Her Story

(Based on a true story.)

"Oh, GOD forgot all about me a very long time ago."

Pools of coiling blood blankets the floor. Screams flood the walls. Darkness sharpens, getting louder than ever before.

She can't take this shit anymore.

He BEATS her.

He RAPES her.

Over.

And OVER...

... with his beautiful lies.

"I know every inch of her body."

And with knowing this, she barely lives a normal life. She can't even enjoy grocery shopping. With each squeak, the cart's wheels squeals a memory of her bloody screams as her Prince tries to kill her.

But he does not control her anymore with his beatings.

Now, he does it by twisting the living daylights out her nightmares.

He controls her.

And she continues to hold on.

Her soul runs naked with sorrow. God is constantly trying to cover His child with his clothe of warmth, love and forgiveness.

...but she refuses. And pulls the clothe off.

"I woke up one morning with bruises all over my legs. I looked at him, screaming 'WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?'"

Walking away, his laugh saws through her fragile soul.

Will this nightmare ever end? Or will she plunge into the fire of death beforehand?

monster laws

We all have a tiny monster inside of us.

Some of bigger than others. Some are more gruesome. Either way, that little monster has a way of interfering with our daily jobs. To live.

What is your monster? Is it lack of Confidence? Jealousy? Greed? Addiction? Self-hatred? Or is it the lack of Faith?

And where does these little monsters come from? It is unknown. We are born with them. And we die with them.

Some allow their tiny monsters to crawl and rest on their shoulders. Others gently keep their sinful friend snuggled in the deep blankets of their conscience.

Where is your frightful buddy? You better find that little monster...

before he kills you.

Or... are you the monster itself?

Cancer Man: Part 1

I walk through Detroit as a new man.

I have brain cancer. So what do I do now?

I know exactly what you are asking. Are you ready to die?
I know exactly what you are thinking too. Cancer patients cannot live a normal life!

That is absolutely right ladies and gents. We don't live normal.

WE LIVE BETTER.

My name is Reggie and I was diagnosed with brain cancer nine months ago.

Like seriously, what would you do if the doctors pranced into your hospital room and tried to smile and explain with some weird ass science terminology that you may die due to a disease that they cannot really treat.

damn.

But it is what it is, right?

Well, for me, I felt as if the world crashed, burnt over and turned into a grimy pile of ash. Yet, something suddenly risen. No, not Jesus. But a new life for me.

No, I didn't turn into some Superman dude. I just woke up and became more appreciative of life. And all that good stuff.

....but my story doesn't end that sweetly.

pretty. ugly.

God saved her again.

I know this one girl so well. She always thinks she is UGLY. But she's not.

In fact, she is drop dead gorgeous. Too deadly huh?

No one knows why she always thinks she is ugly. She is so beautiful. Her beauty is so delicious
...to taste.
...to steal.

The worst part of her beauty... it hides her fluttery fears and spicy sorrows. Scary.

Her beauty is so strong. No one sees through it to see her clammy calamity and achy agony.

Each blinding flash of her smile is a piercing scream.

She shivers from the lack of desire.
Lack of direction.
Lack of determination.

And the ghost of timidity trickles out daily out onto her pores and spreading, destroying her beauty's virginity.

That's all she sees. A disease. Of self-hatred.

At night, her cold tears curl up with her against her pillow while her wild emotions choke her until she passes out on her soiled bed of nightmares. Did she win?

Within hours, the morning sunshine's silent warmth playfully tickles her nostrils.

... God saves her. Again.

Her beauty bleeds misery. No one understands how she only has a fragile, microscopic strand of confidence inside of her. No one knows.

NO ONE CARES.

She is just too beautiful to feel this way.

Is she you?
Is she me?

the spirit of timidity

Because of it, we die.

We all have it...

We all suffer from it...

It's the shattered reflection of God's eternal love.

We all have a bit of the spirit of Timidity.

It's in our Mother Nature's wispy breath of air. In which we suckle on everyday.

It's sweet odour is toxic. As hell. And tears us apart from God.

Once inhaled, the spirit of Timidity seeps through our circulatory system, clinging onto our insides, clogging our arteries and gently attacks our vital organs. Our brains. Our hearts. Even our souls.

What do we need to do to get rid of this?

.... just pray.

Living

"Huh, what did you say?"

"Oh nothing. I was just praying..."

"You are always praying... like Evey 5 minutes."

"I have to. The next 5 minutes, I could be dead."

Life is seriously hard. But then again...

It's not.

People often confuse life with making money, meeting various soul mates, getting hitched and having a gazillion nappy headed babies. But it's not.

Life is simple.

In fact, Life is a miracle within itself. Claim it.

Life is somewhat like listening to the flowers bloom.

"What do you mean, Tammy? You cannot possibly hear a flower bloom."

But that's the thing, you can't listen with your ears. You must listen with your heart.

Believe it or not, that flower's beauty is screaming at people day and night. But the noise is not loud at all. We are too busy dancing though Life, complaining and choking with the spicy calamity of challenges that Life seems to throw us at nonstop.

Slow down and you may actually hear that flower bloom.

Some miracles aren't meant to hear with your fragile ears. They are heard simply by your soul.

Like God's whispers to our prayers.

Beauty of the Week

Just like AIDS, low self-esteem is killing our beautiful black women.

It is hard being a woman. Yet, it is harder being a black woman. It is so much pressure to this thing of being a strong black woman.

There are so many expectations of a black woman. It seems like we can't do anything right.

Fake Straight hair.
Ugly Natural hair.
Too skinny.
Too fat.
Skin too light.
Skin too dark.
Ass too flat.

Hmmmm....Am I missing anything?? These are the very thoughts that rape us of our true beauty.

It's like, I want to scream to the world, WHAT DO YOU WANT!?!?!

Today, I decided to work out. As the music's scent traveled through the stereo into my living room, I became aroused. It felt like I was making love to myself.

An amazing feeling, I must say.

As I stretched my muscles, it felt as though I was releasing the negativity that was knotted inside me.

That's when I realized my true beauty. I realized that I have a beautiful petite body, with tiny curves, rock hard abs, toned arms and a strong, gorgeous face.

Perhaps if more women worked out too, they would see their own beauty. And actually like it. Just a tiny bit, maybe.

I'm not saying work out to lose weight, but to lose that damn anxiety of not appreciating your body. If you don't, how could you expect someone else to do so?

Love yourself.

Aye my black queens....

....Let's stop dying.