Well Ain’t That A …


So I was sitting at my desk speaking to a colleague {white woman} when another colleague {Black man} walked up. 

He was looking for vending machine change from my “change pot”.

He pulled money from his pocket, he only had billsz

I started dancing .. a la stripper meme when money comes out.

She held her hand out …

She then commented: “you started dancing, I just held my hand out…”

We all laughed but hours later I find myself thinking “well damn, ain’t that how life is …”

Some gotta put in werk, others, need simply to hold out a hand.

unknown

20140707-193052-70252061.jpg
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

{you}

20140704-213912-77952470.jpg

I wanted it to be you and you alone.

Your gaze, your ways, of saying all the right things at the right times.
Your sense of self that somehow made me feel myself; embrace me for all that I have been, will be, am now.
Your touch was unmatched even from day to day; when I thought that there would never be anything so good and certainly nothing better.
But then, tomorrow came and your hands would prove me wrong … again.
Trailing along journeys of love, of lust, of desire, of time.

I wanted it to be you and you alone.

Copyright © 2014 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com.

Image: Sipo

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

20140530-210944-76184092.jpg

Being

sometimes the Brilliance is so bright it Causes momentary Disorientation. the Warmth and Fullness of a smile not easily won but once Obtained, is given over Freely. the nearly imperceptible Hesitation falls away, Becomes nothing more than a Fleeting fancy meant to provide just enough Distraction from your light. it cannot succeed though. you are so much more than what Even the most Flattering thoughts convey about You. on Some level of your being you Understand this to be true. yet you hold yourself above none – Insisting That although your light shines, It is not to blind, but to Illuminate.

Copyright © 2014 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

Elusive

20140514-220845.jpg

If you were my lover
I would wine and dine you,
Give you every little thing your heart desired.

If you were my friend
I would listen to your every word,
And be there for you at any time without question.

If you were my confessor
I would tell you every misdeed
Provide the smallest detail so that you would truly know.

If you were my boss
I would show up on time every day,
There would be no doubt of my commitment.

If you were my family
I would love you unconditionally,
Even in those times I want nothing more than to disown.

But you are none of these things,
You are wild and wayward and submissive to none but your own self.

I lay in bed waiting on you to come,
To woo me, to surround me, to take me under.

But alas dear sleep, you do as you wish and leave the consequences behind,
Swimming in the bottom of a coffee cup.

Copyright © 2014 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

Image: SlowTrav