BlooWriter
This blog is mostly about my poetry but it also includes my rants and raves,life issues and so on hence it's title. My life as everyone elses is a complicated hodge podge of circumstances and life issues. I am a woman, a mother and a poet/writer trying to find my way creature of life, so it is all relative and crazy. I am honored that you have found a way into my crazy life. You are here...WELCOME TO BLOOVILLE!!
Quote Me....
" Life is a journey not a destination"
Thursday, March 25, 2010
It's ALL about the SHOES!!
For as long as I can remember It has been about the shoes. Shoes and bags. Well for as long as I can remember as an adult with the ability to buy her own shoes. As a child growing up in Washington heights with a single working mother shoes were not the shit. Furniture,that was mami's thing. To this day I don't know how a single mother of three had the ability or money to switch furniture as often as my mom did. We would go to school and come home to see brand new furniture in the house. Thank goodness none of us were blind cause shit!! Hellen Keller would have been screwed! We would have had more bruises than the ones she put on us herself. Anyhow back to shoes. Mom dressed well of course but brands weren't her thing so that wasn't a lesson I learned until made my own money and was single myself. Until then my greatest love ( still is) had been books, my books however had always been free. I had been a library lover all my youth. Still am except now I buy my own libros and treasure them as I do my children, afterall every writer should. My shoe affair began a few years ago with a pair of sling backs from Macys at a whopping 100.00 which for me was a million dollars but yes I got them on sale and that was the hook! I never thought I could get such good shoes at such good prices. Now about 80 pair of shoes later I am a regular shoe diva. These are the latest which I got in two colors. And bags? Let's not even go there now. Suffice it to say 50+ would cover it. I recently got my first coach bag and I'm scurred! Eeek! Not that as long as I can afford it it would ever change hee hee....
BlooWriter
BlooWriter
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Ghetto Factor...
Ghetto
Is there a place fir the ghetto in me when I get angry?
Yes!
Do I always use it.
No.
But is there a place and a people for it
Certainly.
There are people who respond to nothing but ghetto
There are those who can't communicate any other way. I have my ghetto moments and it's usually with those who are much more "ghetto" than I.
I have an undetermined amount of anger in me. The rictor scale is still building numbers to get where I am and although I taper it there are moments when it takes all of me and converts me into a being that I choose not to control.
Of course depending on place and situation.
White people have been conditioned to deal with anger calmly but that calm is hidden rage which can easily develop into alcoholism, drug abuse or keeping your neighbor in the basement for twenty years.
The ghetto factor is something expressed imediately and released in rage then moved on. You blow up, curse it out, bring the smack down and let go.
Should we perhaps deal with it differently for the sake of developing into better people? Yes, maybe.
But at least for me there will always be that stupid, low down dirty motherfuckin trick that will make me loose it. Point blank.
Yes. I am quite articulate when I choose to be but within me the ghetto factor will always be. Not because I need it to be but because I want it that way
- BlooWriter
Is there a place fir the ghetto in me when I get angry?
Yes!
Do I always use it.
No.
But is there a place and a people for it
Certainly.
There are people who respond to nothing but ghetto
There are those who can't communicate any other way. I have my ghetto moments and it's usually with those who are much more "ghetto" than I.
I have an undetermined amount of anger in me. The rictor scale is still building numbers to get where I am and although I taper it there are moments when it takes all of me and converts me into a being that I choose not to control.
Of course depending on place and situation.
White people have been conditioned to deal with anger calmly but that calm is hidden rage which can easily develop into alcoholism, drug abuse or keeping your neighbor in the basement for twenty years.
The ghetto factor is something expressed imediately and released in rage then moved on. You blow up, curse it out, bring the smack down and let go.
Should we perhaps deal with it differently for the sake of developing into better people? Yes, maybe.
But at least for me there will always be that stupid, low down dirty motherfuckin trick that will make me loose it. Point blank.
Yes. I am quite articulate when I choose to be but within me the ghetto factor will always be. Not because I need it to be but because I want it that way
- BlooWriter
Sunday, March 21, 2010
WHITE COTTON PANTIES...
What greater prize
Can I ask for between these thighs
Than my pretty pretty flower
Makes you hard Beg, steal
Rub my feet for hours
You think a fine ass man is a pussy magnet
Is that what pulls the cooch
Well pussy hair pulls tug boats baby
Ain’t that the fuckin truth
We all know Peter piper would have been better off
Pickin pussies than peppers
After-all Mary was quite content Having a little clam
Just like my man
White cotton panties that’s what he likes
What bug out his eyes Along with the cream that comes down my thighs
when they shift along my ass
Half on my round cheeks
Half between the crack
Its all about that hairy cherry Freddy
And all the shit it makes you do
I tell you if that chocha spoke
You'd be listening like an apostle
And preaching for it too
You'd lie for it die for it
Pay out the ass if its new And you haven’t tried it
It’s the type of trap That can carry the clap
When you’d rather it clap around you
The kind of shit that can make a nigga spit
Even sing a lyric or two
That little up and downs song only he can sing
Red bull got nothin on these wings
Exercise it ladies
Keigle keeps it tight
Hell if we work that shit right
You'll be cummin every night.
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