i wanna lie (a love poem)

like treasure i didn’t dare keep
i buried all thought of you deep
without an ‘x’ to mark the spot
my back turned walking away, i forgot

(or so i hoped)
but now i gotta try and cope
for after three months of ‘who is this’ tag
i must now recall you the lover I needed but never had

your tall frame chiseled by the ocean’s depth
leaving crumbs on the field in the wake of your football steps
i’d cut class and hang in the home ec walkway
just to see you breeze pass and smile my way

i heard it’s quite juvenile
high school crushes only last a brief while
but what my ears believed then
was everything your soul said

(and then there was your pretty mouth)
this island-girl swore them chocolate lips had to be imported from Up South
i dreamt all freshman year in college
about what i would learn upon return from their knowledge

my living by then had made me un-naturally shy and hesitant
my game was a bag of tricks to keep at bay anything pleasant
but that was all for naught
when i hopped on the pay bus and heard your silent shout

(for the first time, i was home again)
guards and gates gone, willing to explore anything
since thirteen i had wondered about me and you
and eighteen presented a chance for that to come through

the night before i didn’t think of sleep
i stayed in the mirror practicing how to speak
what to wear, how to do my hair, focus my eyes
even pondered make-up, knowing i despise that disguise

i shall and will always love Frederiksted
if not for Basket Ballers, then Queen Nita (who the Dutch still fear ain’t dead)
And that day there with You
gave me reason to fall in Love again and also hate it brand new

(but that was ma fault)
swallowing your lie, i missed the fact a fuck was all you sought
and back at the house that night
i was ashamed to look at the gifts you bought me which had given delight

i didn’t dare cry in that house for then i would be asked
and there was no one there who i trusted to tell how much of an ass
i had just spent five years making myself
so i laid the gifts to rest in a box in the garage on the bottom shelf

constantly then, constantly trying to avoid now
my mind wandered wondering how
helpless and hopeless, unable to figure out
why the un-welcomed stole it and the needed found it not a gift to hold about

twenty-five years is a mighty short while
for it was just yesterday, i stood outside that hotel lost in time
the waves on the rocks of that deep harbor splashing my mind
‘maybe love is not meant for you, chile.’

12/27/2009 5:42:26 PM©cindy adrienne quashie

A Found Poem

My Year in Status
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International Human Rights Day

"There is no peace, progress, prosperity if Human Rights are in pieces."

Miss Esther First GrandChile
- International Human Rights Day-

December 10, 2009 - Seattle, WA, AMERICA

iCELEBRATE WIKIPEDIA

no more is acquirable knowledge

limited to 22 world books

written in a language
whose alphabet has 36 letters.

#Quashie #Cuddjoe #Oualie

I make this look good

Life is A STRUGGLE
to get up STRUGGLE
to stay up STRUGGLE
against those who don't want you up STRUGGLE
against that keeping you down LIVE!

Am A Big Bitch on A Field infected with petty-pusses.*

I am prejudice and particular.

I do not keep company with those whose opposition to oppression is that they are not the oppressors.

And you know who you are.

you tend to be ever ready to jump down my throat at a moments notice then cry foul when I chomp your ass to bits


*Am not calm, cool or collected. Am bored.

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Chamillionaire Breaks Universal’s Rules So Fans Can Embed Music Video

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it is not those who spout the propaganda,
it is the believers of the propaganda
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"Most of us are middle aged before we even realize we had opportunities."
-Jason A. Nunnelly-

the wind is all around me, so i do not bother to notice it either.

do the owners and founding members of the club exclude those they consider their own kind, depending on circumstance,  (like killing off emancipated slaves who didn't expect to receive half a penny, much less a mule AND 40 acres of Their own Lands) YES!

but whose fault is it, that with 517 years of no share from the crops profits, that folks still walk around, whether taking advantage of Jim Crow or not,  still go around thinking they are 'white.?'

i am not in the club, so i must ask, isn't there someone who takes notes and sends out memos about the club's activities? if so, whose fault it was that  'whites'  did not get the memo.

and if there is no such person, whose fault is it, that when they missed the meeting where the spoils were divided up, they were not informed that that was on the agenda and 2 they did not set the 'whites' portions aside?

it is a convenience i am certain i cannot afford, when lqqking at white-identify and the privileges accorded such persons, to qualify and edit the truth trying to escape my being and breathe.  And the truth needed here calls for me and 'whites' to lqqk ourselves in the mirror.

i know the view aint pretty.  one lqqk was more than enough for me.  and that one lqqk i feel blessed to say was not done by me. but he or she would lqqked for me, surely did go blind.

for until i was able to come to balance the weight of the many systems of oppression and subjugation  throughout humanity's course of which ALL of humanity has at one time or another taken part AGAINST this all out assault on mother Earth and Her inhabitants, which i hope we can agree, commenced 10.12.1492.

there has been too much qualifying and shifting of blame instead of facing the Truth that 'white-identity and it's privileges reserved for 'whites' only, as defined by those who defined 'white,' did the following.

(and i do not mean to make light of the fact that their are souls on the line and The Earth's ability to bear humanity much longer at stake.0

but when lucy got kicked out of heaven, my ichibhan womanFren gave him a dime to call and she would pick him back up after he understood his place.

now that there happened when she first invented man. and taking thee holy text of 'white-identity 'king james version of the bible WITHOUt preface,' was more than 3000 years ago.

so for 2500 years, lucy been had that dime, in hell, traffic bum-rushing the place all day (aint no night in hell, aint no club hopping in hell, so fewls be jumping aiight, but not to the beat of any rhythm, lucy aint with none that bullshitting down there.  not when he gotta spend the rest of eternity in time-out)

BECAUSE on 10.12.1492, when he saw come-buss-us wash ashore, he called heaven to say

'God, they are not with me, i am not with them, i do not know them, we have never been introduced and could you please invented hell 2.0 for i do not want them coming here thinking they going to build any city near my lake of fire and spoiling my view for the backyard.'

is after, lucy hung up, he cried out

OH HOLY FUCK! i forgot to ask if i come home.

so reaching into his pocket, he then turned hell upside down lqqking for his dime.

that afternoon was the first time, the rain ever fell whule the sun shined for in hell, 'de devil dung dey a band he wife' because she had just told him, dear, you used it to call God and disassociated yourself with that nebuchadnezzar of all babylons. chris about to buss them all with.

This Our Ground!

hurricane wadadli

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