Posted in expression

many splintered thing


the saying goes that love is a many splendored thing,

the fine print though is that it entirely depends on the person dispensing said love

there are those who seek to be air,

breathing life and laughter so deep that you have no choice but to grow, to fly

there are also those who seek to be splinters,

slashing you just a little bit with words, actions, dismissals, doubts

some of us have grown so accustomed to the consistency of the pain that all we do is quickly acknowledge it and move right along 

paying no mind to the number of scars that have accumulated 

bearing no witness to the need for change

until it is too late

until those splinters – with every tug, every rip – change the very fabric of who we are 

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com 

stock image

Posted in creative writing, creativity, expression

queen


king

where is your crown

why have you tucked it away

have you locked it away forever

do you ever take a glimpse, wonder what happened

do you believe the lies they tell you

do you believe the lies you tell yourself

do you truly believe that you are no longer king

is that why you don’t treat me as

queen

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

Image: Basquiat

Posted in creative writing, creativity, expression

love … lost

I should not have said I love you

It was perhaps the most wrong thing I could do
Those words, so powerful, so true.

Those words can raise spirits that are strong enough to receive them

But for those that are not, those words come back as broken glass

Cutting ever deeper the vulnerable flesh of the one who dared utter them

I should not have said I love you

It was perhaps the most wrong thing I could do

You were not ready to receive them

You were not ready to hold them, to keep them safe

You were not ready to return that love

Only, broken glass.

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

Posted in expression, Uncategorized

The Diagnosis


If we’re completely honest with ourselves, there is always a sign. There is always that very first instance that makes us aware that something exciting is about to happen or that something is wrong. Oftentimes though, we ignore it, we put it to the side. We shrug it off as if it’s nothing.

Towards the end of December 2014 I had an itch on the side of my boob but thought nothing of it. I just thought it was some bumps. I thought – “now that I have some real insurance, I should go see my GYN for a checkup and schedule my mammogram since I’m on the verge of my 40th birthday.”

**It should be noted here that for the previous 4 years I had been in varying states of self/under/un-employment.**

Anyway, fast forward to January 2015 and I finally made an appointment because the small patch I thought were just bumps were still present but felt like they were moving when I would touch them. The PA who did my breast exam in early February described them as “peas”.

She scheduled my mammogram and denied my request for a new birth control prescription … “let’s wait and see what the mammogram says.”

Two weeks later I’m in for my first mammogram which includes a diagnostic. For those who don’t know, this means that in addition to the awkward, super squeezing boob machine there is an ultra-sound type test they do. {there’s a lot more to this part of the story but more on that another time} The results came back and there were 2 suspicious areas.

I got a call from both my GYN and the breast surgeon she recommended me to. Needless to say I was already going nuts — internally of course. NOBODY wants to hear from 1 doctor in a day, let alone 2 …

The very next week I was in for a core needle biopsy, which also has it’s very own story.

My surgeon had decided to biopsy the second area first because of its location. This was not “the peas”. This was an area only detected by the mammogram. She was less worried about this area but wanted to biopsy it first because it would be a little bit more involved than the area of “peas”.

Two weeks later I was in for the results. I was as nervous as nervous could be. But, I consoled myself with this thought while I was waiting for the doctor. Don’t laugh.

I was sitting in the exam room, fully dressed, waiting for what felt like an eternity and thought “You know what? It’s fine. Everything is fine. In all the movies and tv shows the doctor takes you into their office if it’s bad news. I’m not in her office. I’m in the exam room, fully dressed to boot! It’s fine. I’m fine”

The doctor breezed in, with 2 interns in tow, said hi, grabbed her little stool, rolled over to me, put her hand on my leg while simultaneously saying:

It’s cancer.

For those keeping count, in the span of roughly 5 weeks I went from being just Tamika to Tamika-with-a-cancer-diagnosis.

Copyright 2016 Tamika Brown/The Fyne Prynt 

Posted in creative writing, creativity, expression

unknown

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I don’t know what it is I’m looking for but I am aware to my core that I have not yet found it.
It is lurking and leering and calling to me but I don’t know where it is.
It taunts me and aggresses me and deprives me of any promise of satisfaction.
There are fleeting moments when I feel as though I’m close, so close but that moment passes and I realize just how far away I am.
Is there a secret passageway? A gateway accessible only to those who possess a power unknown to me?
Is the struggle meant to be interminable? Only receiving praise when it is too late to fully enjoy it?
Is it desperation or an inability to escape that makes the point break?
Where are you?
What are you?
Why are you so intent on fleeing from me?

Copyright © 2014 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

Image:AptArt

Posted in creative writing, creativity, culture, expression

Ours

At what point does yours/mine become ours?
When does our present subsume tradition yet pave the way towards the future?
If it is left to us to share the story, will we falter or rise?
How do we continue to ‘wear the mask’ in exchange for the promise of being accepted?

How do we witness loss upon loss upon loss yet retreat into the depths of silence?
At what point do individuals become the collective.
When do we recognize that the only singularity is the necessity for change?
Will we ever recognize that the urgency is indeed, this moment?

It is not your history.
It is not my struggle.
It is not your pain.
It is not my mistreatment.
It is not your inequality.
It is not my peculiar institution.

It is ours to learn.
It is ours to rememberer.
It is ours to teach.
It it ours to imagine.
It is ours to create.
It. is. OURS.

Copyright © 2014 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

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Posted in creative writing, creativity, expression, Uncategorized

cake

I’m yearning to consume you,
to make you mine.
To walk away feeling completely:
…. nourished
…. overwhelmed
…. satiated
…. content
…. fulfilled
{all those things which, of course, lead to regret the next day.}
Leaving behind nothing more
than the opportunity to indulge once more.

Copyright © 2014 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com