http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qw-mItvdS7o

Commonizing the 'C'

Maybe in some ways I have a gripe about religion and religious fanatics who believe the bible is the only roadmap to their version of life-ever-after. What is the point of religion if it creates a superiority complex in the minds of people? Judging those that do not warm church pews on Sunday morning sermons or those who don’t adhere to the virtues of being a good christian...whatever that may be.

Well as far as I can remember from my childhood, sunday-school-forced-to-go-to-classes, Jesus never judged. He loved all equally, yet still many are quick to quote chapter and verse as they see fit to show you up for not being that proverbial ‘good christian’

Someone told me that a good christian does not visit bars, or places themselves in situations to be tested. But then what good is having a strong believe in God and self if we do not put ourselves to the test…and could someone show us these test results.

Indulge me here, this is just me getting ahead of this thought-train. Do you realize that the spell check on your computer always capitalizes the letter ‘C’ in the word christian…I don’t believe all christians are deserving of that uppercase ‘C’. I think I shall revisit this sharing and change the ‘C’ like the way they want to change me. Wow! now my computer says the word ‘christian’ is spelt incorrectly. Maybe they need to feel what politically incorrectness feels like sometimes. Maybe they need their beliefs to be tested, instead of always trying to play it safe.

As far as I remember Jesus never played it safe, he mixed with everyone, saints and sinners and still never judged. But many of our so called christians go above and beyond, placing themselves out of temptation, so that they may not falter, but then again what is faltering? Maybe living your life is faltering.

Well according to their doctrines I have grown up believing that I will never see the light of God, despite the person that they will never take the time to know. And I’ve long ago accepted that, made my peace with it, spoke to the divine creator about, being made in the divine’s own likeness and all.

Let’s examine that, some believe that this likeness resembles only mirror reflections, but mirrors are funny things, reflecting the heart that holds it. But if anyone can hold up a mirror, shouldn’t we conclude that we are all made in the divine’s own likeness.

On a different and personal note when pastor goes to sleep every night being comforted by his spouse, don’t we all deserve to feel that same love, comfort, compassion, passion, oneness that we each strive for, regardless of race, class, sexual orientation, disability, addiction and belief. I am no better than my brother or sister, and they are no better that me…we are here to learn and grown at our own pace…life I believe is an individual path…where we answer not to a congregation, or a pulpit, or to any priests, pastor, pundit, imam or tree but to God, Jah, Nature, Jesus, Allah, Shiva, Jehovah, whomever our hearts speak to.

a sneak from the book

(a sneak from the book)

i’ve been meaning to write this poem since April

when the Poui trees came into bloom

and I don’t know you well enough

to sneak into your house and scatter

yellow Poui petals on your bed

won’t run the risk of being thrown out

by the length of my locks

that I will gladly trace your body with

or told ‘I just don’t feel the same,

but we can still be friends’

and although I may prefer another ‘f’ word

perhaps my mind and heart can get ahead of myself

maybe you’d tell me to ‘come here’

and in that case I’d scoop you up and

physically take you to this yellow bed-garden

welcome you with a kiss

day-dreaming until reality wakes me

you know I’d settle for friendship

after seeing the beauty of your soul

the purity of your heart

mind-flirting as I gaze into your eyes

pondering as to what your pillow-talk may sound like

and this is no silly school-girl crush

despite how it feels

heart unlocked

spread open exposing all that is delicate to me

and from where I stand

I will gladly be your wife.

© 2008 paula obè

a new year begins

Love is strange yet beautiful. I am racking my brain to remember the effects of love’s anticipation…and I am left void of memories. Maybe it never happened, maybe it is yet to happen. Maybe all this time, all these experiences were preparing me to accept and recognize it when I am confronted by its knock.

I’ve been writing this poetry book about soul mates, well actually my soul mate. The book is a gift of moments, of the anticipation of love’s arrival, for you, whom ever you may be. I wonder how we’d recognize each other. How do you recognize the person you’d want to call home. I believe that line came from an Ani Di Franco's song.

I dream in voices, and I’ve heard your voice a million times, gentle and strong, whispering sweet some-things like a morning’s breeze. I’ve scattered poui petals on our bed with kisses that trace every inch of that dream…and you.

But dreams get interrupted by sunlight…so I will stand in its glory, facing the east so that I may see your face, your smile your wisdom. In the mean time, I will live my life knowing that when the universe is ready, so am I.

truths

She shifts attention from selfish need to selfish need. Tears in hand trying to explain a bag filled with the sorry explanations she takes out and use accordingly. Most people will acknowledge vices of substance use or abuse, but what happens when the substance takes on human traits and characteristics, a heart and a name.

She shifts attention from one to the next and back to herself, painting illusions of stability and love, caring and heart. Except for the fact, that it’s all done in the name of selfish game, or gain, as she fills her soul with the hearts of those who loved her. They say loosing the one you love through some form of deceit can create a state of animosity that clouds perception. I wish this was the case, I wish I was just bitter and this was just some jilted ranting.

Let’s call her emotionally dangerous. She is earth but moves like fire, destroying pathways of friendship and love. Her blaze captures you in its brilliance, but eventually the smoke clears and the wind blows and subdues the fire. She is love that seeks the company of a lover and that lover’s friend, a love that draws triangles, dipped in gasoline and then sets it ablaze. I am wind.

Wind is two-spirited, gently and strong, masculine and feminine. It can shift direction in a second. I refuse to carry the stench of blood and deceit on my journey to possibilities. The one that will never carry the sound of your name to bed, like I had done before despite what my spirit guides said. Despite the fact that I saw deceit and danger in your eyes, yet I ventured in the trap you baited. As I stand back, away from your danger, I see the traps you continue to set, baiting lovers and their friends, playing them both against each other, so that they may fight over you.

Sadness is the individual who feels powerless that they feel a need to create their fantasies. Danger is bringing those fantasies to life at the risk of another’s pain. At the risk of broken friendships and hearts…while your tears create doubts in the minds of those you claim to love, but use for your pleasure. But karma has a way of manifesting truths…you probably don’t even know yours.

Reclaiming me

I am reclaiming my space, my voice, my likes and dislikes, I am reclaiming me. Sometimes when we make deep connections with someone, we tend for their likes to become ours, their musical taste to slowly slip into our CD drive, until your 6CD changer now holds 5 of their favourites and one of yours.

I am reclaiming my music. This morning I filled my CD drive with cds of all my old familiar sounds and sung to the top of the car roof…I felt liberated and happy.

Then you find yourself cooking their favourite food, and forgetting what is yours, quietly brain washing our taste pallets into believing that this tasteless dish in front you, was always your number one pick.

This afternoon I will make a detour to the supermarket and try to jog my memory into remembering what I truly love.

I am reclaiming my favourites. Maybe this result from wanting to please, and while we are busy pleasing others, who pleases us, besides memories.