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

Thinking about my Grandmother...

Saying goodbye when the time is too soon
grips u from the vessels of a healthy heart and weakens your loins
u often try to find the air to inhale and release happier breaths of hopeful tomorrows
the tears usually fall fiercely on shoulder blades so harsh tissues break easy
then like a glimmer of hope, memories surface and joy encompasses your soul
You remember to live and to hold on to your faith
You hold tight to your past
You forge strongly into your future with the embodiment of all the people who have past and left their legacy for you to carry on
But afraid bc you want to bear it proudly
No mistakes
Sorrowful you didn’t do more
Broken because you understand she understood
Unforgiving tendencies of self you search for love in all the wrong places
You battle the anecdotes of the "what if’s" you had more time and spent it better...
Hopeful that her love is strong enough to see pass your faults and she becomes your Angel!
Prayerful that one day it will get easier.
Praying for stillness in busy places and quiet in the midst of raging drums.



I miss you Mom Mom
In faith & struggle,
Love Donielle

IN THE MORNING...

A stretch as wide as the parting of the red sea...
I yawn...
And awaken ...
In the morning...
Daydreaming plays in the background and that sets my mindstate for the day...
Not too sure if what happens today is real...
I'm laughing...
I'm enjoying the sunshine in the cold weather.
I sip my coffee to perk up the soul...
And realize I already woke up with a song in my heart...
The melody is quite familiar...but the bass line sounds a tad off beat...
slightly irregular...
The drums snare is drowning the steady beat...
tatt...tatt.tatt..boom...
the clang of the cymbals remind me that there is still...
A CLASH...
A CLANK...
The music created isn't quite the composed sheet work to teach a beautiful auria to a string orchestra...
It was more like...
an argument between truth and reality...
And the blues of the vocalist's voice lied somewhere in the hook...
When i woke up in the morning...
And stretched...
I looked over to my right...
And I saw Hip Hop.
Our music... a state of uncertainty.
What did your record play...
In the morning...?

INSPIRATION

Please inspire ME.

Help me see the better in ME through YOU.
Pretend that I was the only ME left in the world that YOU could not live without.
Show ME that YOU can cover every puddle with your newest threads without second thought or doubt.

Inspire ME.

Keep ME wrapped so tight that YOU forget how to stretch your own arms.
Let ME explore the YOU traced like the lips kissed down to the butterfly on my back.
Surround ME with the likes of Goddess energy only the King in YOU can create.
Engulph ME.

Please inspire ME.

Fill ME with conversation so intriguing I forget who YOU were when we first met.
Grow with ME.
Confess to ME that YOU cannot breathe air unless I am in the vicinity.
Need ME more than I need YOU.

Inspire ME.

Teach ME how to smile the way YOU do.
Caress ME in the way that YOU want to.
Read to ME the stories of old lovers who spoke truths of relationships to YOU.

Inspire ME.


Remind ME that with YOU laughter cures heartache and tears.
Demand in ME to be the woman I promised YOU could depend on when time has taken its toll and worn you down.
Be Patient with ME when YOU know all the directions but I need to find my own way.


Please Inspire ME.


Begin to trust ME when the world has not been honest with YOU.
Take pride in ME for loving YOU only the way I know how.
Feel secure protecting ME even if YOU fall upon enemy lines.


Inspire ME.


Hold dear the letters to ME saved for YOU to reread if desires begin to fade.
Feel man enough to hide in ME when YOU have no where else to run.
Begin to find ME when the search YOU puzzled becomes a maze.


Inspire ME.


Captivate ME with the antics of barbershop banter YOU sit through every Saturday morning.
Express to ME how YOU wish to still be attracted to me when weary years grow us old.
Just indulge ME.


Inspire ME.

Inspire ME to love.

Inspire ME to love YOU.


Then Inspire ME to keep loving YOU when there is no inspiration left.


Simply,


Love ME.

Question of the Night: "Am I Ready For Love?"

So I'm sitting here vibing to India Arie and Musiq Souchild's duet Chocolate High and that overwhelming feeling that reminds me what it felt like when I was in love invades my stillness.

My eyes water because the memories are so vivid that I can feel your embrace and the scent of the oils you sparsely rubbed on your body after a shower perk my senses as if you were beside me.

It actually feels like those cold winter mornings and hot summer nights that seemed to be just fine days because we were in each others company.

I recall watching the same movie numerous times because we never got through it before one of us turned and wanted to look the other in the eyes and listen to our hearts act as if they needed each other to echo their beat.

Then I see remnants of old baggage that prevented growth and found the cement and brick to build that wall that has been torn down time after time.

I wonder if love was when you told me that you would never make me cry and never leave me but did both.

Was it the time that I waited for you to answer the door after heartfelt conversations about what the future would hold but was left to knock until the realization that you wouldn't answer...and couldn't answer hit?

Was it last week when I heard the words " you drive me crazy because I'm liking you more than I want to"?

The song "I am ready for love"; once a theme song , has become a question of doubt...

"Am I Ready For Love?"

"When did you fall in love with Hip-Hop?"

I know it's cliche' but I decided to finally answer the question truthfully. By now the majority of us has seen the movie "Brown Sugar" starring Sanaa Lathan who plays the character of Sydney Shaw.

Quite like Sydney Shaw, I proclaim to be a young professional; single and in touch with Hip - Hop. Like Sydney, I have had thriving friendships with the likes of the "Dre's" (Andre' Ellis); played by Taye Diggs.

That therein leads me to the answer to the most popular asked question of every hip-hop artist by music journalist..."When did you fall in love with Hip - Hop?"

Here's my answer...


The sweet melody of rhythm and blues has helped rock-a-bye baby me to sleep,
singing along with the sultry sounds of songbirds aged like fine wine.
Adorned in purple and white robes in choir pews and church balconies,
belting of amazing graces and one sweet morning,
A sense of love grew for the art of music.
Years later,
teenage troubles surpassed and womanhood presented...
the bass was so loud,
even through slammed suite doors it kept me from sleep.
Moments of rest were invaded by the noise across the hall;
speakers to combat with stadium space filled the tiny room and seeped into the feathers of my pillow.
When I couldn't dream of anything soft and tender because the beat led me to nod and agree, and fall in suit...
Hip - Hop became the faceless character in the storyline that numbered endless sheep and cows over moon beams.
For in time those dreams became reality and Hip Hop engulfed my soul.
The lyrics permeated my heart and I could no longer fight the urge;
an addict for the strength behind the message,
a feign for the pencil tap tabled for a cafeteria cipher amongst the crew,
a dry sponge ready to soak up the essence of call and response and griot story telling techniques underlined with a beat;
It was fresh like ground pepper tickling my nose and adding flavor and a hint of spice.
The record player spun tunes that helped me escape from Broad Street to Brooklyn in a matter of minutes.
Mornings opened slits in my eyes; listening to the "slummest of villages" and "blackest of stars",
being called "the perfect verse over the flyest beat",
That's when I became the "Brown Skin Lady" that fell in love with Hip - Hop.
That phenomenal feeling that allows inhibitions to drop and sends a pulse through vessels connected to the soles of a dancer's feet through the soul;
reciting lines of modern day Guru's of rhythmic prowess,
Hip - Hop taste like sweet nectar of Georgia peaches;
like Lay's potato chips...not sufficed by just one bite.
Evolving from "easy conversation" to robust arguments of defiance;
fists in the air rallying against the times,
fighting the good fight before waving white flags,
realists split from candyland games and became MC's while opponents were stuck on the block before collecting two hundred dollars and passing go.
Faded melodies and lessened 16's became archived,
focus blurred from shiny bling,
I search for shades to maintain unwavering following...
searching for the sound that once bought me to your door to eventually close it,
yet opening my heart to experiencing my first love...
Hip Hop.

I miss you.

Copyright2009

Reply to "Did you ever believe it could happen" Email about Obama

People,

As I sit and listen to Sen. Clinton's Exit speech, and reading through various emails, my father sent this to me. I just want to remind you all that this is such a pivotal time in history literally.... Sen. Clinton is urging her supporters to now back the potential 1st African American man that we may soon be calling the President of the United States! I urge you all to endorse who you see as the best fit and take a minute and reflect on how major this is! If you have sons, I charge you to explain what is really happening and remind them that they too can be a Presidential candidate! It's short of amazing! If you have daughters, I give you the same charge! Encourage them and remind them that they can also be a candidate to run a Nation. This campaign has broken down so many stereotypes of race and gender in the country!

Take a moment and let that manifest! Think of the civil rights marches and suffrage movements and visualize the torment that those men and women faced to just make a small footprint in this journey that we are all now seeing come to fruition! Let's not make their blood, sweat and tears be in vain. Please VOTE and stay in the "know" of the campaign.

Overwhelmed in a Phenomenal Way!

Stay Beautiful.
Donielle C. Jones

Let me know your thoughts.

Fw: Did you ever think you'd live to see the day?

(click the link for pics)

Obama: 75,000+ in Portland PORTLAND , Ore. -- Sen. Barack Obama has seen his share of large crowds over the last 15 months, but his campaign said they have not approached the numbers gathered along the waterfront here right now.The campaign, citing figures from Duane Bray, battalion chief of Portland Fire & Rescue, estimated that 75,000 people are watching him speak.http://blog.washingtonpost.com/the-trail/2008/05/18/record_obama_crowd_the_size_of.html

WHERE IS YOUR T-SHIRT NOW?

DID U HAVE YOUR FIST IN THE AIR AND YELL FOR EQUALITY AND SHOUT FOR FREEDOM WEARING YOUR "I'M BLACK AND I'M PROUD" TSHIRT...

WALKING THROUGH THE CROWDS ON WASHINGTON'S DOORSTEPS... BOASTING THAT YOU WERE ONE OF THE MILLION STRONG...

NUMBERED BUTTONS , POSTERS AND TSHIRTS THAT READ "I WAS THERE"?

...THEN THERE WERE SIX...THE JENA 6... AND YOU MARCHED, AND RALLIED..A NEW AGE FIGHT.

DID U SEND AN EMAIL, BLOG OR ESSAY...AND PURCHASE A "FREE THE JENA 6" T-SHIRT TO SHOW SUPPORT?

DID U DONATE, AIDE, OR PRAY FOR THE BROTHERS & SISTERS OF NEW ORLEANS AND BEAR THE FAMOUS "GEORGE BUSH DOESNT CARE ABOUT BLACK PEOPLE" T-SHIRT AFTER HURRICANE KATRINA TORE FAMILIES APART LIKE OLE MASTERS SLAVE TRADE?

IN YOUR DRAWERS DO YOU HAVE A "FREE ANGELA DAVIS" OR "FREE MUMIA" T-SHIRT TUCKED AWAY WITH TIME?

WHERE IS YOUR T-SHIRT NOW?

Donielle Jones 2008copyrighted