It's Refreshing...

I wrote this article back in 2009 about a boy. Yup, he was a boy - not quite a man at that time. And while it didn't end the way I wanted it to... I wasn't afraid at this time to be vulnerable.   Now that it's 2013, two months into the year, approaching Valentine's Day, I am experiencing some of the same feelings with someone but this time I hope it's different.  There is a friendship that allows me to be me.  When I poke out my bottom lip or sit in silence, I'm not always catered to.  And that to me is important.  If you do everything to make sure that I think you are right for me, then you aren't being yourself.  I am not right all the time and challenging me shows that you have a mind of your own and that you will be able to step in when its time to make decisions for me when I might not be able to.  The dating game is just that - it's a game - but I'm learning life lessons daily.  Whether its learning patience, learning to apologize, accept the things I cannot change, or being there to listen, it's new.  And for now it's actually - through the few tears and headaches, ups and downs, time spent apart... it's refreshing.  It's not quite a relationship but the friendship that is being established is one of respect and has a foundation of raw realness which isn't usual but ... it's exactly what I need right now. So, because I'm learning to keep the personal things to myself, especially when it comes to growing relationships...I won't share the poems I've written recently...but will share some from the past.  Enjoy!

It's Refreshing...

By Donielle Jones



It’s refreshing!

He calls it a breath of fresh air…

I call it giving in and letting the “it” factor occur.

It’s opening your third eye to see that maybe at this moment you are supposed to be breathing..

You are supposed to be inhaling his theories of life and listening to hear his soul through the beat of his drum…

Tick, tick, clack…the snare; the clang of his cymbal is supposed to awaken and enlighten the you once reflected in mirrors that looked like the Goddess you were born to be.

My pharaoh 09’, ironic…met in the ICE age, slept on leopard prints, in a cave, surrounded by the drawings of a history’s past.

Could this be…so soon to believe in love…but I’ll be damn if I can’t say it…

But he’s SIMPLY and Complex…balled up into a mold of…AHHHHH ( exhale ) REFRESHING!

Spitting knowledge kings can’t teach their sons, living a past not proud but learned forward movement from…

Not built to be incarcerated, mind , body, or soul,

Imprisonment of one’s mind; is not his story told.

I heard the sound of pure poetic justice and layed hands on flesh thinking of just – us…

His whispers of tomorrows promise, his sullen deep voice bassed my belly…as he fed me with his gift…of words that is.

And I listened beyond my ears and took notes to align on this staff to compose a song so rich, pyramid’s gold couldn’t touch.

The energy, so strong I forgot he was not in the room until I opened my eyes…and massaged my fingers…

Because he inspired a melody that caused me to play ALL my keys in A-minor…

Not an easy note, but with precise instruction could b the start of a masterpiece!

My eyelids heavy from time lit by gazing stars…

Goodnight does not end our conversation because tomorrow is today…

“‘Round midnight”…

His John Coltrane to my Jill Scott…

I hope we continue tomorrow…

I want to make music.

To Write A Poem...

To write a poem...
To let the thoughts of the "moment"
dictate the penmanship of your voice...
To allow the vulnerabilities of your bic
scroll the lyrics of the song in your tongue...
To intertwine fantasy, facts and whimsical anecdotes with a stanza...
To present the broken pieces of your heart in questions
to a sea of listening eyes and insightful ears...
The magic that is created when sonnets are married with the passion of a poets power...
Their voice -
a story to be told;
a memory captured on the blue faced lines of that dollar store black and white marble composition book.
A book nonetheless of history,
filled with present day facts and occurrences, sometimes even realities of happenstance,
but still a chance...
To write a poem...
to free the words imprisoned in your soul.
Laying it all on the line,
exploring metaphors,
and making that final phrase mean something ,
while trying to find the rhyme.
All just trying...
to write a poem!

I still...

My chest is tight.
I struggle to catch my breath from running out the picture;
the way our love gallivanted away...
careening into the night...
leaving me in the dark-
alone-
wondering if you will ever come back.
Those words get caught in my throat.
They tie up my vocal chords,
choking the thought of their existence,
remembering how my lips formed to speak our spoken truths of love in its purest form.
Young-
innocent-
half crazy-
full of laughter-
carefree caresses-
dorm room dreams of future tomorrows.
Gut wrenching nightmare interrupt fairytaled fantasies of what could have been?
If you're happy now?
...If she sings with the fierceness I have...
gathering strength from the pinkie toes to the vessels of my heart;
the stronghold of your toughest hair follicle,
locs of love cut away with growth-
and time-
and remembrance.
The universe played our record until God's nail scratched its surface
and our season ended.
I won't forget.
I can't...forget.
I'm different because of US.
I love LONG-
and HARD-
and REALLL-
annnnnnd SMART.
I still...
think...
I need...you?
I still...
love you?

(inspired by listening to Jill Scott live "He Loves Me")
http://www.youtube.c...om/watch?v=p6jo1giiD6U

LISTEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LISTEN.
I AM AFRAID OF YOU
BUT I WANT YOU TO HEAR ME
I WANT WHAT I HAVE TO SAY TO BE SO TOUCHING THAT ANGELS CAN REST FLUTTERING WINGS,
SO HOT THAT BUTTER MELTS ON POPCORN LIKE THEATER SNACKS CLOGGING YOUR ARTERIES, STOPPING YOUR HEART;
ATTACKING YOUR INSIDE SO YOUR STOMACH TURNS BECAUSE THE TRUTH I WANT YOU TO HEAR IS UNCOMFORTABLE…
I STAND IN MIRRORS WONDERING IF WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME YOU CAN SEE THE REFLECTION OF IMAGES OF SOMETHING OTHER THAN THE BIGGER SIDE OF ME AND HEAR THE DRAGON SPIT FIRE THAT BURNS MY OWN TONGUE YEARNING TO BOUNCE OFF WALLS AND IN EARDRUMS TO WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTIES AND BEAUTIFY UGLY DUCKLINGS!
I AM AFRAID OF YOU
BUT I WANT YOU TO HEAR THE WAY SONGS SHAKE MY SPIRIT AND SEND QUAKE SHATTERING TREMBLES THROUGH MY EARTHS;
HOW THE TRICKLING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAUCET RACES THE SECOND HAND ON MY WRIST WATCH AND FORCES ME TO EXCITEDLY GRAB MY PEN AND BEGIN TO WRITE BECAUSE THESE MOMENTS CAN DISSIPATE WITHIN SECONDS AND TOMORROW MIGHT BE TOO LATE.
I WANT YOU TO HEAR HOW THE BOOKS I’VE READ HAVE SPARKED FIREWORKS OVER OPERA HOUSES IN AUSTRALIA ON NEW YEARS AND CAUSED WILDFIRES IN CALIFORNIA;
I WANT YOU TO HEAR HOW MUCH LOVE I HAVE INSIDE TO SHARE; SURROUNDED BY MOUNDS OF CANDY BARS AND TASTY CAKES IN MY BELLY AND THE VOLUPTUOUS VIRTUES THAT LAY UPON MY CHEST CLOSE TO MY HEART; BUT FAR FROM YOU BECAUSE I AM AFRAID OF YOU.
I AM AFRAID YOU WON’T UNDERSTAND THAT I SLEEP WITH MY TV ON AFRAID OF THE DARK BECAUSE IN MY SLEEP I HAVE NO CONTROL OF MY DREAMS AND I’D RATHER STAY AWAKE TO WORK ON ACHIEVING MY GOALS AND MAKING MORE OF MY TOMORROWS THAN ANY NIGHT OF REST CAN BRING.
I WANT YOU TO HEAR THE RHYTHM OF MY BREATH…
INHALING THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS AND EXHALING THE PRESSURES OF HATE AND RACISM.
I WANT YOU TO HEAR BEYOND THE DIPLOMA AND EXPECTATIONS SCHOOLED FOR CENTURIES IN CLASSROOMS DESIGNED TO PUT A GRADE ON HOW WELL YOU CAN CONFORM, PLACING QUOTAS ON RACE AND RETAINING A ONE SIDED PERSPECTIVE OF HISTORICAL DATA INSTEAD OF SEPARATING THE LIES OF HIS-STORY IN AMERICAN HISTORY;
I WANT YOU TO HEAR ME BUT I AM AFRAID OF YOU.
I WANT YOU TO HEAR WITH YOUR FINGERTIPS SO WHEN YOU LEAVE ME YOU CAN TOUCH SOMEONE WITH HEALING WORDS AND UNDERSTAND HOW POWERFUL I CAN BE;
BREAKING DOWN BARRIERS OF IGNORANCE AND CRUMBLING STEREO TYPES LIKE THE BRICKS OF THE BERLIN WALL, PIECE BY PIECE PUSHING THROUGH CROWDS OF BARKING DOGS AND FIRE HOSES , STOPPING MOVING MOUNTAINS AND RELISHING IN THE REALITY THAT I AM A POET AND I WANT YOU TO HEAR ME.
I WANT YOU TO LISTEN SO CLOSELY YOU CAN HEAR THE SILENT CRIES OF MOTHERS WHO ARE LOSING THEIR SONS AND DAUGHTERS TO WAR AND LISTEN TO HEAR THE BROKEN HEARTS OF BABIES WHOSE FATHERS DON’T WANT TO STEP UP TO THE PLATE OF RESPONSIBILITY BUT FEED ENOUGH CHARM TO LAY LADIES ON BACKS AND NEVER CARED TO LOOK BACK.
I WANT YOU TO HEAR ME BUT I AM AFRAID OF YOU.
I AM AFRAID THAT YOU WILL NEVER GET IT; YOU WILL NOT MEET ME AT THE PLACE WHERE TORTOISES DON’T RACE HARES BECAUSE THERE IS NO MORAL TO THE STORY TOLD AND JUST THE REALITY THAT SOMEONE WILL ALWAYS BE FASTER THAN YOU AND SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO LOSE TO REALIZE YOU ARE NOT ON TRACK…
I AM AFRAID OF YOU BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU TO FORGET WHO I AM AFTER I REMIND YOU THAT SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE ME STILL WANTS YOU TO PAY FOR MY GREAT - GREAT GRANDMOTHER’S COTTON PRICKED FINGERTIPS AND THE WELTS ON GRANDPAS BACK…
I AM AFRAID OF YOU.
I AM AFRAID YOU WILL PUT ME IN A BOX AND NOT HEAR PAST THE QUIET STORM BREWING IN MY VOCAL CHORDS, BELTING THAT I AM HERE… I WANT YOU TO HEAR ME…BUT I AM AFRAID OF YOU SO “I WILL WRITE LOUD ENOUGH FOR YOU TO HEAR THE SOUL OF MY INK SPILL FROM THE MOUTH OF MY PEN!”
LISTEN.

City of Brotherly Love?

My mom told me about another brother slain by the hands of another yesterday
Another family member
A mother’s son
A daughter’s father
Another brother now left without a father in this lovely City of Brotherly love.
Last night bullets rang in my driveway louder than the resonance of the Liberty bell
Makes me wonder if the crack’s story is an urban legend and it just wasn’t grazed by the bullet of another brother’s gun!
In a city where tourist purchase tshirts and buttons and pose under the LOVE sculptures,
Brothers are dying by the hands of other brothers!
In a city where the last two elected Mayors have been brothers…
Brothers what are you doing to stop these senseless crimes?
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” is like a joke to brothers from a time warped New Jack City movie where loyalty was non existent and fear based…
But when does your heart get heavy enough to fight for love…brother.
You cannot love the fact that your wife fears her child playing in a green-less playground with one broken swing and bullet shells, brother…
Can you truly say you are okay with your sons staying in buildings for recess in neighborhoods where drive-bys rattle classroom windows and teachers are more afraid of students and teaching comes secondary to discipline?
Brother when will you love your City enough to take it back?
When will you break the vicious cycle that is plaguing the city;
Effecting the younger generation of brothers worse than deaths from the HIV epidemic!
Wake up brothers!
The babies you are making will one day grow up and have to live in the sins of their fathers!
Brother your reality should be your benchmark to exceed far beyond the low percentages presented in your present…
When will you stop making excuses for what “the man” did and take ownership of your place in the Universe…
How about just starting here…in your beautiful City of Brotherly Love!

Haunting Me (inspired by Elle's "Haunting" Single)

The mattress sunk as I felt you begin to crawl from the bed post
…and hover over me like smoke clouds.
I took a deep breath, and the scent of your cologne sent chills down my back…
It felt like your fingertips took a walk down my spine…
Yearning for your touch one last time…
But then I’m reminded you stopped believing in us when I awake to an empty space
Alone
Haunting Me
Alone in a space where memories cling to satin sheets
Sliding through time
Like love songs rolling off tongues
And nape of the neck kisses that took my breath away…
Smelling your essence tucked in my pillow case…
Your side of the bed lay lifeless…
Empty…
Reminding me…
Haunting me…
I’m alone.
You stopped believing in you and me
In us
So please…
Stop haunting me!

TICK...TOCK... ( Another Short Stack)

COME ON BROTHER
SHOW ME WHAT YOU ARE HITTIN FOR
GOT POCKETS DEEP ENOUGH TO BUY ME THE WORLD
BUT A SOUL SO EMPTY I CAN'T EVEN FILL U...FEEL ME!
U RIDIN IN THE CAR OF MY DREAMS
PIMPED OUT RIDE...RIMS SO BIG YOU CAN SEE YA REFLECTION
BUT CAN U REALLY SEE YA REFLECTION.
SO TRANSPARENT YA RIMS KEEP MY MIND SPINNIN MORE THAN YA CONVERSATION DOES...
SO PLEASE DONT WASTE MY TIME
TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK