 classes in one day :( ) but it was great to hear her voice. and her smile. she was always a star caught in the matrix. we fell in love with UH HUH, a neo soul singing group named terri and monica, before there was such a title (check it, 1996). and we sang like we might get signed. like we weren't falling in love with boys that would fall out of love with us when time permitted change. we were young. it was heartbreaking.

i hope amari has life like that. not filled with all this hypersexual bull that they pass off to kids in between disney channel and nickeldeon. i hope she has a chance to be the star she wants to be. she asks me often if she is famous. as she believes my travels and non stop ringing of the cell phone make it so. i tell her she will be bigger than i ever could think of. even if she still tears when asking if i heard from her father. i tell her no. because i haven't. i tell her he loves her, even if he doesn't know how to show it. she looks at me as if this is what i am obliged to say, and she ain't buying it. i never look at her long. i wouldnt want her to see the truth pouring head first fufilling her wondering eyes.

sperm donors. that's what chandell said. and she was so right. so many men can bear children but not raise them, and they lose no value in themselves. whereas most women, and i know there are exceptions, will lose respect *which has already dwindled to physical measurements and weave length* if they arent in their child's life. but that's another rant of randomness that isn't really random... now is it

for tiffany

we deserve to be happy...

the wire in bklyn

funny thing happened this afternoon.
i went to get some work done at the local coffeeshop and who do i run into?

MARLO from the wire.

im sure he knew i knew who he was...
the way i sucked my breath in - i mean,
he's a convincing gangsta on HBO's the wire
so yea, i was a lil stunned...

but then i remembered, this is new york city.

i've run across homeboy running lines from spin city,
kevin spacey while walking his dog
and melvin van peebles at chuck e cheese...

i should be used to these things, right?

new shapings

i dont know...

alot of stuff. not so much time. im spending saturday in the house willingly.
time to make sense - thats how the end of the month comes together. so happy project runway is having a marathon. i get to catch up!

whew

all things british

i am here. in manchester, england. the trip was a brief one, and i just left the beautiful flat they set me up in to wait at the coach station so i could finally check email. over one hundred and something of those suckas! damn

i havent been on myspace in days, yes. i am having an allergic reaction! so what?

and i miss home. i think i will try to bake a cake for the upcoming birthdays. the baby and his are days apart. they are so much alike, its freaky. but i would never say a word :)

writing is slow. so slow that i forgot i was still a writer. so i guess the performance for speakeasy/cw was much needed. something nathan p said when i took over hosting was "stay in touch with the performer in you" and when you are hosting - it's hard to think about what poem to do, because you are worried of everyone else'se time limits 'n tings...

so it was good. to be an artist again. must remember to get that equilibriam thing back on track. performer, writer, host, owner, mother. too much on most days. but damn, the journey feels good so far.

and i was commissioned to write some love poems for an anthology here. that's exciting! and i mean hey -- i know about love, don't i?

and it gets my juices flowing. really it does. so now i want to figure out some topics to keep those juices motivated. any ideas?

brit n route to bklyn

a conversation after 14 years

i wanted this to be a poem. but it isn't
whatever...


my mother's voice cracked between phone lines
i am crying inside
baby girl missing maternal hands
but she will not know this so soon

we make pleasantries
converse on weather
grandchildren
mistakes
the levees break
and new orleans is my home today

she is clean
sobered by history and finally
i cry
say i am sorry for never opening back up

i'm sorry
for turning away

i'm sorry for blocking you out
she stops me

understands the reason behind my shell
hard after years of second-hand addiction
breath still black from smoke
or death
or both

she knows
has found god
and he has
has found us again
she smiles
joyous

as her voice crackles
phone line static connection
lending california and new york residents
one last try
for redemption

muthaphlauggerhugger

finally got the website issues under handles, meetings - both promising - completed. and then i wake up to take amari to school and that incredibly loud ticking coming out of my car - has grown into a molestation of passerbyers ears. i cant even turn up my radio loud enough - it sneaks thru the space by the pedals! so i finally drop amari off, trying not to make her look too bad with the hooptie noise following her thru the cafeteria and make my way to the repair shop by my crib.

long story short: the motor is broke and he wants $1300 bucks...

period.

oprah would not have to deal with this shyt

read it!

tOWELHEAD BY ALICIA ERIAN

it is amazing. on some beautifully ugly Sapphire's PUSH type is...

i have a mural viewing tonite before the NUYO... i am working on
something incredible.

you will know sooner than you think


tip of the day: keep the vultures out ya yard, right t?

schedule of events

JAM ON IT

1 year Anniversary
sATURDAY, oCT 21ST, 2006
217 east 42nd Street (btwn 2nd & 3rd Aves)

www.jamoitpoetry.com

featuring:

Lemon
Taylor Mali
Jared Paul &
Ieyoka

musical act: Brent Shuttleworth

hosted by: MoBrowne
music by: Droopist DaRiddlah'

Free food, lots of drinks and music and love!

ughhh come out already :)

honesty

really is the best policy.
and even the most honorable of us
get caught up.

here's to a life check

busy busy busy

yesterday was so good n bad all at once.
i miss him
this world take over thing takes alot of energy

and for this reason, i've only found time to eat
once a day
im sure this isnt good - but hey, i need to lose
the weight anyway.

my prayers are with B-Fran and family, for the loss
of TWEETY: the best brisket cooking Texan with a
music collection out of this world and a penchant
for track races... he was supreme being.

ive been wanting to write a lot lately. but never have
the time - and when i have the time, i don't have the
energy or creative spark to do so anymore.

i will say this. life excites me. which means i am alive

i am alive. which means i am capable of loving and being loved

i am loved. which is the greatest feat of all. because the
world take over isnt worth it, if you are alone.

wednesday's beauty

worked my ass off today, and i havent even made it to the nuyo to host this evening's slam

i am running around - but i am so happy. i think i did something really brilliant, we will see how it pans out Oct 1st...

thank you for sticking with me. i will write something witty tomorrow. it is my day off. and i look forward to watching akeelah the bee and eating popcorn with amari.

engine check

i am blessed

tired

overwhelmed

frightened

angry

but blessed

i will always remember:

though i have not forgiven you - i wish you all the best.
i can succeed. it is within my reach. i believe in me.
if i could fall into your arms everyday, i would.
there are not enough days to keep you small enough for me to hold closer than my own breath.
i feel bad for vivica fox (though she is dancing the hell outta this fox trot!). she went from movie screens to lifetime tv to reality tv. but then hey - as long as she got rid of FIDDY she aint that bad, after all.
i like you listening. and i love when you think im not listening. im sorry if you think i'm an ass. i love you.
i love me.

tune up complete

great

things come in big doses sometimes
and then
you find yourself happily exhausted
watching doctor phil
and wondering what's the next step

moment of silence

9/11 to the day. to the hour.

rest in peace

happiness eclipsed

there was a brief moment there
i almost allowed my shine to be stolen
placed in his pocket like a business
card/and after i remembered how much was
accomplished in life in breathing in space
i smiled it off/which was hard for me cause
im all about telling you how it is. but
these days: im an adult. a grown woman.
and i don't have time to make you see what
i see -- even if it's correct. we all make
our own choices. and if your choice is to
become asshole - i welcome you to be the best
asshole you can be :)

seriously, i am happy. no one can steal my
shadow and sunshine. im uninterested in most
things. if its not about progress -- good luck
but i dont want whatcha selling! to date: i am
very proud of my friends. they have allowed me
growth and silence and spurts and throat tickling
laughter. they are beautiful. so here is a homage
of them. dasha you are brilliant, tee you areon the
cusp of something beautiful - i know you can feel
it, kim find more moments for seeing the golden, i
promise you - you are worth it, erika - my sis, your
happiness is all that matters. congrats on the
engagement...

molove

rundown

talked to a friend today. she made me feel happy for making her happy without trying. does that make me vain? worked non-stop for 3 hours. booked shows til march, recorded isbn numbers and bar codes. how much should my new book sale for? was that a run on sentence? im always thinking like this. he is great. he held my pants so tight i thought the wedgie would split me in half. atleast i knew i wouldnt fall while rolling on 8's. i just found out about his passing. all our love is in texas. im happy. no, really happy. im happy about life. and what's next to come. soul salsa revisted. must make sure reggie is cool with that. taalam's album came out. im on it. so excited to hear what it sounds like. me and tech should get together soon. another track to record while i write up a masterpiece for him. that might be considered too much, but i think i like that more than not. amari is in the greatest class ever! i love life. i love you back. are you ok with that?

wait a minute

i went to a rollerskating party last nite.

imma let u marinate on that one for a minute!

LOVINGLY,
broke ankle brooklynite

seriously

i like when people spell my name right.

mahogany l. browne

yes you can call me mo, but that doesn't mean
you spell mohagany... (as seen courtesy of my web person)
with the e at the end of browne
don't forget my middle initial - the biters are scary!

and i take pride in spelling.

so when you put me on your show, your website or your
tattoo -- do it right.

correct spelling is sexy.

i wanna

write to you... and you...
but i have so much going on
that all i can muster up
is the energy to sleep

working on so many projects
can be advantageous but also
very, very, hard.

i took a london gig -- for a friend.

amari's first day of school started out
hectic and ended very nicely...

i ran errands with a broken tail light
praying i didnt get, yet another tix.
the traffic gods were in my favor.

and i have worked with my partner
for our next 6 month stint of JAM
and am quite impressed with our
business saavy. we will be celebrating
our 1 year anniversary.

alot of planning awaits me - and poetcd is
becoming even more of my life... in a good way.
had brunch with friends on sunday and drove home
in the rain with the family.

still taking meds for the bite and not
loving a second of it...

i have to pee

labor day

sleeping in
writing
watching tv
eating cereal

amari starts school tomorrow
and i have to be a grown up
again...

books for grabs!

if you want any of these books, send $2 via www.paypal.com to customersupport@mobrowne.com and i will ship it immediately!

help me clean my bookcase!

Tina McElroy Ansa Ugly Ways REMOVE -

Connie Briscoe Big Girls Don't Cry REMOVE -

Connie Briscoe P.G. County REMOVE -

Charlotte Burley Cosmopolitan Girls: A Novel REMOVE -

Bebe Moore Campbell Sweet Summer: Growing up with and without My Dad REMOVE -

Bebe Moore Campbell What You Owe Me REMOVE -

Robin Cook COMA (25th Anniversary Edition) REMOVE -

Virginia Deberry Tryin' to Sleep in the Bed You Made (Trying to Sleep in the Bed You Made) REMOVE -

Eric Jerome Dickey Cheaters REMOVE -

Eric Jerome Dickey Sister, Sister REMOVE -

Susan Fales-Hill Always Wear Joy: My Mother Bold and Beautiful REMOVE -

Patrice Gaines Laughing in the Dark: From Colored Girl to Woman of Color--A Journey From Prison to Power REMOVE -

Nelson George One Woman Short REMOVE -

E. Lynn Harris Abide With Me: A Novel REMOVE -

E. Lynn Harris And This Too Shall Pass: A Novel REMOVE -

E. Lynn Harris Invisible Life: A Novel REMOVE -

E. Lynn Harris What Becomes of the Brokenhearted: A Memoir REMOVE -

Vicki Iovine The Girlfriends' Guide to Getting your Groove Back (Girlfriends' Guides) REMOVE -

Sheneska Jackson Blessings: A Novel REMOVE -

Sheneska Jackson Lil Mama's Rules REMOVE -

Sandra Jackson-Opoku Hot Johnny (and the Women Who Loved Him) REMOVE -

Yolanda Joe This Just In REMOVE -

J.L. King On the Down Low: A Journey into the Lives of 'Straight' Black Men Who Sleep with Men REMOVE -

Lyah Beth Leflore Last Night A DJ Saved My Life: A Novel REMOVE -

Bernie Mac I Ain't Scared of You: Bernie Mac on How Life Is REMOVE -

Annette Madden In Her Footsteps REMOVE -

Emma McLaughlin The Nanny Diaries: A Novel REMOVE -

Rosalyn McMillan Knowing REMOVE -

Terry McMillan How Stella Got Her Groove Back REMOVE -

Sharon Mitchell Nothing but the Rent REMOVE -

Angela Nissel The Broke Diaries: The Completely True and Hilarious Misadventures of a Good Girl Gone Broke REMOVE -

John O'Farrell The Best a Man Can Get: A Novel REMOVE -

Patty Rice Reinventing the Woman REMOVE -

Andrea Smith Friday Night at Honeybee's REMOVE -

Wanda Sykes Yeah, I Said It REMOVE -

Brenda L. Thomas Threesome: Where Seduction, Power and Basketball Collide REMOVE -

Trisha R. Thomas Would I Lie to You?: A Novel REMOVE -

Omar Tyree Flyy Girl REMOVE -

Wendy Williams Wendy's Got the Heat REMOVE -

Teri Woods True to the Game: A Teri Woods Fable (Teri Woods Fable) REMOVE -

Zane The Sex Chronicles : Shattering the Myth REMOVE -

meds n haze

i have been all wierd cause of these drugs they gave me
but life goes on -- i got meetings, and lunch dates (w/amari)
i got a movie date(which im sure i will fall asleep in) and uniform
shopping to do.

my throat is swollen on the inside - and my eyes want to stay
closed -- but i have this world take-ova, operation oprah,
so there will be none of that.

yea, *yawn* none of that

hospital run

i got a spider bite
on my ass
next time i tell someone off
while im angry - i will
remember this
crap

the take ova

working on several projects at once is serious business.

i find myself structuring my day in shifts:

first hour: poetcd, get amari dressed

second hour: penmanship books, booking for Jam

third hour: editing album, lesson plan

fourth hour: myspace, cereal break



this shyt is hard. makes me feel like an adult. i mean excluding the cereal break. cause you know a sista needs dat damn cap 'n crunch...

but this is what they say the hustle is about. so i don't worry about going to the cafe in the rain. i try to focus on the book case overflowing. know that my next book will be alongside them in barnes n noble. borders. tower. all dat!

but then i snap out of it. i gotta go back to work.



fifth hour: special events programming

sixth hour: school shopping for the kid, more myspace and a siesta

and once i wake. back to the grindstone of converting PDF for printers, editing poems, and trying to breath thru the process.

i am venting. but this is the good kind. the kind that pushes you forward. outlines your breath and reminds you of the folks that try to hinder that growth. that light that shines when you really about gettin' shyt done.

conversations @ 5am

him singing "kool-aid" as some form of jedi mind trick

me laughing until my chest hurts...

revisit tools for relationship and self

communication lines open - even when it hurts

also,
write projects that occupy your space and mind -- mine was almost two pages long... which is beautiful and scary.

he says im too busy, i agree. but i feel like a slouch if all and every moment isnt accounted for...

back to bklyn

it took 4 days of family

i performed at soul cypher, which was dope considering NER city and Scorpio produce the show. and they brought something beautiful back to Oakland which makes me happy to come home for more than peach cobbler!

my grandmother's birthday dinner was beautiful. we went to scoma's which is a big time seafood restuarant on the bay of san francisco's waters. the food was massive and gorgeous and expensive. that's all im saying.

amari is so tall. i almost fell over when she ran for me and jumped in my arms. she's a trip. but now, we have to ween some of that oakland slang outta her. and the eye rolling - gotsta go!

now im in san diego, my flight leaves in 4 hours and im going back to the mall. i have to cop these sneakers and work off the payment - cause i was supposed to be working for rent and car tow money - not shoe money. but if you know me, you know i cant pass up a fly pair of nikes, adidas or pumas. so - whatever.

oh yea, my sis got engaged. im happy for her. beyond all the personal information that i wont share here - as long as he makes her happy, he can live. that said - imma be a bridesmaid. yea. can you say diet? again! anyway. im going back to watch project runway. i have so much to tell you - but this isnt the right time.

trust that i will as soon as it is all clear. just know this, i've decided - i'm going to be the Oprah of this poetry shyt...

full of it

got the car back
feelin' lighter steps in my stride already
but he's full of crap

whatever...

i have a class
and got jaha's new book
to be published by PENMANSHIP (yes, me)
real soon :)

welcome back nuyo party tonite...

there are those silver linings i was looking for

changes...

are coming - the car, was the beginning.
i have to check myself slowly -
"look both ways before crossing my mind"
no one really wants change, the unknown
is scary
but i do
and im an advocate for GET OVER IT ALREADY!
we ain't time to stress those things we can't
change -- but i recognize it's fuk'dup-ed-ness

i mean really, i aint a machine

bklyn O in the bldg

today my car was towed... i can feel the beginning of something bad happening.

nat's and the nuyo...

ok. this will come in sets of 3. this first one is about the nuyo and the assholes. the next ones will be about louderarts, austin neo soul and life after... enjoy!

1.

nat's and the nuyo...

it was one of those moments that i will never forget. as first year coach for the Nuyorican, i was extremely proud of my rookies: darian, falu, rainmaker and shanelle. not only did they throw their testicles against the wall -- they socialized with the teams. built relationships with other poets and listened intently.

i tried to ignore the dismissiveness of certain hosts and just kept a neutral and polite (yea, me) stance -- even taking it so far to pour them a cup of my gratitude for opportunity, for a beautiful setting, for the fukn' sun coming down and beaming against my forehead. basically, i made sure there was no animosity on my part -- even if they didnt have the decency to look me in my face when speaking. asshole.

now, im home. and it all rushed me. but before i knock at any of the things that i felt was a huge FUCK UP (like not inviting the co-champion of 2005, Janean Livingston, to perform at indies finals or team finals or womens showcase or even a friggin workshop!) -- let me say this. i had a blast. and i think Mike Henry should look into running for fukn president!

he was welcoming to EVERYONE, he was on point and he made me want to come back year after year (even if that stupid rule of regionals' winner only being guranteed a position in later NPS. he is th shyt. fa real.

now, back to the back to the nuyo... we had a lot of drama. so many people came up and asked me "is it true?" so let me give you this. the persons that were once on the team were all phenomenal, in their own creative way. but dedication to a UNIT rather than one self can be trying and beyond what one is trying to do for their career. that said,

1. yes. we did have 3 team changes. for reasons like punctuality (but not limited to). and yes. it can be considered extreme -- but i know when someone is saying "i'm late because i almost got in a car accident, and the iron burned my kitchen into charred tar" or "i'm late because i can be, bitch. get off me". since it was the latter, i was willing to take only 4 people if that meant they would be dedicated to the team and not some personal doctirine. hell, i was willing to take 1 poet with a a suitcase of disguises and 20 poems!

2. yes, the nuyo only takes a poet ONCE! no really. lol -- and while its admirable, let me give you this. with the climate of poetry and most of the new poets that have emerged, post def poetry, the selection is getting harder and harder :( -- the poems are getting worse and worse and i am wincing my way thru slams. but right when i've given up - darian dachaun, falu', and shanelle gabriel walk in the spot. these are the team members brought in after cuts. they ALL placed highly (if not winning) semi's and runoff slams. they weren't just some poets i found on the streets. (though i did meet falu in bklyn before begging her to come slam at the nuyo and see how she liked it), they were all a part of the mix. and deserved to be a part of THAT TEAM, because they were willing to leave the ego's at the door, they were willing to sacrifice time and work, they were willing to undergo child care issues, double work load for time off and no sleep -- for an NPS opportunity, they deserved it. and for the cats that made them believe for one second as team members their positon was a tainted one - kick rocks! they stepped up like soldiers and walked in the trenches, under scrutiny and past the "masked marauder bullshit" for that NPS moment and they shined every minute.

so this is my thank you to them. ya'll rocked out the nationals. and i am glad you could see the goodness beyond my abrasive truth, while it may be considered "hardcore" and overwhelming -- it was always for that insurmountable moment - when we made semi- finals (besides all the naysayers wishing us an early demise) when we made indie finals, as we ate and drove and laughed and recited each others poems... that is all i have ever wanted for you. the goodness that goes missing when slam become too serious. the relationships that go unnutured when slams become to serious. and the people and poets and thinkers and genuises we lose touch with - because of points, rather than the people that inspire more better POEMS... and to brady. the only one there when i was about to burst. the one that talked me outta pop'n the car trunk and keep'n it OAKLAND. the run that ran the poems, ran statistics, kept it clear - stayed honest and NEVER NEUTRAL... thank you chica, i owe you a veggie burrito...

all of you, thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a part of such a beautiful ensemble.

settling...of the storm (not a poem)

there are moments when you want to write
but no metaphors seem heavy or light enough
strong or limp enough
willfull or spontaneous enough
and then you are left looking at the paper

which in this case, is your life
and you wonder what comes next
and why are you so bent on using a certain type of pen
when so many are available to you?
or, why are you writing without a pen - what does that
mean? that experience you are trying to write without
the tools needed?
or maybe you have run out of pens to use and are just
waiting for someone with a stack of pens to borrow.

ok - this is where the metaphor drops --

so my life has been this paper, yo
ive been around people that run out of ink
and take mine for themselves to relish
or just wait for me to run out of ink
and into writersblock, whichever comes first.

and in doing so - sucked my writer's spirit away

that's how i feel about drama.
i think i have allowed a healthy amount
to fester and really eat at my core - but there
are pieces of soulful flesh caught in my
nightmares and pushing my limbs to action.

i can't watch someone i love and respect
(whose pen has scribbled and cursived an
awakening in me) be in pain. especially
if i can help... and therein lies the problem.

i am no martyr.
i admit some of my actions are abrasive,
still, it is who i have grown to except
as me

and from here, it doesn't look so bad

pics of MoBrowne in MoBay

im back

i have been to paradise ya'll..

give me a second to come back down...

leaving

for jamaica -- see ya in 10 days :)

please

be safe...

mannn

im sick.
no matter. i gotta pack. talk to jive's class. wash clothes. team regional at the bowery tonite. and smile - to keep the haters on their toes. operation kill 'em wit
kindness is in affect.

yo, biters

fa real... sux

i see you kidd

for the record

i dont hate you.

i hate what you do. the wrong that you allow to
dictate your actions into violence.

the words that fall from lips
untrue, in a hurry to paint you lovely,

vanity has never been a trait of pride

i hope you find the adult in you
growing more ready for this world's

withering facades don't pass
slam scores will never be the amount
of greatness or worthlessness

i hope you learn to sleep at night,
i do.

right when i started to stress,

no one is coming - producing shows in the summer sucks, people are wack!

we had an incredible crowd of people that filled the room and left their

grudges at the door.

it was a blessing. the entire evening.

here is me learning how to doubledutch, again

thunderous

its gonna rain cats and dogs today
and i have a class to teach.

actually, its 3 classes, as i am
stepping in for a colleague -- so yea
3 hours of kids. so not excited!

that said,

more lovely news. i have been commissioned
to host the Black August Concert this year.

the bad thing about it - i'd have to leave
the Nationals on Sunday, rather than chillin'
there for a couple of more days as planned.

but work and opportunity be like that...
sorry live mik :(

what else -- o great, we are now on storm
watch
im so unexcited

focal point

right now
im behind...

im losing this race
and im lettin' cats get to me

stop

breath

again

ok

good things have happened in the midst of all the madness.

i will be producing a tour for a reputable movment - more on that in 2 and 2

i will be co-producing our brainchild's year anniversary! niiice

and i will be publishing 3 books before August: MY OWN, BIG MIKE & the anthology HIS RIB

i am stressing, cause i am trying to have my body catch up with my brain.

but, they keep tripping my wires

like rats do -- in occupied buildings.

YOU BORE ME

this is the beginning of the end.
i am unsure if i want to keep this up
this front

the one that speaks to people
posing as poets
arguing the devices with mispronouciation

i hate NY for that
bringing in a generation
that assume they

got this shyt on lock
without study
or respect or skill, barely talent

you are a failed rapper
i think.
any bum on any given

A train is talented
when you goin' make God proud?
then the drama follows

the things that fall out of
of order;
out of a teenagers mouth,

combusting into gossip
that will be served with beer
and shots of tequila

upset my stomach
brim over my conscious
make me laugh when alone

as if i could be any less sane
than now
but i know the talking

is
just a sign
that im doing it write

that is for the vultures. once i have returned from nationals. i will spill the beans. honestly. i would do it now, if i wasn't trying to be an adult about it. but then again, by the time nationals is over, i will have forgotten about it because honestly. it's boring already.

this breakdancing baby is the BEST! enjoy his cuteness

before you assume

anything more than this is just another blog. don't.
this is a happy medium. i've had few days where life
just
is.

i like it.
not expecting the worse.
though i have been missing my child
immensely.
i call her constantly
and worry just as much.

i feel silly most times
then sometimes - i feel like
how could i not worry.
after working at a group home
and for the many non-profits that
protect and provide for children
that have been abandoned, molested,
and beaten -- i am always extra sensitive.

as if that's even possible.
but it seems it is.

now i sit in coffee shops
wondering if she misses me
like i miss her
wondering if all this shyt i've
involved myself in
is worth losing out summer time
with her -- then i remember
nyc is cool -- but a kid needs
an alternative

and i love cali for that.
it is home of the bike riding banchees
that are my neice and nephews.
where they smell grass and dirt and pollen
instead of JUST car smoke, asphalt
and tar.

hmph. i dont know where i was going
but i know where i wasn't -- and that's
to the drama filled portion that is my
poetry life. lol

to even separate it like that and give it
a title is hilarious in itself.
but, when things go awry and folks find themselves
losing themselves to the same egos they
condemened...then its time for separation of
church and state.

here's to prayers

in three's

they say the bad news comes in this order... but it hard for me to believe this past month has been a mere count of three. let's see:

1 - first team hurdle, not too much of an upset, but definitely a precedent set for destruction.
2 - second team hurdle, this took 3 weeks to manifest, and when it should have exploded and we walk away carving shrapnel out of our skin -- it imploded, damaging some internal shyt. no recovery as of yet.
3 - third team hurdle, and i thought i would lose it. saw red for a couple of seconds, lost my speech and wanted to start swinging - for no other reason than i could. and it would've made me feel better, instantly. but that's not how adults handle real life ish. ok. breath - count and breath - still counting.

my personal friendships have been the most painful, team slam ish - will pass after august, if anything -- that's just an endurance test -- but friendships, those are what i hope to have for a lifetime. this is the reason i nuture them. implore and challenge the weight.

4. one of my great friends is having the hardest time of her life. and i feel like shyt. i don't know how to help - how to hold her hand, how to hug her... she is a soldier. and she blinks ice in the face of adversity, so even i am a lil' intimidated. but when i saw her face wither and turn to mushy sadness. collage of all the women i knew and loved, i cried with her. i willed her peace. but it didn't matter. she had to finish the course. and the journey left her in another country. i worry of her. and she offers text messages of safety in return.
5. this beauty reminds me of me. the pain, the unknowing, the hurt, the confusion, the blame, the why and the why nots. her will to make it thru the prickley bush is astounding, and she is human. so i try to help nurses the cuts and bruises, offer miso soup and jokes about vegans... she only laughs sometimes
6. no one thought we would connect how we did. but she is like me in so many ways. and i could not help but be her friend. how do you tell an angel im not interested in you having my back? not as easy -- even under such circumstances. but i wish i couldve figured out a better way to protect her. cracker jack interpretations are only funny when one doesn't yearn for a real answer. and i feel horrible. to know the investment she has made is equal to that farm land in Florida. to admit the foundation is built with selfishness, asbestos and fiberglass, is a harder feat than you might think. i know she is strong enough to maintain. and i know she is strong enough to walk this trail alone, but me knowing and her believing are two different things. so i wait. assured she knows i will help her pick up the pieces whenever she is ready.
7. and then there is 1. our friendship was built on books and coffee. and i enjoyed her love for the word and life. and her unwillingness to participate in the poetry bullshit was even more refreshing. but the sound of her breaking heart, even when she read the general surgeons warning on the side of the box which read: he will break your heart. no, really -- is an uneasy slow scrap of pain. it is the bleeding scab, the black eye, the bruised sternum. the crooked house alone with shattered windows. and she is beautiful struggling to maintain her presence. struggling to find herself. again and again, she will fail. she has not learned how awkward her beauty is, yet. but when she does - she will feel better about times like this. when she cried. when she wallowed in pity. when she was slapped out of the idea of happily ever after. then she will fall in love with the happily right fuck'n now. and she will shine. i can't wait to see it.

and i was told that i need to have more me time. the love of my life says i am too involved. too personal. he is right. he is right more often than i give him credit for - but i see him. i peeped him for all his mystically correct splendor. so when he said keep cats out ya pocket. i should've listened.
8. but i trusted her. and thought conversations about life would remain as patchwork for betterment, not ammunition to spill secrets. i don't know how to look at her the same. i wish her the best. she is brilliant, but she needs room to grow.
9. he became a person that i didn't know. someone i had no idea could existe behind such admirable words. or maybe, he was always that person. just on his best behavior? the less i think about it - the better i feel. the more i feel. i wish him well.
10. my sister can be a damn maniac. she is overbearing and loud and bossy. but she is my sister. and now that she is in love, and talks of marriage - all she wants is my support. which is offer - wholeheartedly. but her new half is not my type of person. he made mistakes in the past that reflect a manipulative character. but she is happy. so i am happy for her. however, a decision i made recently which would separate us from interacting has made her sad. sadder than i ever expected. and if i could swallow the decision whole and take back her tears i would. probably. but there is a part of me, that has tired of giving in. i just want to be left alone. chill with my family and if they have their significant other that irritates me, i will remove myself without drama. without any extra additives. i thought that would put her at ease. i usually am all about MAKING YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE if i dont like you. but something happened recently. i grew up. and realized i am an adult. and adults don't have time to worry about tiny things like that. she didn't feel the same. because im still nightmarin' about her tears. and i don't know what to do.

so this is what has happened all those blogs ago. i haven't been able to write because i haven't been able to figure it out. and im still wading thru the madness. but i see the light. and i am feeling like i have a prayer. a hope. a reason to be happy. i have a beautiful daughter and an incredible partner. i am blessed. and while i internalize a lot of my friend's problems -- i know that while taxing, this is only how i know how to be.

a couple of days ago, i had a moment of weakness. life was overwhelming and i couldnt think straight. i wanted to be alone. i wanted to work on breathing and farting and being still. but i went against my judgement and helped a friend -- even though i was in ME mode. and it took a turn for the worse. i left her house feeling more distraught than when i was when i initially walked into her house. and i know she meant well. but, it was a moment of clarity. i needed me time and was willing to give it up so easily. my schedule for the past quarter has been trying to say the least, and those moments when i get to just sit and be quiet are few and far between. so i am figuring out a way to rekindle my love relationship with self. i am wearing more dresses and skirts. i am being happy with the gut that i couldnt seem to lose no matter the exercise, eating regiment, relacor or hydroxycut, i am writing my daughter letters and professing my love. he is beautiful. i tell him every second i can. now, i have to start telling me the same thing. i am writing. working on publishing as promised, but focusing on my shyt. it's been awhile. but i have to focus on me.

this is for all those that love hard, play hard and work hard.

how bout that...?

then there was 5

i.
if i ever found the words
to slice from your tongue with precision
i'd use nothing but my claws

ii.
purposeful poet, vengeful for reasons unknown
you could not love the parts that
suited you best

iii.
there is forgiving, then there is forgetting
you need a definition for both
find the ability to blink before reflection
acceptance will remain your highest hurdle,
hate is still the four-letter word that
rocks you to sleep
even, now

iv.
how have you managed?
manchild womanstorm - free spirit
who will welcome you home?
when will your soiled footprints be enough
of a growth spurt?
when will you realize your potential?
when will you let go?

v.
before today, i fought
tooth decaying under pressure,
i your watchdog, guardian, gorilla bitch
-- loyal--
traced the obvious marks back home
funnel cloud remnants of you, lie, shed
like the snake still hissing dark shadow silhouttes
dormant being,
watch your tongue,
the ancestors know the truth.

the drama ensues

ugh...

it' s jacked up mannn

living like i dont see the truth/is murder of my soul/and i wonder when i will stop caring about what he say/she thought/they do/before i throw a couple of fuk it's to the wind/and sit at a cafe/drinking coffee/happy with my decision/heir to hermit life/but that ain't me/love the laughter i can crease into a mother's pain/her confusion clouding around us/i find words that make her forget it/for a second/a couple of minutes/for now/for i remember being her/thoughts crayola'd on my eyelids/ love a fantasy so familiar i could taste the ending/the glass slippers/the ugly step sisters/the witch/but no one told me the prince would be an asshole/that he might save me/create a haven for me/but as soon as the story ended and no one was watching/he'd flip my spirit inside out for good measure/assured i'd never leave/never question his stares/never concerned about his other maidens/hidden between the lines of poetry/no one offered the truth./and now i wonder/why on earth/would i tell her everything/when the fairy tales are enough/and make the lies sweet enough/to swallow whole.

so...like

the "n" word, hmm??

gnarls

barkley makes me happy. i listen to cee-loo croon as if in his bathroom,
in church - with no remorse. i realize i am in love.

again.

new york has treated me beautifully. maybe not all the people i know,
but it has been considerably kind to me. i adore every cobble stone and
broken ankle for it.

but i have been losing sleep lately. not the type of sleep that keeps you
tossing and turning. but the sleep that never comes, because the heat is too
painful to ignore. or the kids outside fighting are too ignorant to ignore.
or the man snoring next to you, is to beautiful to ignore.

either the case. i'm sleepless in bklyn. minus the internet dating. add the
instances of crazy seinfeld friendships over bagels and coffee and book clubs
that rarely discuss the book but more so our life and the poetry. madness and all.

i had to put poetry on a time out.

too tired to fight the powers that are -- i decided to become THE power.
what that means? you will see soon. until then, i have allocated 2 days to
my slam team, 1 day to my hosting responsibilities and the bulk of my time,
energy, heart will go to our production: JAM. he is growing, our child of
wonder.

spreading fingers and toes and giggling with teething gums. a year he will
be in September 2006. then we have the second stage of life waiting to happen --
what is it?
that's a surprise too. but trust me. it's not just for me and him and him and her.

it's for you.

the lover of art.
the aficionado of freedom.
the fan of verbage.

you...are me

forget about it

she did it

and i didnt even cry. just teared up a bit - but nothing huge. and then she called me when she got in from her cell phone. my lil maniac is growing up

gettin' ready

for amari to travel. first time on her own. i am scared and happy and sad and anxious. and at a loss of words

past days

i have been staying away from typing in my blog cause i don't wanna lose it.

i dont wanna put everything out there and harm the innocent -- or the guilty.

and that is a tiring position. i mean, i am all about truth and honesty - even though i believe in "white lies".

ya know, you don't look horrible. it isn't that bad! no one will remember -- moments. but then - there are the times that i don't want to lie.

don't want to pretend that i don't know speckles of your truth. how you sit when you think no one is looking. how slimy you must really be chasing someone when your someone is at home, waiting.

don't want to pretend that i don't remember the moments of her crying over you. because she thought this would really be the last time she would cry over you.

and i don't want to pretend that you don't deserve better than her. that her frame is worthy of your feverish banter. you are worthy of it all.

but to sit in the prescence of these beings i'd have to lie. act like my life doesnt' reflect sorted images of hysteria, that my poems aren't all autobiographical, that i don't fall victim to knives of insecurities.

that i don't love and rethink the love that's given.

that i don't wait for the other shoe to drop.

that i don't care if this doesn't make sense.

SLAM ON IT!

JAM: "5 will getcha 50" SLAM



5 will getcha 50" Poetry Slam, NYC
Calendar: Calendar
Wordz

June 27th, 2006


JAM ON IT PRESENTS: "5 will getcha 50" Poetry Slam

@ the Goodbye Blue Monday
1087 Broadway
Brooklyn, New York

J train to Kosciuszko

bad dream

so i may laugh at this later -- but i dunno...

i woke up @ 630 today, thinking: "OHMIGOD Im late getting
AMARI FROM SCHOOL!"

and i ran around getting dressed. tried to call the school
but my phone was dead and was about to feel really bad until

he woke up, told me calm down, it's only 6 in the morning!

im such an idiot

WIP - untitled...

so this week has been a bit tumultuous to say the least. but as is life. i am just blessed i have someone that understands me enough to not hold, the internal strife i keep for my friends, against me. i am beyond the airing of dirty laundry.

while sometimes, it is necessary. the real change happens with self. and even i can't, in all my bad-assed-ness, change how he treats her. i can just help pick up the pieces when he fuks up and dust her off before she does one of two things:

a) go back to the man that can't see the beauty and loyalty in this woman or b)leaves him because she recognizes the beauty in herself is worth preserving. either choice, i got her back.

so -- back to the poem. ahem:


Wind don’t bow to trees

Instead it leans into mountains
Carving ideas out of dust
Swimming particles into the
Atmosphere
Spreading the word

Love should never be a metaphor

Should never hurt to say
You are my life
Mean the world to me
Make me feel whole

And safe
And it should never cancel out one part
To make sense of the other

There are no boundaries to create/to cross

We must live like this was our last chance to
Smell the air

Taste the paprika/swallow milk with fervor

Love yourself then love me back without restraint

But restrain yourself

Tempt anger with sweets

Look in my eyes, see the honesty

Know it’s home

Carry a key in your left pocket for safe keepin’

But if you should ever wonder;

Then don’t.

This heart was never built on false hopes
Collapsing under your judgment
We are a deck of cards
Turned house to shack to pile of distrust

Find in yourself what you argue reflects in me
Then ask me if I was dreaming when I spoke a name
So unfamiliar to my tongue it tripped, stumbled
And laid waiting for you to pick it up
Dust it off
Claim it your own

But you blamed the wind
Harbored ill feelings for those storms
Of past turbulence

Scared this would be a repeat
Boarded the house with wood planks

Scurried past roots laid before you

This shouldn’t be a surprise

You’ve gambled life, in the planting of yourself

But don’t fault my strength as a shortcoming for woman:
That can’t listen
Won’t comply
Won’t lie and take it
Take it to make you feel bigger
Better

Fists enclosed around flesh don’t make you man
It’s makes you weak

Leaves you bare
Wicker palm to the sky
Waiting for answers
To questions you have yet to form
Pointing half-hazardly with sharpened tongue
We don’t take confrontation well

Will fight if we must
But rather love
Rather build homes
And babies
Maybe an army

But definitely, a future
With children holding your eyes in each palm
Your penchant for sweets
Your compassion and calmness

But if you must argue
Tread lightly,
Ready for what follows

We were built as this force for a reason

And we won’t bow
Not even for the mountains

full of shyt

that is all...

SHE

is worth so much more than this.
we all are her

these are the moments that i learn how to be grown

watch my tongue

watch your actions

i see you Black.

don't mistake my silence for ignorance

i watch predators

wait for them to slip

too busy to worry about a metaphor

i see you Black.

me in all my woman-ness
appreciate the chance

to work on my backhand

[ed note: this is exactly what you think it is. be careful]

bklyn sun'n

i have so much to talk about. and now, finally, more time to do so. workshops are over. and now, i have a couple of intensives that have popped up -- making the idea of a restful summer very possible.

re-editing the book for the last time as it goes to press and will be ready for purchase on july 5th! how about that?! check the artwork below, my peoples from inua created something more beautiful than im sure i am ready for -- but hey. rock on!





but until then im going back to sin sin for the house party. its really small and a bit awkward. but i miss moving to rhythm because i can. my ankle was pretty swollen the next day - but the exercise was necessary. and i miss that. laughing because it feels good. allowing fluid to become those joints that i forget exist.





so yea. that's where i'm at. practicing my team for nationals - i made coach this year. and putting the feng in my shui after amari makes her way to cali for the summer. i will miss her deeply. when she sleeps over her god sister's house, i always gush over her. she looks at me in that, "uh - -get over it!" way. but she's brilliant in her 8 year old way. somehow, she talked me into participating in career day for her school and jive and i went and convinced about 5 classes into becoming poets. better than drug dealers...no?


keep it funky,

BK to the fullest

in the absence of words pt 2

2

lily dark melodies still ring off key
and i welcome the intensity
it's the passion that will keep our children
fed
and loved
listening to jazz during breakfast
and hip hop for lunch

we can't save it if we leave it unmanaged
coarse thickened blood child
woven dreams and church anthems
like the hypocrisy ain't ironic

ask me how i know u so well
fact is, i don't
though i can picture our children
the same ones you cut from neck to torso
out of your legacy
figured death instead of life
was easier to deal in depressive corners
so you dreamt in black and white
and brown for the pretty women
i would never be

working some words out: in the absence of words pt 1

here's the first part of a piece i'm fallin for.

hope it makes you feel something, and if it doesn't i ain't doing this thang right...


in the absence of words

i.
you looked just like you do now
brilliant and beside yourself
i love it when you do that

pretend this life of words is
all it's cracked up to be
when we all know the truth

stretch your forearm into the sunlight
block blessings if you dare
but know this shine is what we were
promised

allow it to break free
allow us to just be beautiful
and then

the words will make sense
though no poetry will exist
we are beyond metaphoric confinement

i swallow you sideways and spit out the seeds
who's fuckin' with that?

atwood - again at her finest...

Spelling
Margaret Atwood
My daughter plays on the floor
with plastic letters,
red, blue & hard yellow,
learning how to spell,
spelling,
how to make spells.

*

I wonder how many women
denied themselves daughters,
closed themselves in rooms,
drew the curtains
so they could mainline words.

*

A child is not a poem,
a poem is not a child.
There is no either / or.
However.

*

I return to the story
of the woman caught in the war
& in labour, her thighs tied
together by the enemy
so she could not give birth.

Ancestress: the burning witch,
her mouth covered by leather
to strangle words.

A word after a word
after a word is power.

*

At the point where language falls away
from the hot bones, at the point
where the rock breaks open and darkness
flows out of it like blood, at
the melting point of granite
when the bones know
they are hollow & the word
splits & doubles & speaks
the truth & the body
itself becomes a mouth.

This is a metaphor.

*

How do you learn to spell?
Blood, sky & the sun,
your own name first,
your first naming, your first name,
your first word.

Mahogany interviews Melvin Van Peebles

Friday, June 9th, 2006
The Original Badass
Seventy-three years young, film master Melvin Van Peebles is still blacking out on hollywood’s racism

Posted In: Magazine, Real Life
story: Mahogany L. Browne
On the relationship between Hollywood and Blacks in the ’70s:
Nonexistent. It was a vacuum. It was close to a medieval guild system. When I first started, the job they finally agreed to give me was as an elevator operator. They tried to convince me that I didn’t have the creative skill, or the aptitude, required to be a director. Jump cut: 10 years later. I come back with a prize-winning feature film. And at that they can’t say nothing. Just like they can’t say black quarterbacks aren’t smart enough to run a team or a black manager can’t handle a baseball team.

Continue reading this story in the July/August 2006 issue of KING (#32).

day THREE

so yea. that order of pechuga de pollo al ajillo was slamming. the filete en salsa was much better but - hey, i had camarones to cover up the hardness of it all.

oh yea, that means the diet is still on pause.

whatever

im a loser

day TWO

so i sux. on so many levels.
i had to stop the diet because i was told i was doing it wrong, again -- with direction reading. so i ate raw foods. to get my body prepared. then i went to sleep. woke up with a terrible stomach ache. prayed to the porcelain god and realized, i don't need this crap...

maybe i will give it a go again when amari doesnt need to have food cooked for her -- or when i have more of a back bone. whichever comes first

day ONE

the next ten days will mark the dealings and going ons of my new lemonade/cayenne pepper diet (the same diet beyonce used to get ready for the dreamgirls role). so, im sorry ahead of time. no poems, no musings on my so called crazy life until i can get 10 pounds off this waist and thigh area because though JAMAICA doesn't mind big girls, my ankle does.

it's been cracking, locking and carrying on for the past couple of months and alot of that has to do with the extra weight acquired during my bedrest. anyway, enough back history. today is DAY ONE.

and so far, it stinks. i made my first two batches (20 ounces) with too much cayenne pepper.
if you know me, you know i hate reading directions. and these are the things that happen because of that... so yea. now im gulping 2 tbsps of red pepper from my concoction, rather than 1/10 of a tbsp...

result:
me coughing -- alot
burning throat
and sniffing until i sound like an old man with a cigar and booze habit

its raining out -- i wonder how this will sit with my two classes?

umm, ok...

it's 6am... i felt creative for the first time in a while...


the walls spoke of your infidelity
but i ignore the creaks that houses make during settling
look past the paint peeling, you're ugly
understand this is what comes with the years

worn
wear and tear
all these realtor friendly words slamming flesh
to floors hysterically
as if they have any idea of how tired these bones are from smiling
so hard
we'd laugh instead
ignorant to the bliss that doesn't exist
till enamel chips

i am left ragged
spewing some old maid's tale about cats
when the simple fact is,
i really love cats
more than you at times

wonder why i sleep near them more than you
these days?

pet their fur, free their fangs of wooden remains
and carpet shreds
rub their stomach
wait for the purrs to drive me insane
content with being appreciated and loved
slick insides intact
expectation-less this body sits
free to touch my pussy
without your eyes pleading

machismo: uncertainty bridging the silence
fallacle gods taunted by the feline
svelte canal of form -- fitting hour glass and candlesticks
countered by whimpers of omission
begging of understanding
of what this all means

Mahogany Browne in the TIMES!

so i was in the New York Times last week. pic and all

who knew?
once i get mista to scan this for me - i will show ya'll the pic. until then - enjoy article

m

Life as a Runaway; Do These Pants Rhyme?


TEXT BY RUTH LA FERLA (NYT) 264 wordsPublished: May 25, 2006AT the mike the vibe is earnest; the succession of performers at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in Manhattan lob verbal grenades at targets as disparate as the R&B star R. Kelly and the war in Iraq.
But the crowd is something else. Jamming the long, narrow barroom on East Third Street on Friday nights for regular poetry slams is a colorful gathering of seminary students, artists, actors, scholars and exuberant gawkers. Most are dressed to the nines in a playful pastiche, their get-ups a vibrant riposte to the moody rants on stage.
They watch their host, Nathan P. (below) tip his fedora and urge an effusive welcome for marquee attractions like the poet Mahogany Brown (large photo, top).

''I'm an English teacher, so obviously I dig this. I love the diversity,'' said one audience member, Carlton Powell of North Carolina, who had pinned a Malcolm X button to the lapel of his coat.
Kiandra Parks, (center, far right) signaled her enthusiasm by jumping up to show off her raspberry-pink dress and parrot green bolero designed by Luella Bartley for Target. Priscilla de Jesus, (bottom row, second from right) a bartender from the Bronx, had methodically worked out her look: oversize Planet Earth men's jacket and baggy trousers held in place by a Superman belt.

In contrast, Alexei Zagdansky (bottom, far right), affected a Sinatra-like nonchalance. ''What, this?'' Mr. Zagdansky, an art director from Fort Lee, N.J., asked as he touched the brim of his checkered hat. ''I picked it up from a street vendor just before I walked in.''
Photos (Photographs by ELIZABETH LIPPMAN)

new word for woman rightousness

BAAALLLLOOOWWW! (pronounced: BLAW!)

that is all

one week of work to go than we got thangs to talk about :)


m

4 days off and?

ive needed time to sort through things.
dont know what the conclusion is, as i seem to be
still working thru it

dont know where that will lead me
or leave me

what i do know is this.
i dont like sometimey shyt.
never have -- never will.

i am who i am
always have been

even now. i worry about you
but i cant walk you thru this
i can ask you to be honest with yourself

that is something only you will find
within. and then it will make sense

this whole world
this crazy place
these painful times

will envitably work themselves out
with or without your consent

[ed note: on friendship and the importance of sisterhood]

WTF?

so like she says,

"we have to be careful what words we use while performing for this kids"...

[ed note: the kids are pregnant teenagers or new teenage mothers, most abandoned,
some from rougher than rough sides of life -- and all censored all the time.]

i respond

"what?"

to be continued

last chance

Penmanship Publishing Group

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONSHIS RIB: stories, poems and, essays by her.
(editors: Mahogany L. Browne & Bassey Ikpi)
Foreward by: Patricia Smith

This anthology is open to women writers featuring poems, essays, prose,fiction, non-fiction, memoir and monologues.

Submissions should fit intothe category below:
Self- reflection (self-love, how-to, etc)
Coming-of-Age
LoveLoss
Laugh Lines
Political/Socio-Political (investigative, etc)
Individuals may submit up to five pieces (short stories/essays no more than 5,000 words) to either submissions@penmanshipbooks.com or

Mahogany L. Brownec/o Penmanship Publishing
52A Carmine Street NY, NY 10014
Submission Deadline: June 1, 2006

Submissions should include a separate page with your bio, picture and
contact information (email and phone number).

Contributors will receive a copy of the anthology and selected authors
will be invited to participate in the Penmanship Bookstore Tri-City Tour
Fall 2007.

gotta catch up

books i've gotten but have yet to read (insert sigh here):

house on childress street - family memoir (by my friend kenji)
artist's way (thx christa)
bell jar by sylvia plath
yo by julia alavrez
hollering creek woman by sandra ciscernos (and a book of poems)
edible woman by margaret attewood
writer on writing by m.a.
100 million pieces by you know who

and 3 other attewood books!
want to reread even dogs go home to die. and pearl cleage's deals with the devil...

i will be taking a trip to kansas city friday evening, so i will have a great chance to finish atleast two books... which is way cool.
countdown for summer. 3 more weeks of classes, then i have nothing. just me myself and him. amari will be soaking up the cali sun and i will be bklyn bound. jam on it will be running as well as our new open mic in bklyn @ good morning blue

looks like its gonna be a busy one

days past...

there will always be moments where you are tossed back into a place or time.

i recently visited that place.

it was a bad place. one that i pretended didn't affect me.

the fact that my skin was browner than a paper bag.

the fact that i had a gap-toothed grin, rather than a perfected colgate smile.

the fact that i had more curves than a race track...

and now - i feel like im that lil' girl again.

all unknowing and ill-fitted.

irregular like the socks no one wants in the bargain shop.

i feel like this just by browsing pages on myspace.

arguing over stupid ish.

and coming into my PMS. yes, i know. it will pass

but what if it doesnt? and furthermore, what if i dont want it to?

within seconds, i have discovered friends and rediscovered humans that will leave me to fend for myself without a second glance.

i am lonely during these times the most.

is that why i am giving of myself so much?

why i wait for phonecalls. recheck email. offer my heart wait for it to be stomped out like fire.

is this why i open myself to everything without every opening myself to what's perfectly right?

am i afraid if i wait for the rightness to come, i will be a blank open space filled with void and promise.

am i tired of loathing and suffering, liars and cheaters, ego stricken maniacs and the like?

and when will i stop waiting for friendship in turn for unconditionality?

when will i stop revisting that lil' high school girl that waited for everyone to see the beauty without sacrificing my virginity?

when will i let her come out of the shadows and stop dancing and smiling and helping and hoping to be loved with familiar hands? with genuine warmth?

when...