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Showing posts from July, 2011

Love Is Not A Fight by Warren Barfield

Love is not a place
To come and go as we please
It's a house we enter in
Then commit to never leave

So lock the door behind you
Throw away the key
We'll work it out together
Let it bring us to our knees

Love is a shelter in a raging storm
Love is peace in the middle of a war
And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

To some, love is a word
That they can fall into
But when they're falling out
Keeping that word is hard to do

Love will come to save us
If we'll only call
He will ask nothing from us
But demand we give our all

I will fight for you
Would you fight for me?
It's worth fighting for

I was RAPED!!!

I had it, I had it all
Strength, love, warmth,
I had it all, wealth, diamonds, minerals beyond believe
I had the most powerful curves from side to side; I had it all
I had a pride that was black and powerful; and I danced in it
I had the freshest flows, filled with purity and calmness I took pride in it
I loved my waters, I loved the flows gentle and sweet like a baby’s kiss; I had it all
I had it all; then they raped me

They took advantage of me
Their goal was to destroy me; like vultures they scrambled inside me tearing me apart
They dragged me on paths filled with pieces of glass
My spirit bruised my skin tattered
They attacked my soul and fed on my blood
They made me hate myself, as they took the best of me
And they were done; they looked at me and spat to my face, laughing
They left me for dead destroyed like Haiti after the earth quake
And no one helped me
I cried for so long but no one heard my cry
I had faded into Jurassic park but now I am back
I realized that I have a heart …


I am my mama’s child

Reminiscing the days I wore mama’s pams

The days I went through her wardrobe

Ponds on

Lipstick check

Wanja check… everywhere right to the one dot on the cheek

The little girl who went with her mother to the market

The one who sat on the sewing machine

The one who peddled and broke all the needles of sewing machine

Ask them they will tell you

They know me well

They know I was my mother’s child

They know I talked like her

They know I laughed like her

They knew I would be a tailor like my lovely mama

They called me the little tailor

I have grown so much

I have drifted so much

Life has thrown me to the other side of the world

But I am still mama’s little girl

I am still the little tailor

The one who peddled the machine

I still peddle… I still make…

I stitch word and word and try to make it in this garment of called life

They knew me best

I am my papa’s child

They know me well

They were convinced that I would step to the floor dance and do the sing

They will tell you o…