Its so hard to say goodbye.

We’ve Moved.

www.2partssoul.blogspot.com

I won’t be deleting this blog, but I did move all the post over to the new address. Make sure to resave me to the blog roll.

All the best wordpress,

KD

They don’t weep no more.

My older cousin flew in for the funeral. We play it cordial but I don’t speak that language. I try. I might do a better job if they taught it in school but I doubt they will in the next trillion years. I have another cousin, the same age as me, he speaks that language fluently. I listened to the conversation chiming in when necessary and from their conversation I wrote this poem. Actually I won’t take credit for it. It wrote it self. True facts, because I never talk like this. Either way I liked it enough to share.

 

 

They don’t weep no more.

Say tears won’t come like they use too.

Cause a man can’t cry

When another man die

And they don’t weep no more.

 

They don’t juice and gin

Rainfall to the ground no more.

Times got hard

Sips to precious

Lips need to be numb

Cause they don’t weep no more.

Just smoke clouds and niggas spit.

But they don’t weep no more.

 

They don’t love they daddies

Cause he left before age 3

So they don’t miss him no more

Never seen they daddies cry

They don’t know real men shed tears

Like grief and regrets.

Wish they could weep.

Let go some of they angry hearts.

Let go self-hatred

Fear of greatness.

 

But they don’t weep no more.

Leave it for they

Mama’s

Sister’s

Auntie’s

They weep for them

Grow them

Strong

And black

Dream them necessary

Still they don’t weep no more.

 

Don’t know no direction

Cept down.

Can’t walk tall

If they can’t cry in the dark.

And who gon’ teach them.

 

A real man cry

And be angry

Learn to ask why.

Till these brown boys do

They won’t weep.

Then they can’t grow.

 

Until they say No More.

 

 

 

baking powder and inspiration,

 

KD

I have a confession…or 3

I can bake my ass off.

I spent the past 2 or 3 hours in the kitchen baking them. Its for the funeral that I refuse to go to. I figured this is me doing my part, baking for the repass.

I have another confession…

 

I like Baltimore club music.

I’ve been jamming hard since I finished cleaning up the cake mix.

I’m gonna try and do the mixpod thing one more time. If I can’t get it this time then fuck it.

I wrote a poem too. I’ll post it separate. I think its pretty decent. Nothing award winning. Its just one of those times when I get an idea in my head and I actually take the time to sit down and write it out.

Fuck yo’ couch,

KD

It’s so hard to believe, it’s hard to have faith, especially when things aren’t working out. It’s difficult and a challenge when you continuously ask for what you want and need in your life or at least what you think you want and need in your life, but that’s when you have to believe and have faith the most. Who knows how the blessings will flow or at what time or what hour those lessons are going to come….When you give up, when you start to believe again, when you’re crying, when it hurts so bad, when you’re too embarrassed to face anybody— whatever—just be thankful because I believe that’s all God really wants from us is to be appreciative. It’s been my way of thinking and I’m hoping to teach this lil’ one these things.

                                                                                                                             – Jill Scott

Running out of reasons to sleep.

I need structure. I need deadlines. I need more than all this fucking free time. I can’t function. I’m so lazy. So lazy. So lazy. I get up at 11 o’clock every day just to watch The View. Like seriously, that’s the only thing I have to look forward to in the morning. The View. The fucking View. Well today was different because of the big Obama Celebration, which was truly something to watch. Although 24 hours of non-stop Obama is a bit much, I mean playing the same sound bites over and over and over and over and over and over, can be more than one human being handle. With this said, I still watched every second.  I loved it. I loved them. I feel like they should have another baby and it would just be magically 22 and me and not mixed with white. Sasha and Malia would love me as a big brother, and granny would be my best friend. We could drink gin and play spades. Papa B could get me tickets to all the big sporting events (if I liked sports). Mama Michele could read my bed time stories and help me with my financial planning and I could go to an Ivy League school. Yeah. I like that idea. So God, if you’re reading…. Ummm… hop on that, like ASAP.

 

Yeah…what was I talking about????

 

Right, I need something to do. I need school. I can’t deal with this. I work better when I have stuff to do. It’s hard to procrastinate when there is nothing else you should be doing. I’ve tried finding a job, but I feel like I’m to qualified to flip burgers and shit, and I really don’t want to. I want a nice comfy office job. I don’t even have to like it. I just want to make a decent salary, find some local friends, and join a club (or something). I should buy a gym membership but, that requires money that I just don’t have.  I wish life was like Juno (the movie) all witty and folk music. That would be nice.

 

No really, does anyone have a life that they are not using? I can’t be one of those people who get trapped in their parent’s basements and never leave. It’s not what I’m breathing for.

 

Can someone give me a deadline? I work well under pressure.

FUCK I MISS SCHOOL! Seriously, I want to become a professional student. Is that possible? Its either that or finding a way to get adopted by the Obama’s. Hell, I’ll take the Palin’s. (haha fuck that, I don’t eat moose meat. )

 

Save me from myself,

 

KD