Twisted,
My heart, my emotions, my belief of who I thought I was who I wanted to be
For now I am incomplete in my eyes and it makes me question was I ever complete or was this image of me a lie
Crazy,
Thoughts of passion, and complex positions floods my mind turning me inside out making my head pound and my body shiver with pent up frustration and impossible situations.
Wrong,
To feel, to seek, To want, to crave, to hurt, to lust, to desire, to be bold, to take, to build, to hunger, to lose faith…to lose faith
I am a sea of turbulence, a finger painting gone horribly wrong, unable to function without the answers to my questions.
Why me? Why are you here? Why now?
I understand that destiny has played a cruel joke, and perhaps I am suppose to learn from this and let go, but my gut is twisted, my mind is crazy and my feelings are wrong.
I am simply a mess.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
The Introduction
DARREN
My ears are burning, my nose is running and I feel like the biggest idiot in the world standing on this subway platform. Why am I here? What the hell was I thinking flying all the way to Toronto? I should have taken a cab to her office, but no. This was what she wanted. What we talked about time after time. People bundled up in heavy puffy coats were giving me strange looks. I know what they’re thinking and I don’t blame them one bit. This cashmere overcoat I threw on is barely keeping my butt warm. Damn, I hate cold weather. I run my fingers over my earlobes. I can’t feel a thing. You see, this is why I moved to Miami. Nothing, but sunshine and beaches all year round. Sure there is the occasional hurricane and heavy rain…wait…I see you. You’re standing just a few feet away from me. Your lips are curved in to a cute little smile. I exhale deeply and make my approach. How are you doing, I ask. You look at me. Take in my essence. Your smile widens. Fine, you reply. How are you? I say I’m cool now that I am in the presence of such a beautiful woman like yourself. My morning is going great. You smile. I ask where you are on your way to. I watch your eyebrows rise. You have no idea why I am intruding in your world. You think I’m a stranger. To work, you reply. Cool, me too I added, but only kidding. The train finally arrives. We jump on. It’s crowded standing room only, so we stand together our jackets almost touching, me inhaling your fresh morning scent. I am mesmerized by your eyes; your pictures don’t do them justice. What street are you exiting at, I inquire. I watch your full lips form each word. This is my stop, you say. I say cool, mine is next. What a coincidence we’re going to the same area. You smile. You kind of remind me of someone I hear you say. Who, I ask, trying to conceal my smile. You shake your head and whisper, never mind. It’s not possible. I smile because you are only half right. Your stop approaches. You look into my eyes one more time, smile and step away as the doors open. Hey I say, what’s your name? Asia, you yell, what’s yours? Darren I respond. I smile as I watch your eyes widen in surprise. The door closes and the train speeds off.
ASIA
My heart knocks against my rib cage as the train eases away from the platform. Oh my god! It can’t be him, but yet I can’t move. People are pushing and bumping me out of there way, but I barely notice. What do I do? Was it really him? It couldn’t be. But before I wait for the next train. As I board it, my heart begins to race, my palms start to sweat and I absently rub them on my thighs. The train stops at the next station. I exit and stand nervously on the platform. As the morning crowd thins, I look around. I can barely breathe. I watch as the morning commuters head up the stairs and escalators; anxiously waiting because I know this is where I'm suppose to be. Something magical is suppose to happen here…I can feel it. This is where it all begins…but nothing happens. Eagerly, I glance around the almost empty platform, and just as the doubt begins to crawl into my heart...I hear you say...What took you so long? On shaky legs I turn towards you and say...I wasn't sure it was you...You take a closer step. I can smell your cologne, feel your heat, hear your heart...or is it mine. So how did you know you ask? Reaching down I take your hand touching you for the very first time. Your voice I say…My body knows your voice.
DARREN
You’re surprised. I can see it in your eyes. You shaved, you say eyeing my goatee. An appreciative smile dances on your lips. I guess I could have sent you a recent picture, but I wanted to surprise you. Remember, what we talked about before, I quizzed. I watch as your eyes widen in shock and uneasily look around. You nod slowly. Are you still heading to work, I ask. You nervously bite your lower lip. No, you reply after awhile. I’m spending the day with you, you say. I pull you close and inhale your scent. I trace the strong curve of your face with my finger. Caramel…your skin is the colour of creamy caramel…and I bet you taste just as good, if not better. We get back on the train and head over to the Lavier Spa and Resort talking the whole time as if this was any ordinary day. But as we book the room, you become strangely quiet. One day, I whisper. One day, you confirm. Before we enter the room you grab hold of my hand and study my wedding band. I look at yours. Your old man has taste. He has fantastic taste…he picked you. I squeeze your hand. You all right, I ask. You squeeze back and nod.
ASIA
The room is beautiful...decorated in creams and light shades of violet...flowers everywhere with a fireplace already lit...warming everything. I watch you remove your coat, making yourself comfortable. I'm uneasy...my heart is racing and my legs feel weak. After all this time...I'm finally going to feel you, touch you.... taste you. Why are you being so shy you ask? I'm not shy, I say as your hazel eyes pierce through me robbing me of my confidence. Why do you have to look so good? I can’t believe you flew all this way…and why now? You cross the room with confident strides, remove my coat and pull me into your arms. Are you sure you want this, I ask. You cup my face with your surprisingly soft hands. You tenderly kiss my forehead, my eyelids my nose and then my lips...slipping your tongue inside my mouth you run your hands down my back wrapping your arms around me. I moan softly as I press my body against yours for support. How can you ask such a question, you breathe against my cheek. I need this...I need you, you say covering my mouth with yours.
DARREN
I watch as you walk over to the fireplace and remove your shoes. Your lips are slightly swollen from our kiss. I offer you a mimosa, which you politely sip…the shakiness of your hand gives you away. Is this what you want I ask. You take your time to answer. I’ve never done this before you say. It’s not the answer I’m looking for. Why couldn’t you say yes? Why couldn’t you admit that you need me as much as I need you? Maybe I just need to relax, you state. I nod in agreement. I don’t want to rush you. I take a seat on a overstuffed sofa and watch as you fiddle with the stereo, searching for a station. You find Luther and Cheryl singing, ‘If This World Were Mine’. Dance with me, you say. Your voice is unsteady and your vulnerability touches me somewhere deep inside. Say please, I tease. A soft smile touches your lips. Pretty please, you say barely above a whisper sending a chill through my body. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Damn…what you do to me…
ASIA
I wrap my arms around your neck. You feel so good. Your scent is intoxicating and if you were not holding me right now, I would surely fall flat on my ass. You match my every move, your body never leaving mine. I’m lightheaded, maybe a little tipsy from the champagne. But if anything, I am more aware. I’m aware of the shape of your mouth…generous and full, your eyelashes…long and soft, your chiseled chest…muscular and smooth, the strength in your back, the curve of your behind. I’m aware of your vibe. I hold you tight; you squeeze me tighter, rubbing my body with such intensity, that each touch burns. Damn Asia, you whisper in my ear. You’re not suppose to feel this good you say. I smile and flick your ear with my tongue. I hear you groan. I take a look at my wedding band and inhale slowly. I step away shedding the warmth of your arms and instantly missing them. My mind is racing. I can’t think. I can’t comprehend my feelings. All I know is that I can’t find a reason strong enough to leave…because right now, at this very moment you are all I want. At this moment, you are all I need. Asia, I hear you whisper. We could watch television, maybe order up a movie, you suggest. True, I answer, touched by your understanding. But I’m going to need your undivided attention, I say and slowly begin to unbutton your shirt.
My ears are burning, my nose is running and I feel like the biggest idiot in the world standing on this subway platform. Why am I here? What the hell was I thinking flying all the way to Toronto? I should have taken a cab to her office, but no. This was what she wanted. What we talked about time after time. People bundled up in heavy puffy coats were giving me strange looks. I know what they’re thinking and I don’t blame them one bit. This cashmere overcoat I threw on is barely keeping my butt warm. Damn, I hate cold weather. I run my fingers over my earlobes. I can’t feel a thing. You see, this is why I moved to Miami. Nothing, but sunshine and beaches all year round. Sure there is the occasional hurricane and heavy rain…wait…I see you. You’re standing just a few feet away from me. Your lips are curved in to a cute little smile. I exhale deeply and make my approach. How are you doing, I ask. You look at me. Take in my essence. Your smile widens. Fine, you reply. How are you? I say I’m cool now that I am in the presence of such a beautiful woman like yourself. My morning is going great. You smile. I ask where you are on your way to. I watch your eyebrows rise. You have no idea why I am intruding in your world. You think I’m a stranger. To work, you reply. Cool, me too I added, but only kidding. The train finally arrives. We jump on. It’s crowded standing room only, so we stand together our jackets almost touching, me inhaling your fresh morning scent. I am mesmerized by your eyes; your pictures don’t do them justice. What street are you exiting at, I inquire. I watch your full lips form each word. This is my stop, you say. I say cool, mine is next. What a coincidence we’re going to the same area. You smile. You kind of remind me of someone I hear you say. Who, I ask, trying to conceal my smile. You shake your head and whisper, never mind. It’s not possible. I smile because you are only half right. Your stop approaches. You look into my eyes one more time, smile and step away as the doors open. Hey I say, what’s your name? Asia, you yell, what’s yours? Darren I respond. I smile as I watch your eyes widen in surprise. The door closes and the train speeds off.
ASIA
My heart knocks against my rib cage as the train eases away from the platform. Oh my god! It can’t be him, but yet I can’t move. People are pushing and bumping me out of there way, but I barely notice. What do I do? Was it really him? It couldn’t be. But before I wait for the next train. As I board it, my heart begins to race, my palms start to sweat and I absently rub them on my thighs. The train stops at the next station. I exit and stand nervously on the platform. As the morning crowd thins, I look around. I can barely breathe. I watch as the morning commuters head up the stairs and escalators; anxiously waiting because I know this is where I'm suppose to be. Something magical is suppose to happen here…I can feel it. This is where it all begins…but nothing happens. Eagerly, I glance around the almost empty platform, and just as the doubt begins to crawl into my heart...I hear you say...What took you so long? On shaky legs I turn towards you and say...I wasn't sure it was you...You take a closer step. I can smell your cologne, feel your heat, hear your heart...or is it mine. So how did you know you ask? Reaching down I take your hand touching you for the very first time. Your voice I say…My body knows your voice.
DARREN
You’re surprised. I can see it in your eyes. You shaved, you say eyeing my goatee. An appreciative smile dances on your lips. I guess I could have sent you a recent picture, but I wanted to surprise you. Remember, what we talked about before, I quizzed. I watch as your eyes widen in shock and uneasily look around. You nod slowly. Are you still heading to work, I ask. You nervously bite your lower lip. No, you reply after awhile. I’m spending the day with you, you say. I pull you close and inhale your scent. I trace the strong curve of your face with my finger. Caramel…your skin is the colour of creamy caramel…and I bet you taste just as good, if not better. We get back on the train and head over to the Lavier Spa and Resort talking the whole time as if this was any ordinary day. But as we book the room, you become strangely quiet. One day, I whisper. One day, you confirm. Before we enter the room you grab hold of my hand and study my wedding band. I look at yours. Your old man has taste. He has fantastic taste…he picked you. I squeeze your hand. You all right, I ask. You squeeze back and nod.
ASIA
The room is beautiful...decorated in creams and light shades of violet...flowers everywhere with a fireplace already lit...warming everything. I watch you remove your coat, making yourself comfortable. I'm uneasy...my heart is racing and my legs feel weak. After all this time...I'm finally going to feel you, touch you.... taste you. Why are you being so shy you ask? I'm not shy, I say as your hazel eyes pierce through me robbing me of my confidence. Why do you have to look so good? I can’t believe you flew all this way…and why now? You cross the room with confident strides, remove my coat and pull me into your arms. Are you sure you want this, I ask. You cup my face with your surprisingly soft hands. You tenderly kiss my forehead, my eyelids my nose and then my lips...slipping your tongue inside my mouth you run your hands down my back wrapping your arms around me. I moan softly as I press my body against yours for support. How can you ask such a question, you breathe against my cheek. I need this...I need you, you say covering my mouth with yours.
DARREN
I watch as you walk over to the fireplace and remove your shoes. Your lips are slightly swollen from our kiss. I offer you a mimosa, which you politely sip…the shakiness of your hand gives you away. Is this what you want I ask. You take your time to answer. I’ve never done this before you say. It’s not the answer I’m looking for. Why couldn’t you say yes? Why couldn’t you admit that you need me as much as I need you? Maybe I just need to relax, you state. I nod in agreement. I don’t want to rush you. I take a seat on a overstuffed sofa and watch as you fiddle with the stereo, searching for a station. You find Luther and Cheryl singing, ‘If This World Were Mine’. Dance with me, you say. Your voice is unsteady and your vulnerability touches me somewhere deep inside. Say please, I tease. A soft smile touches your lips. Pretty please, you say barely above a whisper sending a chill through my body. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Damn…what you do to me…
ASIA
I wrap my arms around your neck. You feel so good. Your scent is intoxicating and if you were not holding me right now, I would surely fall flat on my ass. You match my every move, your body never leaving mine. I’m lightheaded, maybe a little tipsy from the champagne. But if anything, I am more aware. I’m aware of the shape of your mouth…generous and full, your eyelashes…long and soft, your chiseled chest…muscular and smooth, the strength in your back, the curve of your behind. I’m aware of your vibe. I hold you tight; you squeeze me tighter, rubbing my body with such intensity, that each touch burns. Damn Asia, you whisper in my ear. You’re not suppose to feel this good you say. I smile and flick your ear with my tongue. I hear you groan. I take a look at my wedding band and inhale slowly. I step away shedding the warmth of your arms and instantly missing them. My mind is racing. I can’t think. I can’t comprehend my feelings. All I know is that I can’t find a reason strong enough to leave…because right now, at this very moment you are all I want. At this moment, you are all I need. Asia, I hear you whisper. We could watch television, maybe order up a movie, you suggest. True, I answer, touched by your understanding. But I’m going to need your undivided attention, I say and slowly begin to unbutton your shirt.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Sad?
Sad
Without listening to my words you summed up my entire being with a child’s’ three letter word.
What was it that I had said?
What made you class me so low?
I wanted to share my world, my understanding of me in this universe and you…and you call me sad.
I want you to know that I felt your pity heard your disgust, but I will not let it dissolve into my flesh.
I am more than just a simple three letter word and it’s a shame that in your haste you did not see.
For if you even tried to open your eyes you would see all the wonderful complexities that make me… me.
You would see a heart larger than eternity and compassion deeper than the darkest depth of the ocean.
You would see strength stronger than the mightiest storm and friendship unbreakable and never ending.
You would see the beauty of my soul, the colours of my love, and my sweetest dreams and desires.
I am so sorry you see sad, but I think you should know…you weren’t seeing me and you missed out on a wonderful opportunity.
And that is what truly is sad.
Without listening to my words you summed up my entire being with a child’s’ three letter word.
What was it that I had said?
What made you class me so low?
I wanted to share my world, my understanding of me in this universe and you…and you call me sad.
I want you to know that I felt your pity heard your disgust, but I will not let it dissolve into my flesh.
I am more than just a simple three letter word and it’s a shame that in your haste you did not see.
For if you even tried to open your eyes you would see all the wonderful complexities that make me… me.
You would see a heart larger than eternity and compassion deeper than the darkest depth of the ocean.
You would see strength stronger than the mightiest storm and friendship unbreakable and never ending.
You would see the beauty of my soul, the colours of my love, and my sweetest dreams and desires.
I am so sorry you see sad, but I think you should know…you weren’t seeing me and you missed out on a wonderful opportunity.
And that is what truly is sad.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
African Canadians: Where are our stories?
African Canadians: Where is our History
February: Black History month they say. A time to reflect on the black heroes of yesterday and to provide accolades for the prominent black leaders of today; kudos for those still paving the way. So we turn on our television and we are bombarded with movies and documentaries of the accomplishments of African American figures such as Harriet Tubman, and the underground railroad, Medger Evers, Malcolm X and of course the> father of the civil-rights movement in the United States, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I remember the first time I heard his "I Have a Dream" speech. I was ten years old and I was absolutely mesmerized. I had no idea my world was so restricted, violent and unjust. My elementary school was tucked away in a low income housing area and was culturally diverse. Racism was not my reality. And then one day I read about a little boy named Emmett Till who at the age of 14 was brutally beaten beyond recognition for simply whistling at a white woman. I remember asking Mrs. Mckenzie, my grade four teacher, what's wrong with being black? Of course I know now that Mrs. McKenzie could not tell of the obstacles that would come my way or of the constant fight to prove myself worthy...as a person. She simply told me not to worry...Black is Beautiful. And then I ran off to walk home with my bestfriend Jacqueline who one day, with her blonde hair in pigtails and her serious blue eyes, revealed to me that she would never ever call me a "nigger," to which I replied: why would you? As far as I was concerned, my history began with my Caribbean roots. My great-grandmother was a Maroon not an American slave, an African descendant who was a part of the rebellious slave movement in Jamaica, but there was no story glorifying the Maroons, no movies with a stellar cast, but wait a minute...what about African Canadians? Where were the stories to tell of who we are?
Today a proud educated African Canadian, I see that very little has changed. I will turn on the television and I will see the same images, the same stories...the same sentiment. Black History month remains as a time to reflect on the contributions and sacrifices of African Americans. What about the sacrifices and contributions of Black Canadians? Not to reduce the importance or the accomplishments of the American figures, but we all know that many paths of the Underground Railroad did lead to Canada. So why must the stories of trials and tribulations have to end there? Did we not battle slavery, discrimination and segregation as our southern neighbours? Do we, as Black Canadians, not have a story worth telling? Well to be completely honest...there are some films that tell these stories. Unfortunately, most of them are dated with tired footage and disengaging audio and interviews that lack the luster of today's technology. But I did see a few gems like Journey to Justice an incredibly important documentary, which I believe all Canadians need to see. Although Canada did not have segregation laws, according to this documentary, people were not only allowed to but it was their right to discriminate against minorities. Journey to Justice takes you on a Canadian crusade as six African Canadians fight for their civil rights forever changing the lives of all Canadians. Seeking Salvation, an uplifting documentary on the history of Black Churches in Canada and the purpose they serve in the black communities. I couldn't help but feel "the spirit" as I was reminded of a time, a time when the church was more than a place you spent an hour each Sunday...it was your hope, your healer, your life. Another documentary that really grabbed my attention was one called Speakers of the Dead. This chilling doc tells a story of a town hiding it's origins by replacing an old Black cemetery with a potato field. The Black descendants of the town later prove that the field was in fact the resting place of their ancestors and claim back the resting place with the help of the former lieutenant governor Lincoln Alexander. A truly remarkable story and I encourage you to see all these stories.
At this time, I would like to encourage Canadian producers and directors and especially the Broadcasters to get out there and find our stories, our African Canadian history. I feel it is important for all Canadians to be aware of the significant contributions of African Canadians and how we have assisted in the extending the cultural and economic fiber of this country. We need to document our accomplishments and promote them. With each passing day we lose ourselves as we identify more and more with the African American culture. The truth is that their reality...their history is not ours. But if it is all that we see, it will be all that is known. Yes, our two cultures may intertwine and undeniably there is a connection, but we are our own people. We have our own history, our own fights, our own struggles and yes... our own triumphs. To lose our stories, to not recognize our own heroes is to lose ourselves our identity.
February: Black History month they say. A time to reflect on the black heroes of yesterday and to provide accolades for the prominent black leaders of today; kudos for those still paving the way. So we turn on our television and we are bombarded with movies and documentaries of the accomplishments of African American figures such as Harriet Tubman, and the underground railroad, Medger Evers, Malcolm X and of course the> father of the civil-rights movement in the United States, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I remember the first time I heard his "I Have a Dream" speech. I was ten years old and I was absolutely mesmerized. I had no idea my world was so restricted, violent and unjust. My elementary school was tucked away in a low income housing area and was culturally diverse. Racism was not my reality. And then one day I read about a little boy named Emmett Till who at the age of 14 was brutally beaten beyond recognition for simply whistling at a white woman. I remember asking Mrs. Mckenzie, my grade four teacher, what's wrong with being black? Of course I know now that Mrs. McKenzie could not tell of the obstacles that would come my way or of the constant fight to prove myself worthy...as a person. She simply told me not to worry...Black is Beautiful. And then I ran off to walk home with my bestfriend Jacqueline who one day, with her blonde hair in pigtails and her serious blue eyes, revealed to me that she would never ever call me a "nigger," to which I replied: why would you? As far as I was concerned, my history began with my Caribbean roots. My great-grandmother was a Maroon not an American slave, an African descendant who was a part of the rebellious slave movement in Jamaica, but there was no story glorifying the Maroons, no movies with a stellar cast, but wait a minute...what about African Canadians? Where were the stories to tell of who we are?
Today a proud educated African Canadian, I see that very little has changed. I will turn on the television and I will see the same images, the same stories...the same sentiment. Black History month remains as a time to reflect on the contributions and sacrifices of African Americans. What about the sacrifices and contributions of Black Canadians? Not to reduce the importance or the accomplishments of the American figures, but we all know that many paths of the Underground Railroad did lead to Canada. So why must the stories of trials and tribulations have to end there? Did we not battle slavery, discrimination and segregation as our southern neighbours? Do we, as Black Canadians, not have a story worth telling? Well to be completely honest...there are some films that tell these stories. Unfortunately, most of them are dated with tired footage and disengaging audio and interviews that lack the luster of today's technology. But I did see a few gems like Journey to Justice an incredibly important documentary, which I believe all Canadians need to see. Although Canada did not have segregation laws, according to this documentary, people were not only allowed to but it was their right to discriminate against minorities. Journey to Justice takes you on a Canadian crusade as six African Canadians fight for their civil rights forever changing the lives of all Canadians. Seeking Salvation, an uplifting documentary on the history of Black Churches in Canada and the purpose they serve in the black communities. I couldn't help but feel "the spirit" as I was reminded of a time, a time when the church was more than a place you spent an hour each Sunday...it was your hope, your healer, your life. Another documentary that really grabbed my attention was one called Speakers of the Dead. This chilling doc tells a story of a town hiding it's origins by replacing an old Black cemetery with a potato field. The Black descendants of the town later prove that the field was in fact the resting place of their ancestors and claim back the resting place with the help of the former lieutenant governor Lincoln Alexander. A truly remarkable story and I encourage you to see all these stories.
At this time, I would like to encourage Canadian producers and directors and especially the Broadcasters to get out there and find our stories, our African Canadian history. I feel it is important for all Canadians to be aware of the significant contributions of African Canadians and how we have assisted in the extending the cultural and economic fiber of this country. We need to document our accomplishments and promote them. With each passing day we lose ourselves as we identify more and more with the African American culture. The truth is that their reality...their history is not ours. But if it is all that we see, it will be all that is known. Yes, our two cultures may intertwine and undeniably there is a connection, but we are our own people. We have our own history, our own fights, our own struggles and yes... our own triumphs. To lose our stories, to not recognize our own heroes is to lose ourselves our identity.
Morning Sun
Today my sun shined so bright not a single cloud tried to block its light.
It found me and greeted me with all the affection a mother has for a child and I could not help but smile
It touched me and warmed my body.
It soothed me and layed me down in sunkissed grass.
It held me and I was at peace with even my worst enemies.
I held on and selfishly relished in the attention, for I know it would soon end and my sun would depart
But deep down I know it would be okay, you’ve made me stronger and your burn shall be forever imprinted in my heart.
So go and come again even if tomorrow promises rain, I know you will still be there watching me and waiting for your moment to shine
It found me and greeted me with all the affection a mother has for a child and I could not help but smile
It touched me and warmed my body.
It soothed me and layed me down in sunkissed grass.
It held me and I was at peace with even my worst enemies.
I held on and selfishly relished in the attention, for I know it would soon end and my sun would depart
But deep down I know it would be okay, you’ve made me stronger and your burn shall be forever imprinted in my heart.
So go and come again even if tomorrow promises rain, I know you will still be there watching me and waiting for your moment to shine
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