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Love Letter To The Black Woman

Where do I begin? What can I possibly say to let you know how I feel?

Do I start off by telling you how fine I think you are? Nope.  That only speaks to your outward self…though, for the record, you are so, so fine.

Do I begin by saying how you’re everything any man would want in a woman?  Nah.  That’s not really telling you anything because it’s so damn basic and general.  But that it factor a woman *has* to have?  You embody it.

Those starting points are ok, but “from the heart” is the best place to begin, so here goes…

Things haven’t been easy for you.  For some time now, you’ve had to be so many things to so many people; no doubt your tired.  It’s time I took the burden off of your shoulders and allowed you to lean on me.

For once, let me be the strength that you need.  Let me protect you from the cares of this world.  Let me provide a place of refuge that you can escape to when “it” all becomes too much.  Let me do these things because, simply, I love you.  And because I do, I will.

I’ve cherished you since before I even knew I was supposed to.  The greatness that is in me was birthed by you. You’ve been a teacher to me; you’ve shown me what a fulfilled person looks like.  All at a cost of “you”, and you never complained.  You’ve poured out strength from a reserve that only The Creator could’ve given you; it seems endless.

You always find a way to make magic happen, turning nothing into something.  Society hasn’t been kind to you, calling you names and looking to make you fit a stereotype that’s the antithesis of what you are…the prototype.  And that’s said with utmost reverence.  You are the earth that we all came from; the nurturing element that brought, and continues to bring forth greatness.

When I imagine my life without you, I see nothing. There’s no me without you. I cease to exist if I don’t nurture what’s inside you. It may be selfish, but I need you to survive.  And because I know this, I’ll do what’s necessary to ensure you feel alive.

The future of us is contained within you, your heart, and your womb. The younger (just as precious) versions of you shall be cherished and adored.  I will show the younger (protective of you) versions of me how to cherish and adore them.

Taking care of you has been a responsibility that I’ve neglected for far too long.  When I see the glimpses of your radiating light, my desire is for you to illuminate more of my world.  And not just mine, but the entire world. It’s only the right, and natural order of things.

I can never seem to find the right words to truly express how I feel about you…but, this time?  I say simply, “black woman, you are everything that is right in this world. I adore you, I believe in you, and I embrace the wonderfulness that is you.”

Lovingly Yours,

A Black Man

 
9 Comments

Posted by on 01/06/2014 in Life, Love & Admiration

 

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love letter to black women

Can’t wait to read the “letters” that this will spawn.

 
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Posted by on 12/16/2013 in Uncategorized

 

The Dance

*the scene…*

There’s a chocolate velour couch where I’m sitting.  Lights are dimmed, the aroma of cinnamon permeates the atmosphere, and Usher’s Seduction is playing in the background.  To my right is a new style recliner.  As the music plays,  I get up and take a seat in the recliner.  Like clockwork, you enter the room as the breakdown of the song begins.

You’re dressed in a lace teal and black corset with a teal v-string.  On your legs are black thigh highs covered in teal fishnets and on your feet are 4.5 inch open toed heels.  Everything you’re wearing accentuates your curves flawlessly.

As you enter the room, I begin to stand, but you extend your hand as if to say “stop”…then you wave it at me as if to say sit back down.  You slowly make your way toward me, as you do, we make eye contact, and hold that gaze for what seems like forever.  I start to lean up, ever so slightly to glance at you, taking in the wondrous sight that I’ve been afforded the opportunity to look upon.

Seduction ends and Joe’s More and More begins.  As the initial beat drops, so do you. Each time the bass note thumps, your hips follow along.  I’m utterly mesmerized by the way your body undulates, and I simply can’t look away.

As the song ends, you back into the room, our eyes never losing focus.  I stand to follow you because the sight of you dancing has overwhelmed my senses.  But again, you put your hands up to tell me “stop”.  Instead of motioning for me to sit back down, you say “lay on the floor and take your shirt and glasses off; I’ll be right back”.  Not one to have to be told twice, I do as requested and earnestly await your return.

The anticipation gnaws at me.  Two songs play before you return to the room, sans the v-string.  For a second that seems like forever, I sit up and stare in utter amazement.  The smoothness of the flower betwixt your thighs is as the surface of a quiet lake.  A sly smile creeps across your succulent lips as you watch me watching you.  You ask, “you like?”  All I can do is nod my approval.

Still clad in the thigh highs, corset, and heels, you walk toward me, and Lou Rawl’s Early Morning Love begins to play.  When you get to my feet, you ask me to close my eyes.  After 3 seconds of internal debate, they’re shut.  I feel you step over me and walk up my body until your standing over waist.  Unbeknownst to me, you had managed to grab the stereo remote.  After finding a song that fits your plan, you toss the remote on the recliner and tell me, “no matter what, you can’t open your eyes”.  I deeply exhale, signaling my agreement.

You then lower yourself onto me and pick up right where you left off before you originally exited the room.  I can’t open my eyes, but my hands are doing all the seeing my eyes cannot.  They methodically travel along every nook, fold, and curve you have; memorizing every millimeter of your being.  It’s -literally- getting harder than I ever thought to maintain control of myself, but I’m a cool customer. 

You check to make sure my eyes are still closed (they are), and then you stretch out prostrate on top of me.  I envelope you in my arms, rubbing my hands up and down your back and lightly palming that blessed butt of yours.  Your head is on my chest, nuzzled under my chin.  Softly you whisper, “I could stay like this…but the show isn’t over.”  “Oh really?” I ask.  You nod your head in the affirmative, wiggle out of my grasp, and raise your body up, but not fully.

You slow wind your body up mine.  Your breasts caress my face, and I kiss them as they keep traveling north, until lace from the corset rubs against my face.  The next skin I feel is your stomach.  I kiss it as well, and you stop moving.  My chest feels an uptick in moistness as you say “keep kissing right there.”  And I do, for several minutes.

You ask me to stop…but why would I?  Through the kisses, you creep up a little bit more…and the rose is directly over my mouth.  In a clear, but low voice, “place that bud on my lips!” I demand, but you don’t, at least not initially.  “I’ll place it where I want…when I want” is your reply.  While this test of wills is taking place, you’ve managed to place your thighs on my shoulders.

With ease, I maneuver you so your thighs are now on the sides of my head, and the bud is where I want it.  You lean back, providing me even greater access to your treasure.  You begin rubbing my bald head and simply ask, “what are you waiting for?”

And with that, I begin to feast like a famished man who’s not had sustenance for time on end…

 
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Posted by on 12/04/2013 in Fantasy

 

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Late Night Thoughts…

It’s not often that I don’t have set plans for the phases of my life.  Right now though?  I’m lost.  I have no idea which way is up, left, or where I’m going.

My fam is telling me to “keep on trusting God, things will eventually turn around”, etc.  But ya know something?  My question is when?  “Keep the faith”, I hear.  “Faith without works is dead”, I hear.  It seems like somewhere along the way, while trying to keep the faith, and believing in God’s promises, He forgot to show up and do His part.

I don’t say this to challenge God, but to freely vent and simply ask, “when”?  When *will* things turn around?  I feel like I’m one step from being ass out on ev-ery-thang…and there’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’ll take that step and get to that point before I see a change.

Is this my “Job experience”?  Outside of losing my family, just about everything is gone. 

What am I, as a man suppose to do when I can’t do what I’m looked at to do?  That’s what I’m asking myself, and rhetorically, what I’m left to ask God.  I know the answer is to again, keep praying and believing, but frankly, I’m tired.  I’m spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and financially drained.  Never having enough gets old.  Feeling unfulfilled gets old.  And yet, it continues; seeming like it’ll never end.

I’m not sure how much more I can take.  I need a break and a breakthrough.  When I’ll get it, I don’t know, but I hope it comes soon.

 
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Posted by on 09/17/2013 in Random

 

The Mind Knows…Does The Heart Believe?

I have been perplexed for some time about my spiritual walk.  I mean, I believe that God exists, as I believe that Jesus existed on earth.  I also believe that Jesus was/is God incarnate in the form of Man.  So in this aspect, I have faith.

What troubles me is, in my mind I know and believe all the above is true.  I question if my heart “knows and believes” it though.  I mean, I see folks get a “feeling” and wonder if that’s it.  Am I missing something?  Is my inability to feel this feeling a sign that my salvation isn’t sealed?  Or, is it that I’m looking for something that not everybody gets?

It’s a conundrum because my mind works overtime, daily.  I readily admit that I over analyze everything.  It could be that I’m over analyzing this as well.  But I’d over analyze if I’m over analyzing this thought too.

See the problem?

It started when in my teens.  I first dedicated my life to God and accepted Christ as my savior at 13, while attending a Baptist church.  This didn’t mean much…then.  I did it because I had passed “the age of accountability” and was deathly afraid of dying and going to Hell.  The second time I was 22, and had just gotten out of a soul-rendering relationship.  The last time I was 26, and decided to do it to make sure I had my Baptist and Apostolic bases covered; and because my soon to be wife had an apostolic background.

Right there, we see that all the times were a reaction to *something* in my life.  However, I still believe/d in the transformational nature of Jesus’s love.  So I’m left to wonder, “has my life been purchased with Christs’ blood, as the Bible states when Christ is accepted into a person’s life?”  Or, “am I just falling into another pattern of insecurity about my relationship with Him?”  It’s stressful to say the least.  Worse yet is that, I can only see incremental changes in my life, but others think I have a “calling” on my life.

Do you know how stressful all this is?

And I go through this every few months.  If there is such a calling, I wish God would just show it to me.  I mean, I know He can use others to speak things to people, but just once, I wish He would speak it directly to me. Truthfully, because I don’t think He has spoken to me, my wondering about my heart ramps.  There are things I have a desire to do that aren’t of God, and I know that.  What keeps me from doing them though?

Is it not wanting to disappoint Him?  Is it something within me that fears the repercussions?  Do I know better, and also know that I’ll only have me to blame if the situation goes awry?  The answer to all is simply, yes.  Since the answer is yes, I get a measure of comfort in knowing that Jesus is around, and has taken up residence in my heart.

But it’s still what I know, and not what I feel.

Perhaps I’m searching for a “feeling” that isn’t meant to be felt; at least not by me.  Maybe the feeling I imagine I’m suppose to feel is not real at all.  It could be that the insecurity I do feel is God’s way of letting me know that in actuality, I am His.  Maybe the wondering I feel is His way of keeping me close so that I’ll always stay connected.

The Bible says: “His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.”  This being the case, it’s possible I will continue to have these bouts of doubt.  If it is His way of ensuring I stay close, then who am I to question the One who made me like this in the first place?

-D.G.

Am I alone in feeling like this? If not, how does God keep you close to Him?

 
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Posted by on 08/26/2013 in Uncategorized

 

Midnight Love: The Memories In The Music

If you were in college during the late 90’s to early 00’s, like me, then at some point, you probably watched Midnight Love.

Midnight Love was a late night slow jam video show that came on BET at, well, midnight.   The show played the “mellosmoothe” R&B songs of the day, and sometimes some old school, depending on the night.  I kind of planned my sleep pattern around being able to either wake up to see it, or go to sleep after it was over.  The R&B songs of that time (late 90’s to early 00’s) struck a chord because during that time, I was transitioning from BoyzIIMen adolescence to young adulthood.  It’s probably also why most music from 2004 until now is…lacking, to put it mildly.

Anyway, the overall ’93-’04 era, in my opinion, was the best because the music was the soundtrack to my formative years.  Jodeci, BoyzIIMen, Dru Hill, Aaron Hall, pre-scandal R. Kelly, Maxwell, even Gerald Levert, all had songs that instantly bring back memories when I hear them now.  Not only these groups and solo artists, but some of the lesser known acts as well.

Groups like Ideal

Profyle

and Reel Tight

also came out during the era.  These artist were underappreciated.  But the most slept on singer, for my money, during that time was Myron.

All had songs that, to this day, I listen to regularly.

The nostalgia of the songs is both good and bad. It’s good because as memories get blurred,  the songs bring everything back into focus. It’s bad because songs that fit that time, also fit the relationships that occurred during the same era.

Nevertheless, the R&B music from that time will always have a special place in my heart.  So much so, that I used to make compilations that double as  T.U.S.J.G.T.D. tapes and CDs, focusing mostly on the music from that era.  For those who don’t know what T.U.S.J.G.T.D. stands for, its:  The…ULTIMATE…Slow Jam Get The Draws tapes and CDs.  The download links to two of the compilations are below.

If you’re between 26-35, then you *should* know these songs.  If you’re under 26, then give a listen to what good music is…

Darrk’s R&B Compilation Vol. 1


Darrk’s R&B Compilation Vol. 2

*Note the transition between songs. It’s an art to the Slow Jam mixtape.*

Do you have songs that are attached to special memories? Are they happy memories, or ones you’d rather forget? Do you have any U.S.J.G.T.D. mixes to share?

 
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Posted by on 08/19/2013 in Life, Random

 

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Suicidal Thoughts

“Killing one’s self is the most selfish thing anyone can do.”

It’s a refrain we hear continuously when somebody commits suicide.  It’s the same thought I initially had when I first heard about Freddie E. killing himself.  Who am I, or anyone else to say that?  I was wrong for thinking it.

It’s “Monday Morning Quartebacking” a situation that has no chance of being corrected.  We don’t know what drove him to take his own life.  The decedent’s family are really the only ones who have a right to feel like this.  But the reality is, they’re just as selfish.  Oh, it’s unpopular to say that, but that fact doesn’t make it any less true.  Granted, it’s fueled by grief, anger, and other assorted emotions, but the fact remains.

People who take their own life have their reasons.  What isn’t up for debate is that just because those of us left don’t understand it, there are still reasons.  Just about anything could combine to fuel the feelings that nothing will get better and the only option is death.  Emotional, environmental, mental, and physical factors can play a part in it.  Financial and physiological factors do too.

In the monolithic black community, the same factors for those in other communities that commit suicide exists.  We just never deal with it.  We say how we don’t understand how one of us could do it.  Proclamations are made about how “I’d never do that.”  For the people making these assumptions (that is what they are) please stop.  Just because a situation hasn’t arisen where you’ve felt like ending it all, never take it for granted that one can.

Reports and studies have attempted to pinpoint why black men in particular are killing themselves in greater numbers.  Of course nothing is definitive, but these studies do begin to form a frame of reference for us to examine.  The speculative and subjective nature of the topic cannot be denied.  Nor can the necessity of identifying the root causes of suicide.

Everyone can’t be saved, and it would be foolish to try.  Our community can do more to find ways to help those who are reaching out however.  We must take time to recognize the signs of those in distress.  Passing on a phone number to a hotline is cool, but can we invest in these men?  Society has basically said we’re not worth saving, but as quiet as it really is kept, black men are the backbone of our community.  If we’re not here to hold it up, our ‘hoods and families will continue to crumble.  Compound this with the havoc wrought from killing themselves and the fabric of our communities gets torn; sometimes irreparably.

Nothing about suicide is easy to accept, or deal with.  Our aim should be to move the discussion closer to the center of attention.  If more people (especially black men), begin to understand how it affects those left, maybe that will help stem the tide of unnecessary deaths.

Resources

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

http://www.afsp.org/

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 08/08/2013 in Life, Uncategorized

 

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