Every now and then you run across a quote that describes your feelings in one word, one line, one sentence, or paragraph! This is such a quote! On Facebook, there is an application called "Message From God" Every day my message is ON POINT! Today was no exception!
"God wants you to know that the way you know you have found the right one is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with the person. Having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them...keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away. - a quote by Dinah CraikSee More"
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Melancholy and Tired of The Violence
Today my mood is somber as I reflect on the many murders and attempted homicides the North Tulsa community has seen over the past few months.
Wrong place wrong time
Somebody dropped a dime
And retaliation
Caused aggravation to mentalities that weren’t right to begin with.
Someone made a conscious decision to pull a trigger
Maybe they figure the gun will never point in their direction?
The circle of violence must end!
Untitled
By Ebony Farashuu
08/05/10
They want us to kill ourselves
Fill those cells
Run and tell that
Ratta tat tat
Curiosity killed the cat
While a list of so-called rats
Spreads like poison through the community.
Do you see what I see?
Another Hearse
Another bible verse
Spoken over one man
Killed by another man
While the other man
Smiles and says
“Well done, son.”
Run, Nigga, run
The threads of our fabric are becoming undone
Unraveled
as somebody’s somebody lays face down on the gravel
While a Judge’s gavel echoes through the hood…
Wrong place wrong time
Somebody dropped a dime
And retaliation
Caused aggravation to mentalities that weren’t right to begin with.
Someone made a conscious decision to pull a trigger
Maybe they figure the gun will never point in their direction?
The circle of violence must end!
Untitled
By Ebony Farashuu
08/05/10
They want us to kill ourselves
Fill those cells
Run and tell that
Ratta tat tat
Curiosity killed the cat
While a list of so-called rats
Spreads like poison through the community.
Do you see what I see?
Another Hearse
Another bible verse
Spoken over one man
Killed by another man
While the other man
Smiles and says
“Well done, son.”
Run, Nigga, run
The threads of our fabric are becoming undone
Unraveled
as somebody’s somebody lays face down on the gravel
While a Judge’s gavel echoes through the hood…
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
EMOTIONAL WASTELAND? This too shall pass...
Every now and then thoughts spill onto paper so fast that poetry has no rhyme, reason, or specific pattern. Poetry, like emotions can be running all over the place and yet be standing still at the same time. Whenever I have thoughts that can't be verbalized, I write them down, exactly as I feel them at that particular time. Sometimes it appears to makes sense to only me...but that is the beautiful thing about poetry...when you write from the heart...anyone in the same frame of mind will understand.
Sometimes you have to step back, evaluate every relationship you've ever been in, and then put into yourself everything that you put into another person. There is nothing wrong with expecting someone to love you the RIGHT way. If you truly LOVE yourself...and if someone can't love you with the same fervor in which you love yourself...The same fervor with which you love THEM? Why bother? Let them go and hold out for a love that deserves YOU.
Wasteland
By Ebony Farashuu
07/07/10
My body feels empty
Tears echo as they fall
Drip
Drip
Drip
Tiny droplets causing ripples that will forever change the ocean of my life.
The strife that dwells within me is constantly struggling with the logic of my mind
My heart is blind to the truth
Uncouth in its wicked deception
There is no contraception
That protects from unwanted despondency
My soul has been impregnated.
Damn I hate it when
My tough girl has fallen and I can’t pick her up.
My stagnant thoughts long to make my shell tougher
Exercise my ventricular muscles so my heart will be buffer
Pull myself out of this emotional mud when I’m stuck…
Fool myself into believing I just don’t give a fuck.
Men claim they want me
But I can’t trust a try
Cuz there’s still no one here to hold me when I cry…
And I
Just
Want the world to stop.
Pause for a moment
Let me catch the breath that keeps escaping
I’m scratching and scraping at my throat
Struggling for air
I’m choking on love that was never even there...
He said, he said, he said
They said
They lied
Sentiments were implied
I tried to separate fact from fiction
But mind fucking friction
Caused their words to converge upon my mind
Forming a topiary garden of pretty little lies
I could have handled the truth.
Sometimes you have to step back, evaluate every relationship you've ever been in, and then put into yourself everything that you put into another person. There is nothing wrong with expecting someone to love you the RIGHT way. If you truly LOVE yourself...and if someone can't love you with the same fervor in which you love yourself...The same fervor with which you love THEM? Why bother? Let them go and hold out for a love that deserves YOU.
Wasteland
By Ebony Farashuu
07/07/10
My body feels empty
Tears echo as they fall
Drip
Drip
Drip
Tiny droplets causing ripples that will forever change the ocean of my life.
The strife that dwells within me is constantly struggling with the logic of my mind
My heart is blind to the truth
Uncouth in its wicked deception
There is no contraception
That protects from unwanted despondency
My soul has been impregnated.
Damn I hate it when
My tough girl has fallen and I can’t pick her up.
My stagnant thoughts long to make my shell tougher
Exercise my ventricular muscles so my heart will be buffer
Pull myself out of this emotional mud when I’m stuck…
Fool myself into believing I just don’t give a fuck.
Men claim they want me
But I can’t trust a try
Cuz there’s still no one here to hold me when I cry…
And I
Just
Want the world to stop.
Pause for a moment
Let me catch the breath that keeps escaping
I’m scratching and scraping at my throat
Struggling for air
I’m choking on love that was never even there...
He said, he said, he said
They said
They lied
Sentiments were implied
I tried to separate fact from fiction
But mind fucking friction
Caused their words to converge upon my mind
Forming a topiary garden of pretty little lies
I could have handled the truth.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
UNFORGIVING
The Unforgiving Heart
Miriam Webster defines Mercy as compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender or to one subject to one's power. Forgiveness is defined as the ACT of forgiving; to cease to feel resentment against an offender.
In my life, I’ve become so good at mercy that I totally suck at forgiveness. I’ve shown so much compassion, understanding, and leniency towards those who have hurt me…by the time I reach my limit, forgiveness is almost an unreachable goal. I’m working on it.
My normal process in dealing with people who have hurt me too many times is to completely delete them from my life. I delete your number from my cell phone. I break all online community ties and as a result, you cease to exist in my world. It’s not that I’m purposely trying to be mean, but once I’ve a decided a person has no purpose or meaning in my life…I see no point in allowing them to remain in my mental presence.
It’s not that I purposely ignore the people I have cut out of my life. I just can’t see them. They are no longer on my radar and if I happen to walk past someone without speaking it’s really not because I’m being a bitch…I truly can’t see someone once they cease to exist to me. Seeing that person is equivalent to seeing a stranger in the street and I either, nod my head and keep moving, or I just don’t speak at all.
I mean really…if we have no children together, don’t run a business together, or work together…why should I have any contact with you? That would just be ME allowing mercy to sneak up and bite me in the ass again right?
To date, there have only been a few people able to make it back into my good graces and it was because THEY pursued it…not me. It’s funny, because even the role those few individuals play in my life is a far lesser role than they held before they hurt me.
Self Preservation Rule #1: Never allow the same person to hurt you again.
I’ve learned that it is impossible for me to go into a relationship with an open heart and all defenses down. The last time I did that I was hurt so badly that my walls needed walls to keep the offender away.
This is a sad state of mind and I’m truly working on it…but until I can get a handle on it….my heart and my trust are on permanent lockdown.
I was once told that I should be able to just forgive and let it go instantly because that is what God has done for me. My honest answer is that I’m HUMAN, not God and things like that are a tad bit harder for me to achieve. Thank goodness my God also forgives me for this character flaw because without his mercy, I would have long ago ceased to exist in HIS eyes.
Have I just taught myself a lesson? Yes. I hear it. I understand it. Yet find it hard to receive…. Maybe tomorrow.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Where in the World Is D'Angelo?
Where in the world is D’Angelo?
No, really. I want to know. After watching the “Untitled (How Does It Feel) video for the seventeenth time in a row, I think its only fitting that I find out what happened to the man who caused me to lose my composure on multiple occasions by simply standing there…naked…with sweat dripping all over his body…
I’m sorry, what was I saying?
My pinky finger still smarts where I accidentally bit down on it as D’Angelo licked his lips for the fourth time. My eyes are watery because, for fear of missing something, I didn’t blink for the entire four minutes and twenty-eight seconds he was on the screen.
All kidding aside…actually, I’m not kidding, but I feel I should probably move on to the meat of my story before I get too distracted by the side dishes…
What happened to good music? What happened to FEELING a song instead of just singing it? What happened to songs that make you close your eyes and reminisce each and every time you hear them. Songs that, years later, you are amazed because you still know all of the lyrics?
Lyrics. What happened to lyrics that made you shiver while still leaving something to the imagination? Now, singers are licking you and sticking you, and making sure the neighbors know their name without even attempting to romance you out of your panties. Nothing is sacred. Instead of making love to your ears, they are just screaming about SEX. Excuse me, but when did SEX become a romantic word? Okay, unless you are talking about ‘Sex Therapy’ and in that instance, my man Robin Thicke gets a pass. Hell, he gets five passes and get out of jail free card, but I digress.
I don’t think I’m asking too much by requesting REAL MUSIC make a comeback. I don’t think I’m out of line by requesting lyrics be the forefront of a love song instead of just a banging beat and a hip-hop collaboration at the bridge.
D’Angelo… I humbly request your presence. You once asked your audience, “How does it feel?” Well, I’m here to tell you that, musically, things aren’t feeling too swift right now.
My name is Ebony Farashuu and these have been the random thoughts of a black butterfly.
No, really. I want to know. After watching the “Untitled (How Does It Feel) video for the seventeenth time in a row, I think its only fitting that I find out what happened to the man who caused me to lose my composure on multiple occasions by simply standing there…naked…with sweat dripping all over his body…
I’m sorry, what was I saying?
My pinky finger still smarts where I accidentally bit down on it as D’Angelo licked his lips for the fourth time. My eyes are watery because, for fear of missing something, I didn’t blink for the entire four minutes and twenty-eight seconds he was on the screen.
All kidding aside…actually, I’m not kidding, but I feel I should probably move on to the meat of my story before I get too distracted by the side dishes…
What happened to good music? What happened to FEELING a song instead of just singing it? What happened to songs that make you close your eyes and reminisce each and every time you hear them. Songs that, years later, you are amazed because you still know all of the lyrics?
Lyrics. What happened to lyrics that made you shiver while still leaving something to the imagination? Now, singers are licking you and sticking you, and making sure the neighbors know their name without even attempting to romance you out of your panties. Nothing is sacred. Instead of making love to your ears, they are just screaming about SEX. Excuse me, but when did SEX become a romantic word? Okay, unless you are talking about ‘Sex Therapy’ and in that instance, my man Robin Thicke gets a pass. Hell, he gets five passes and get out of jail free card, but I digress.
I don’t think I’m asking too much by requesting REAL MUSIC make a comeback. I don’t think I’m out of line by requesting lyrics be the forefront of a love song instead of just a banging beat and a hip-hop collaboration at the bridge.
D’Angelo… I humbly request your presence. You once asked your audience, “How does it feel?” Well, I’m here to tell you that, musically, things aren’t feeling too swift right now.
My name is Ebony Farashuu and these have been the random thoughts of a black butterfly.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
FULL CIRCLE
FULL CIRCLE
In their minds, I have failed them. Taken them from the only stable home they have ever known and thrust them into an environment where they feel alienated from the world as they know it. I excluded them from the process of moving, instead, sending them to their father as I dealt with all of the emotions and self loathing associated with emptying out the home I made for my family. I didn’t want them to see the furniture being carried out piece by piece. I didn’t want them to have to stand in the middle of their empty bedrooms and cry the way I cried when I realized that my children would never set foot in them again. I didn’t want them to see that the bench we loved to sit on was now gone from the front porch, the hummingbird feeder hanging as a sad reminder that we would no longer be able to attempt to sit completely still as our little friends fed right before our eyes before disappearing in a flurried flash.
I wanted to spare them. I should have prepared them.
I should have allowed them an opportunity to say goodbye to their home. I should have given them a chance to cry. I shouldn’t have opened the door to that apartment and prayed that they wouldn’t hate it, which they did, by the way.
Who can blame them? They have never had to worry about anything and yet I expect them to understand my struggle? I expect them to just accept the fact that they are leaving a 2,000 sq ft home for an 1100 sq ft apartment in a completely different school district? I can barely accept that and I’m thirty-seven years old!
I can’t bring myself to put the key to the apartment on my key chain yet. I can’t even wrap my head around calling it home. Last night, as I was leaving work, I made a wrong turn…heading towards the house instead of the apartment on the other side of town.
It doesn’t help that my laptop was stolen as I was moving things into the apartment on the FIRST DAY! My children feel like I’ve moved them into a ghetto. They aren’t used to having to lock the door between each trip to the car as you bring in groceries. I realize the world I raised them in wasn’t the real world according to their current reality. It is indeed, a culture shock.
They don’t remember the crappy apartment we lived in when they were babies. Even then, I made it a place that felt great to come home to. They only, truly remember the two houses they were raised in, the last being the place I thought I’d grow old in. I thought I’d sit on my bench, on the porch and read Shel Silverstein poetry to my grandchildren the same way I’d done with my son and daughter.
It’s a period of adjustment for all of us. However, I want my children to understand how fortunate they are. Yes, mama lost the house, but we aren’t living with family, we aren’t living in a shelter, we aren’t going without food, shelter, or love. We’re just going without the things WE considered necessities. Things like, internet access, cable, cabinet space, and room to get away from the family that we need to be clinging to right now.
Now is the time for us to truly become a family unit that spends more quality time together as opposed to all being in separate rooms doing separate things and watching separate televisions. Now is the time to say, ‘HEY, no televisions in the bedrooms, not even mine. No eating in the living room. Lets all eat at the table together while music plays instead of NBC, ABC, and CBS being our mealtime entertainment. Let’s just be…together…making lemonade out of the lemons being pelted at us right now.’ Let’s be happy and continue to praise GOD through it all. We can handle this. As long as we believe, when we look back on this time, we will see one set of footprints in the sand instead of four…He carries us, even when we feel abandoned.
This morning, as I drove to work, I thought about the irony of my situation. At the age of nineteen, I moved into the very apartment complex that I have now left my house for. This was my first venture out on my own and as a nineteen year old, I saw that my entire life was spread in front of me just waiting to happen. God has brought me back to the beginning. He has brought me full circle. He is giving me a do-over and this time, I get to show my children how to receive the blessings that are waiting for them if they just smile and see the joy our situation.
My name is Ebony Farashuu and these have been the Random Thoughts of a Black Butterfly…
In their minds, I have failed them. Taken them from the only stable home they have ever known and thrust them into an environment where they feel alienated from the world as they know it. I excluded them from the process of moving, instead, sending them to their father as I dealt with all of the emotions and self loathing associated with emptying out the home I made for my family. I didn’t want them to see the furniture being carried out piece by piece. I didn’t want them to have to stand in the middle of their empty bedrooms and cry the way I cried when I realized that my children would never set foot in them again. I didn’t want them to see that the bench we loved to sit on was now gone from the front porch, the hummingbird feeder hanging as a sad reminder that we would no longer be able to attempt to sit completely still as our little friends fed right before our eyes before disappearing in a flurried flash.
I wanted to spare them. I should have prepared them.
I should have allowed them an opportunity to say goodbye to their home. I should have given them a chance to cry. I shouldn’t have opened the door to that apartment and prayed that they wouldn’t hate it, which they did, by the way.
Who can blame them? They have never had to worry about anything and yet I expect them to understand my struggle? I expect them to just accept the fact that they are leaving a 2,000 sq ft home for an 1100 sq ft apartment in a completely different school district? I can barely accept that and I’m thirty-seven years old!
I can’t bring myself to put the key to the apartment on my key chain yet. I can’t even wrap my head around calling it home. Last night, as I was leaving work, I made a wrong turn…heading towards the house instead of the apartment on the other side of town.
It doesn’t help that my laptop was stolen as I was moving things into the apartment on the FIRST DAY! My children feel like I’ve moved them into a ghetto. They aren’t used to having to lock the door between each trip to the car as you bring in groceries. I realize the world I raised them in wasn’t the real world according to their current reality. It is indeed, a culture shock.
They don’t remember the crappy apartment we lived in when they were babies. Even then, I made it a place that felt great to come home to. They only, truly remember the two houses they were raised in, the last being the place I thought I’d grow old in. I thought I’d sit on my bench, on the porch and read Shel Silverstein poetry to my grandchildren the same way I’d done with my son and daughter.
It’s a period of adjustment for all of us. However, I want my children to understand how fortunate they are. Yes, mama lost the house, but we aren’t living with family, we aren’t living in a shelter, we aren’t going without food, shelter, or love. We’re just going without the things WE considered necessities. Things like, internet access, cable, cabinet space, and room to get away from the family that we need to be clinging to right now.
Now is the time for us to truly become a family unit that spends more quality time together as opposed to all being in separate rooms doing separate things and watching separate televisions. Now is the time to say, ‘HEY, no televisions in the bedrooms, not even mine. No eating in the living room. Lets all eat at the table together while music plays instead of NBC, ABC, and CBS being our mealtime entertainment. Let’s just be…together…making lemonade out of the lemons being pelted at us right now.’ Let’s be happy and continue to praise GOD through it all. We can handle this. As long as we believe, when we look back on this time, we will see one set of footprints in the sand instead of four…He carries us, even when we feel abandoned.
This morning, as I drove to work, I thought about the irony of my situation. At the age of nineteen, I moved into the very apartment complex that I have now left my house for. This was my first venture out on my own and as a nineteen year old, I saw that my entire life was spread in front of me just waiting to happen. God has brought me back to the beginning. He has brought me full circle. He is giving me a do-over and this time, I get to show my children how to receive the blessings that are waiting for them if they just smile and see the joy our situation.
My name is Ebony Farashuu and these have been the Random Thoughts of a Black Butterfly…
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