Art imitating life!: 2009

11.02.2009

Show it or clothe it . . .

"When a man cannot see a woman, then what is he going to harass her for? Nothing," said Abu Donya, a taxi driver, whose views are shared by many Egyptians. "So imagine if all women wear niqab, things would be better," he said.

Show it or clothe it, men will still wonder about what lay behind the habits of women.

11.01.2009

Before anyone could predict her actions, the mistress rushed into the kitchen area of the one room shanty, retrieved a magnificent knife from one of three drawers and returned to my mother’s bedside. Withholding mercy, she plunged the knife into my mother’s rapidly beating heart. Deep, deep down to the handle, exerting a grunt and anguished cry with the effort.

The woman helping to bring me into the world let go of my head.

My birth was delayed to comfort the murderer. My head was in the world while my body was not. My head was in the world while my body was not. My head was in a whirl, in a whirl, in a whirl. My head was in the world. My body was not.

Neither woman considered assisting my mother with the knife buried to the handle in her chest. They raced to the hysterical, screaming mistress, whose hands were covered in blood.

The unnamed midwife rocked the mistress gently like a baby, patting her quivering shoulders with the hands that had cradled my head. “Shhhh, shhhh, shhh”, she shushed while rocking the woman to comfort.

My mother’s eyes, I am told, were wide open, fixed.

Sensing my mother’s demise, I breathed a breath and let loose my first cry.

My head was in the world.

10.31.2009

..... ! ! ! .....

Dedicated to YOU who spread lies for malicious intent and aggravation. To YOU who've nothing positive to bestow upon the world. The fingers you have pointed, now point back at YOU.

Psalm 120
1 In my distress I cried unto the LORD, and he heard me.

2 Deliver my soul, O LORD, from lying lips, and from a deceitful tongue.

3 What shall be given unto thee? or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue?

4 Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper.

10.24.2009

Word on the street: I

"All this over a chick!"
He said it as if a woman's life is less than things => cars, money or land. Entire nations rise up against other nations for a little piece of property but a chick ??? Ain't worth it.

10.12.2009

a mini-Excerpt from a work in progress

“Then what are you, if you are not like him? Do you drink too?”
He smiled but it was not a true smile, it was a mask to hide something he did not want her to see.
“Y-you are like him,” she gasped. “You are a monster.”
He smiled again, revealing a veil of a face that frightened her.
“No different than you. No different than nature intended or anything else of this world. Would you call a lion a monster for how he dines? Or you, and the religion you service, do you not drink the blood . . . of Christ?”

9.08.2009

Wicked Wisdom's "Something Inside of Me"

8.28.2009

Lemonade!

There was rain in my sunshine when I woke that morning. I thanked the Heavens and called it “thrilling” while thinking of childhood and the joy that comes along when dancing underneath raindrops and playing in puddles of mud. But someone came along and tossed me a lemon. He thought my skin was thin . . . or maybe he was not thinking. I am sure he is the thought less kind. Yet I believe he cannot care so deeply as to think at all. But I must divulge too that though my skin is a bit thin, it is also easy to bruise. Still, it is a canvas – adored, loved and worshiped.

I am no magician but there is magic in hope, in love, in belief. In my belief, I held this lemon high, high within my thoughts; right up there with love and hope who bravely sliced it into three perfect circles. “See here,” they explained: “This isn’t about you at all.” Then love swelled inside of me and hope rained down like sugar to sweeten the bitter and quiet the sting. Oh what a wonderful sweet juice this makes, I thought while laughing and standing underneath the downpour of Heaven’s blessings. How could I ever think of a sour word, a sour thought the same . . . ever again? I realized then that no matter what bitterness was said or thought of me, I had enough love inside to overcome it. There is enough! There is more than enough! For you too!

My cup runneth over! Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days . . . all the days . . . all the days . . .

8.24.2009

Updated!

Lulu.com author page has been updated:
Darnishia's author webpage.

Kisses for Fifty-cent Pieces

At the age of twelve, preacher eyes open wide at the sight of you. Sometimes ten. Fifty-cent pieces are pressed into palms as a tithe. The gum is wrapped in paper sunshine!

They never say "Don't tell" because the preacher men choose the pretty girls belonging to tired mothers: "Lawd, I'm so tired. Girl go outside and play."

Memorial Drive, MLK and Metropolitan are terrible roads to cross. No place for a girl child to play. Send them to Sunday school where they will be safe. Let the preachers lay hands on them. Turn them into little whores.

There a many whores.

There are whore wives, women who give it up for a last name. Then whore wife opens her legs, cooks meals, and cleanses briefs of skid marks, among other whore wife duties. Wives get the trouble. the worry. The soiled underwear. The last name legitimizes her existence otherwise, she still gets fucked. ...

8.20.2009

Back to writing .. .

With three ideas for books vying for attention inside my mind, it is time I returned to WRITING! I am unsure as to the reason for this inspiration or what pulled me back to the passionate embraces of novellas and short stories but since putting away the camera, at least for a time -- for photographs tell stories just as well as words, I feel compelled to compose a novella before the year ends or at least for the beginning of the year.