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poetry

Yes that’s right, I am saved.
You call me a church girl, I’ll be that too. Yes I do believe in miracles. Yes, I do credit my father in heaven for every fiber of my being. That’s right I am a living testimony. I own my story, how about you. You darn skippy I think I’m all that, don’t you think that of yourself too? How could I ever think any less of me, when my father is the Most high God, the only God, the true God and because he chose me, just as he chose all, I have the right to believe I’m all that. That’s right I am full of imperfections and make mistakes sometimes even daily. That’s right I keep trying until I get it right. Yes I’m difficult, yes I’m complicated too. That’s right I’m smart. That’s right, I’m far from a being fool. That’s right I don’t allow those in my space who I don’t feel are truly ordained by God. That’s right, I am a better person than I was just yesterday. That’s right I put God first, and my kids are soon behind. That’s right I am lead by faith and not by sight. That’s right, I decide when I’ll say, what I’ll do and if I’ll allow. Yes I am sensitive, and it’s true, I often cry to free myself. That’s right I come to the table wearing not a mask but exposing who I truly am. Do you? That’s right I’m fiesty. That’s right, I’ll read you from A-Z if I need to. That’s right I don’t pick up wooden nickels, strays, or unnecessary distractions. Yes I’m a strict disciplinarian, no I don’t take no mess. Yes, I do expect the best out of my kids, just as my father God expects of me. That’s right I don’t have a man or husband just for the sake of saying I have one. That’s right the man I choose has to come correct and be right to the 10th power, you darn skippy, I ain’t excepting anything less. Yes, I trust God in every way, even in the area of love, I leave it up to him. That’s right I could care less what you are doing in your life, but yet all you seem to think about is me. Who knew.. I have so much left of me to work on, to get right that to worry about others would just be a distraction and as I said, I don’t do that. Yea, my main focus is total surrender and being the woman that God wants me to be, after all, I aim not to please man, but to please him… That’s right. It’s 2013 and I’m still the mother, the writer, the poet, the servant, the voice of the voiceless, the activist, the child of the most high God. My tomorrow just got better.. Still keeping my faith one step at a time. That’s right. It’s true.

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It’s amazing the talents that our kids posses and we don’t have a clue. Well. I’m guilty of not knowing a few things. Me, with all my probing and utter nosiness, still managed to be completely unaware that my son is a baby poet. He has a small book that he’s been working on since the beginning of the school year. His teacher sent it to me, with an inclosure detailing how great his writing and poetry had become. It was graded A++ and I was grinning from ear to ear! He got it from his Momma. Finally, one of them takes a little bit of what I have to offer. He was shy about it, but I could sense he really enjoyed the attention, and the acknowledgement of his work. Now I’m in his ear, like hey son, let’s write some poetry! Ha!

There are several tidbits of loveliness in his poems and he agreed to let me post a few of my favorites from his little book.
Birth
As the flowers were blooming, so was I. Born in a busy hospital room.
My Mom crying tears of joy.
My Dad, patiently holding her hand.
I came too fast for the doctor, the the way I am- sudden.
To hear my Mom tell it, I was full of life and very happy.
They named me Donte’ Julian. Donte after my uncle and Julian after my great-grandad.
They had a plump baby boy that was smiling 24/7.
They got me just the way I was supposed to be, with a fondness for laughing at the silliest things and being excited and hopeful for the future.
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I am
A skipping pebble, hopping off the water.
I am a small swift chipmunk, weaving through the trees.
I am a growing 12 year old boy at the peak of my prime, like the glowing orange sun
I am the busy New York City
I am a speeding cyclone, wrecking the world with my wit and intelligence.
Like an extravagant fireworks show on the 4th of July
I am Donte’
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Happiness
I dream that I was in a place where everything was exciting, colorful, and bright.
Like a huge rainbow
Everywhere I looked I saw children playing and Popsicles melting.
I could forever hear the sound of laughter and joy.
Everything felt so happy and joyful.
Like a breezy summer day.
This land was everyone’s comfort place, an adventure, a wonderland.
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Awwww, weren’t those poems adorable. I just love them and all the potential. I ask him if he enjoys writing and he tells me, it’s ok. Naturally, I want him to love it as I do. Anyway, this situation just reminds me that I need to dive a little deeper into the minds of my children. You never know what secret talents they may be harboring. I know that my oldest daughter is an excellent artist, I mean can draw like nobodies business, but she isn’t passionate about it. I use to encourage her in it, and had her in all types of activities geared towards the arts, but as she got older, she strayed away. Lately, I’ve been nagging her about drawing me a cheap fab mom logo. I’m still waiting. Lol..
I know that my 15 year old is very creative in the arts and fashion. She alters almost every piece of clothing she owns in some way or another and it’s always easy on the eyes. The stuff she comes up with is fabulous. Extremely creative. The five year old told me she wants to be on the stage and I believe her. She can dance and sing very well. For those of you who have children, do they have any hidden talents? Some that maybe you weren’t aware of? Perhaps you already know and have been sleeping on it, or you are unaware like I was. As my grandmother would say, “one things for certain, and two things for sure”, It’s time we tap into these young minds and roll out the carpet to carry them to their fullest potential.

Oh yea, notice anything? Anything? Well let me help you out. I have been consistent with my post this past week. Yay me!!! I think it has to do with the fact that my stress level is down a thousand since I left that place I use to work at. I’ve had a lovely week. I’ve been settling nicely into my new role and doing a lot of compliance training and such. A lot of cleaning of my new office as it was truly dusty. I love my new office space though. Next week, I’ll start to hang pictures and artwork so it can start feeling a little more like me. Here are a few pics of the space:

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The view from my window

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Here’s what I’m wearing today:
Top- TJMax
Pants- Kohl’s
Shoes- Target
Earrings- Shoppers World
Rings- thrifted
Bracelets- payless, shoppers world

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Lil Miss 5 had a winter program in school today. She had to wear blue/white, but I didn’t feel like the frilly dress or a skirt, so she wore:
Top- Target
Denim Jacket- Target
Leggins- Old Navy
Shoes- Harijuku Mini by Gwen Stefani

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Have a wonderful weekend everyone!
Peace and blessings,
Dee

Hello Dears
Let’s mix it up a bit. I’m already late as I planned to post this earlier in the morning. I digress. Oh well, there is no better time than the present, and I’m on it now! Lol.. This post is kinda lengthy, but worth it. Sit tight, and cop a squat.

Moving right along.

I really like the definition of mingle, and mix & mingle is more a play on words as it relates to my post today. For starters the word “Mingle” means: mix or cause to mix together: “an expression that mingled compassion and bewilderment”. To move freely around a place or at a social function, associating with others”.

So my Dears, I want you to think of my blog as a place to move around and get a full on mix of everything you may need to get you through your day. I want this to be a place of comfort, hope, and relatable experiences. Many of us are more alike than we are different. It’s sounds good for someone to be constantly happy, never experiencing any pain or disappointment or feelings of worthlessness. If every single second of every day is happy happy, joy, joy, then someone is kidding themselves. The issue is, that we don’t share our hurts, mishaps and disappointments. I’ve been guilty of this myself, but then if I don’t share, how can I inspire? Not saying you should share your whole self, but you know, pick and choose your audience. You never know who may be sitting front row needing a word from you. I have my good and bad days, same as anybody else. Things don’t always go the way I expect, sometimes I’m going in circles, and it’s no use in me pretending that I am completely perfect on all levels, because it’s just not true. Sometimes, I literally have to push myself and talk to God just to get out of the bed in the morning. This single mother thing is no field trip through ice cream valleys, and sugar cone streams. It’s hard. I thank God for his hand on my life, and for the support system he has set in place for me. I was twenty-seven years old when I lost my mother, and although I miss her beyond what words can express, God has afforded me the opportunity to come across other mothers who have loved me, and encouraged me as if I were their own. It’s remarkable the women of phenomenal distinction I’ve crossed paths with. Oh the honor. Everyday that I go on, that I write, and I encourage another, I am paying honor to them who have done the same for me. I press.

I’ve been having conversations with an exceptionally rare gem. A single mother, strong, anointed, gifted, and powerful. A wise one, with dreams that go beyond the scope of humanization, dreams that could only be painted by God. I am not going to expose her, but incase she happens upon my blog, she’ll know, this is for her. I believe in you, and it’s for good reason. When you get discouraged, just come here, and get an ounce full of hope to keep pushing. Don’t settle for less, and know your worth. You are even worth so much, that the devil is fighting Jesus for you. We wage war against the enemy, and I declare with authority from the most high that he is defeated. We press.

I stand
You laugh and mock the life I made for you. How did I get here. Stripped of myself, my beauty, and dreams.

Naked before you, and the world. I can’t hide the truth of it all. I gave it all, and tried with my best try, and it still shattered before my eyes.

Before days light, I’ve cried an ocean for you and with every tear, I lost a part of me. I’m tumbling through life and it’s chaotic. Desperately seeking a peak of the woman I use to be. The calm comes when I just stand. Something tells me, Woman, you must stand!
I hear laughter, and children playing on the carousal of life.
I feel the heat of myself and I quiver with anticipation of meeting me again.
I stand tall.
And you, are a distant memory of tears dried by the sun of the new day’s light.
I am me again.
Breathing, living, beautiful, fearfully and wonderfully living my dreams.

That was for somebody, who ever the shoe fits, wear it and know, you are not alone.
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It seems it’s been so long since I’ve done an outfit post. Not that I couldn’t have, I just haven’t. Well, I’m challenging myself to do this no less than 3-5 times this week. Ha! We shall see. I love this outfit, and with the weather changing, my mood is too. I felt like mixing it up, wishing for spring time. That’s where these cute little peach pants came into play. I found these thrifting a few months back and I had them dry cleaned and kinda forgot about them. This fabric is like, butter. I can’t describe it, they just feel good.
I hope you enjoy the outfit, and my mix and mingle post. Let me know and thanks for reading.

I’m wearing:
Glittered tank- thrifted
Military Blazer- F21
Slacks- thrifted
Leopard pumps-Amsterdam boutique
Jewelry- H&M

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Yay me!! Outfit post accomplished!

Peace and blessings,
Dee

Say what?
Sometimes, you have to do a double take at some of the things you hear. You might have to lean back, with a mean side eye as you mouth the words “say what?
I rode the train for work today and a lady was riding with two small children. The youngest looked like he was about one years old. He cried the whole way. After a while, the mom yells at him, “man , shut up I don’t have no candy man, y’all get on my F**** nerves crying all the time, shut up”.
Say what?
I cringed on the inside.
That poor baby immediately began to cry a river of tears, but this time it was different, these cries came deep from within, a place of hurt. She hurt that little one with her screaming, ranting, and raving. I wanted so badly to snatch him up in my bosom and soothe him and tell him that everything would be alright. I watched and his image lingered in my mind long after the bell sounded for his cries to exit the train. The mom didn’t have any shame. None at all. If she screamed like that on a public train, it’s no telling what she gave those kids at home. It made me wonder who was she, where’d she come from and how was she raised. Was she hurting? Abused? A drug addict? Overwhelmed? Am I judging her? Yes, I totally am. By nature, this is what most of us do. I don’t know her story, but the circumstances prompted me to break out a pen, my notebook, and here is what I came up with.
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Don’t look at me with disgust in your eyes. If you don’t know my name, then you don’t know my shame.

She gave birth to me, but she was not present. She disappeared from my life before I could ever call her Ma-Ma.
She left me to cradle in my own arms. Singing lullabies to myself at night, and eating dry cereal in the morning.
Growing.
From pilar to post.
In her sights and out again. She gave me up and came back again. This time wearing a shinny ring and holding hands with a new daddy. She said, “from now on baby, life is good”.
He bounced me on his knee and tickled my fancy with treats.
He tried to ignite me with passions a young girl should never be made to understand.
Closing my eyes tight.
Ugly, terror, horrifying, imagery of golden lilies and death caskets.
I want to die.
Eyes tightly shut, but try as I might, death will not come.

I tell Ma-Ma to remove that shinny ring from her finger because her new found daddy is a new found disaster.
In one swoop.
She packs my life, my dry cereal and sends me away never to return.
A new place, hardly a home.
Now I’m fighting, stealing, screwing, and strutting.
I light my own flame, and I am high.
I powder my own nose, and I can breathe.
I am sick by morning, and thirsting for more powder and flame by night.
No period
No monthly
No 28 days til the next one, but 9 months later a new life is born.
He sings lullabies to himself while eating dry cereal.
I’m here, but I’m not present.

The cycle continues.
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Yup, I broke out the pen and pad and started writing my Dears. That’s how the situation made me feel. Sometimes, without thinking, we judge people (myself included) without knowing the circumstance nor thinking of why the other person has the wrong behaviors. By nature, I’m an advocate for those who otherwise may not have a voice. My heart leaped for the kids, but after thinking, and writing, I felt something for the mom too. I’m not preaching, just reminding that sometimes we have to think outside what looks right, to get inside of what is right. Mom had some issues and it came from somewhere. I’m praying for her and those innocent helpless babies today.

Peace and blessings
Dee