For the Fems

Do you chase the joy inside you?

Cause sometimes I feel like a pinball on a guided track.

Like I’ve got levers pushing me up and down, and when I stop pushing for a moment,

I might just collapse to the ground

We’ve all got ideas of our own personal hell

Some folks call it other people

But I call it sitting still

Cause I lose it when I stop moving

Like a shark who can’t stop swimming

So you’ll never glimpse me sitting pretty or waiting for anybody

Who thinks a woman is a biddy that can live on compliments from men

And I’m at my wit’s end with these women who can justify it to themselves

Who quell their inspiration for a feast of shallow ends

Isn’t there something to be said for having my shit together?

Or do I have to weather some leather fetish to be ranked above the rest?

I may be young, but I know what I want

And I don’t have to flaunt this body nor does it have to be gaunt

See that’s the beauty of the beasts

Us off-kilter belles

We’re not just fems for better men, we’re fems for better selves

Cause self-loathing’s quite a bitch

And that beezy Debby Downer was never quite our type of chick

I’m about a balanced diet

About explosions of laughter and conversation that sticks to your ribs

And I’m salty when I’m on fire, so really is there any other that would you have it?

Like Erykah says sometimes, “I’m an artist and I’m serious about my shit.”

Meaning I create for a reason and I live to be creative

So I emote, and I write, and I dance with abandon

Cause sometimes, it’s life that’s demanding

And I’m just unstoppable

I’m like a champagne cork popping off the bottle.

I’m a crooked fighter pilot with quick fingers on the throttle.

I’m like a fuzzy bunny hopping from sipping too much André.

I may look funny when I’m dancing, but that’s just me stomping on Beyoncé.

‘Cause, yeah, I’m a I’m a I’m a – a diva

But a diva could never be a female version of a hustler

We’re so on top of this game that we could turn a pimp into a fluffer.

In fact, I’m going to go so far as to say I’m like Major Lazer’s MC

With 3,000 people at Coachella getting lifted off my energy

Cause I’m the sauna steam, I’m the artist’s dream, I’m on the ladder going up,

And right before I jump,

I’m like a Rasta going off yelling BWUH BWUH BWUH.

You can’t contain me in these moments

Cause I am nothing but energy

I’m just matter and music and pressure and vitality

See synesthesia is a bitch cause it’s difficult to describe

But I couldn’t find another way to get inspired if I tried

Some people say that musicians are like conduits to God

But I don’t get down on bended knee - I make salaam with a head nod.

I believe what I can feel,

You can see it on my face

Fuck a ringing eardrum

I am a devotee of bass

I am as passionate about music as I am about movement

So what’s the use of having limbs if you aren’t going to use them

Us Fems were never meant to be sequestered and contained

And those who try to stop us are attempting to in vain.

There is joy in the chase

And the reward is your breath

You’re invited to try to and match me

But I have yet to meet a dude who can lap me in this mess.

For now I am in love with all of life’s gifts

And I will shimmy through infinity

Until I have nothing left to give.

The Kings

When Suge Knight was King
he had a fuck you attitude
because anything was possible when you were
one intimidating bad dude
He personified the nineties
When nothing got past the media
except for if you knew the
right somebody
Attorneys could fix anything
And robbers got paid!
Now technology is just too
sharp to let anybody contest
what an HD video can say
But Suge Knight is a coward
He got beat up twice
Yeah, I found that out tonight
(Even Google's got some bite)
He's a forty-four year old
baby bemoaning a broken
crown
He says he won't back down
So he takes out his frustration
by pushing women around
Beating up his girlfriend of
3 1/2 years because there aren't
any more pussies in the studio
to inflict the brunt of his fears
It's best to let it go,
Suge,
Cause you've caused enough
of a mess yet
The nineties were about getting
yours
We even had a playboy for a
President
We celebrated Bill in spite of
his deviances
and accepted
when Rwanda went unanswered for
their grievances
Poor old Bill, he just couldn't
live up to his status:
A husband, and a savior,
and a well-intentioned egotist.
He was always committed
to doing big things
Still living up to it with Haiti
He's one of the few remaining Kings
Now when you think about
moguls of today, they must be
living in bulletproof glass encased biodomes
Because a vest couldn't keep Pac
or Biggie on the throne
But Jay-Z, P-diddy, Richard
Branson for chrissakes
They might as well be living
on Pandora
Chasing money's tail 'til
they're blue in the face.
But nobody gives them their due,
Al Gore's a bore,
But Branson maybe,
and nobody gives a fuck about the next
return of Jay-Z,
I mean, what's next,
Live in concert, 2068,
hooked up to a mic,
it's Shawn Carter's brain?
And when I
ever hear P-Diddy's
voice come in like
a toddler with cheetos in his
cheeks, I just cut out
the fat,
It's unhealthy and it's cheap

So where are the Kings,
starting now, in the Year of
the Tiger?
They can't be the club wielding
type, nor the ones who stand
beside them
Maybe Kings are for the '90s
through 2010
and it's time the harem got up
and kicked the pimp out of the
den
Everybody in power is somehow
corrupt
And even if they didn't claim
to be perfect, they're annoying
and I'd rather they shut
the fuck up

I've looked to the past
And once there was one
We all know that Jesse Jackson,
Al Gore, and even Barack Hussein Obama
Can't hold a candle to
King's son. So apart from Martin
Jr., who is the public
to look up to?
It' sure ain't the Kings of
the last decade or two.

So why don't we stop
holding on to the same idea
of who our next leader
has to be? For god's sake
let's have some originality;
Peace before power, Accord before
war, cure before prevention,
and ennoble the poor.

This isn't the job of some
modern day royalty.
These are actions that
we can manifest in our
every day reality!

If you're scared, that's because
you're a human being
But if you don't believe in your
own power
Then what do you have left
to believe in?

T.I. said it best, but now
he's in prison for slipping
So at the risk of sounding
cocky, I'm going to declare
us all Kings.

Say it: I'm a King

Say it; I'm a King

Say it, You're a King.

An old vista

The stars in Madagascar are
unabashed
They descend upon the sky
Like a curtain on the horizon
Enveloping something that isn't there
They shroud the air
And sing
Their whole sound engulfing you
So it's sink or swim
You can step into liquid,
Or hang onto the rim
They meet the rooftops of buildings
Swelling so
So much that you might retreat inside
Once I woke up in the middle of
the night
And I thought I was blind
All that I could see were sweet
punctures of light
Seeping beneath my irises
An iridescent longing to which I thought
I was immune
Now the Desert doesn't compare
With its majestic sand dunes
No, not all grains of the
Mojave could hold a candle to
the moon
And those fiery orbs of light
In Madagascar, starry night, alina kintana
"night star"
I'm remembering when you struck me
and who your victims are

Wanda!

I love to watch women older than me
worship
And revel in the beauty
of years younger
Exclaim at the difference

I wonder whether they
worship the old as I do
putting blind faith into the
human spirit

The unreasonable love for artistic passion,
that spews forth from their veins,
vocal cords exploding with pleasure
Because they know no other sound than
the sound of their right voice

Mine is malleable as of yet
Prying in its truthfulness
Supplicating and soft in wonder
And deepening in affected wisdom

-----------------------------------------

Wanda!

You've inspired the gall in me
to write this
and yet I'm sheepish in
your presence

I rehearse
the words
trying to control the situation
in an attempt to make it perfect

They come out before you
Beseeching as ever before
I am uninhibited
as of yet -
emboldened
to a certain extent

Concreteness is a virtue

But I come down on high
trying to meet and connect
I am boastful in a
way
Saccharine in earnest-
ness, in an attempt to
be loved by you

I am better with the
bass-player man
The one who slaps
family across his chest
I like him better because
he smiles warmly

Yet I yearn for your
embrace
The acceptance in your
face
The would-be enabling of
my reverie
and grounds for your respect.

Pay Attention

Baby, you got to read it
is what they say
Then, maybe,
you'll understand
better.
Don't assume that any fool
can pretend her or his way
through the veil
of a hefty dose of righteousness
and a smidge of cynicism, to boot.
You were never good at pretending.
Simply dress-up. Not even
make-up, really.
Your vintage face,
some say,
was made for sucking
up.
But the way you talk
tells me it's high time
for you to read a book.
Your idle loquaciousness
is getting drafty.
And your dream reverie
is caught between
remorse and disbelief, probably.
Well, you can choose not to
believe,
but the last time I checked,
ghosts were made to
haunt ya.
And if they can't convince you
well then,
they can try,
or
the facts will
the stories
the anecdotes
the news
and the pain, really.

Fleeting

For the moment when you really
get the senselessness of early
violent death. For the era
when you begin to see outside
yourself and name your ways.
For the list of things you
made and the things you
just keep doing. Ongoing,
habits, practices that keep
you from accelerating. These
are the moments of clarity.

"Fault"

is selfish
is arrogant
is judgmental
is critical
is insecure
had low self-esteem
loves to gossip
loves attention
likes to talk about herself
desires approval
likes to write
may cut people out
doesn't like confrontation
puts no one before herself
likes control
likes to hug
may play around
is secretive
is sneaky
likes somebody else to do it
doesn't trust herself on occasion
is obsessive compulsive
gets easily frustrated
can be flippant
can be very callous
likes to dominate
loves being held
is frivolous sometimes
rushes to conclusions
thinks in stereotypes
is very generous
doesn't like to share
is oddly jealous
wears a shield
would love to fight
gets distracted
takes
likes to steal
hates/obsesses over her body
wishes she were ...................
(something else?)
appropriates things
loves to buy
has lots of remorse, especially after drinking
blacks out
can't remember things
is impulsive
hates the mess
struggles with depression
(sometimes)
has a morose side (and loves Morose)
wants to be the people she admires
wishes she were cooler,
more elusive somehow
wants to fuck
hates to blow (not really,
but loathes to gag)
thinks she smells
wants long legs, or,
wants to be small
wishes she were one of
"those"
wants (to be) a muse
Loves fashion (buy! buy!
buy!)
wants a different nose
different cheekbones, maybe
is very critical of others (mostly
strangers, sometimes
acquaintances, occasionally
friends)
scrutinizes bodies
likes to watch
enjoys being catered to
hates shop ladies
likes dressing up
enjoys walking like a bitch
with things to do
hates tardiness
has recently become less punctual
likes getting away with things
masturbates.
takes what people say to, or about her,
to heart
is sensitive?
wants to live lavishly
wishes all her friends were okay
wants the fucking house
to be finished
wants her room back
is good at bullshitting
can make a pretty lie
loves to be alone
wants people to adore
her
likes being "the kid"
and being called "mature"
(what used to be "mature for her age")
is attracted to older men
doesn't find their wrinkles sexy
is drawn to blondes
like bees to honey
can talk a good one
often fails to act
is complacent
wishes she were better
is human.