I Gave You ALL of Me

I gave you all of me.
Every inch, ounce, piece, and bit of me.
Genuinely;
I offered you me, the one that only few bare witness or gain the right to see.
Many wish, desire, and long for me, not one of them could ever be… because only you, could I give my entirety.
Openly;
Why did I give you so much of me?
Certainly; I was stupid to give you my heart, love, and allow you to partake in my ecstasy.
Because clearly, you didn’t want me, only the use of my body.
Damn, this is hard for me, and you never even uttered sorry…
I take it as you being ignorant and immature…
translation: a nobody.
Even presently;
I admire your creativity…
the initial plan, hashed out, implemented, but in the end, it was only you that cashed out.
Then you chalk it up as having clout?
Now that, I highly doubt…
because coward is more befitting, it’s the name you should tout.
You say I should just let it be?
Look at me, do you not see my feelings? Tear stained cheeks…slowly drying.
I wish to rewind, back to the time when m.e. was e.m., still me, only inadvertently. Fast forward…
Now look at me.
Pitiful, sorry, wasted, and abused…
never once did I see any clues.
The way I feel? I ache to heal.
Damaged goods, leftovers, expired, not even recyclables, just someone NOT for hire. When then will I love again?
Unanswered.
I still need time for my heart to mend.
And then… is when I can possibly love again.
Reluctantly; this time, can I only offer glimpses, visuals, some of, and only part of me

Copyright © 2009 Rayne

The Makings of Me

The only Me that there could possibly be:
the loving, compassionate, nurturing, altruistic She; all synonymous depictions of Me
Coinciding with the Me that’s:
self-proclaimed
God ordained
Non-mundane
Her name? Should have been Rayne instead of her government acclaim
Because She reigns……
the inundation of an essence that not even She can explain
Still, fact remains, that only She can ascertain the makings of She
the one they continuously repel Her right to be
Undefined, well refined, the only possession which She has the right to claim as Mine
Who is She?
The one they struggle and blindly fail to see… Translucently
The She that so desperately awaits on the World to see
the She that is inevitably, undoubtedly, unequivocally, undeniably the Underlying

In Me
And in Her growth, the real She discovers what only She could ever fully know. Although some allege to know, don’t believe the hoax
Cause there’s only one Me that She could ever be: and that She lies behind the title, the name, and the makings of Me.



Copyright © 2009 Rayne

Obscure Intent

Look into my eyes and tell me what you see:
An elated openness?
An eager yearning?
The disposition of my inward substance is learning…
to disclose the epitome of me.
Is my intent ambiguous?
Or my feelings merely obsolete?
The expression of the love I have come to know one can only wish to grow.
To evolve and revolutionize.
Or, am I setting myself up for a somber demise?
At times, I feel as though I may have stumbled upon a pleasant surprise…
While others?
I wish to hide…
enamored in full disguise.
Self exile,
wanting to exhale,
hoping that in the process,
the ex’s will somehow fail…
or better yet,
not come to pass.
For in my heart there lives this thing called love,
with intensity quite vast.
"Too fast." you reveal?
My rebuttal…
"What I feel is REAL."
Even still,
this feeling that I now know,
only resides here…
In my heart.
Yours?
Close, but even further apart...
Well at least that’s a start.
Because in order to win, it must first begin, and then…
only time, improvement, and discovery is when…
the once obscure intent can culminate into whatever is meant…
while in the process, I am emotionally spent.
My feelings have yet to relent...
or better yet, circumvent
allowing whatever is meant.
To be.
We?
Only time will tell…
And in the meanwhile,
there remains You, Me, and many possibilities...

Copyright © 2009 Rayne

My Mystery Man

You were once my silent communicator,
and have since gained the title of my “Mystery Man”
The audacity of your bold attempts to intrigue my inner being,
prod and mock my endless thoughts..,..,..
and daringness to keep my mind c8nv8luted remains a mystery.
Why?
Is the question I pose.
Is it that you evoke intricacy, confusion, and complexity
Yet
seemingly, it's quite simple
Our souls effortlessly intertwine;
daringyearningseekinglonging for more…
What is the more?
more answers perhaps.
more of you?
more of me?
more of truth?
The truth that's said to set one
free
Please do not fret, fear, or doubt me my mystery man,
I am someone real
honest
sincere
pure
As a confidante, companion, and friend,
your secrets lie safe with me.
Without biases, judgments, or preconceived notions,
just the eagerness to discover what lies behind the eyes of my mystery man,
to unfold the splendor of your enigmatic being,
and to partake in the pleasure of discerning your true person.
Perhaps
no longer a mere a mystery ??

Copyright © 2009 Rayne

The Silence Has Been Broken (THE INTERLUDE)

You initiated the smile
mine countered yours
then a spoken “Hello” gave a Name to my once Mute Friend
Now that the silence has ceased, I have yet to discover pIeNaNcEeR
My anticipation of what's to follow is rampant
My new found friend, with a name;

has my words been read and felt with the same passion that was input into it?
Were you able to discern the validity of the context while simultaneously replaying the scenario?
Thoughts coupled with abundant questions has risen;

and I contemplate whether I should take, or give-in.
Take away any further possibility of "nothing"

Or give-in to the exhilaration of the feelings that have emerged.
Was the brief exchange an exaggerated fragment of my imagination?
Or does a minute truth reside in our current situation?
It is a new year my friend, and yes this is something quite new
The only question that remains is "Can this be true?"

Copyright © 2008

The Introduction (FOLLOW-UP)

Then the I's and you's b e g i n t o f a d e
No more he's, just WE's.
No more she's, only possibly's; even maybes.
Cause lately, I've been struck by this urge, an onset of emotion.
Thoughts immersed with intricate visuals of US.
Potentially?
Just maybe
Shall we just let it be; The way things once were and have always been?
Our reality is normalcy.
Then the dreams and fantasies, start to succumb me, and it happens:
a whirlwind of violent sensations
h e a r t r a c e
bOdY s H a K e S
oooh the intensity of the aches
I feel the warm desire, as the spark transcends to
a raging fire.
The build up:

ERUPTION… the climax of a sensual seduction
f
o
followed by the sweet sensation
then communication
first the admiration

You had me, you have me, but the question is: “Do you want me?”
The answer. “Yes.” “No.” “Maybe?”
Shall I continue in this bout of written emotion?
Perhaps, our best bet would be to master The Art of a Formal Introduction

Copyright © 2008

Silent Communication (THE PRELUDE)

Tall Stature
caramel coated skin
perfectly toned physique
succulent lips
dreamy eyes
c
a
s
c
a
d
i
n
g
locs
heart-melting smile
Is the visual in the scope of my path when I frequent this locale
I prepare to partake in a full body conditioning, until by some subtle destiny, or calculated fate, you happen to cross my path
Startled, yet pleasantly surprised, our eyes lock.
my mouth waters; throat parched; heart palpitating……
Your looks turn to stares, and you smile with your lips as well as daring eyes
We then exchange mute goodbyes, as you disappear,vanishing with the drift of your stride

You have me mesmerized... fantasizing, dreaming, wishful thinking?
I notice you, noticing me, noticing you.
Words never exchanged, only gazes, stares, and silent forms of communication.
The possibilities have me perplexed, as I attempt to decipher our frequent, yet voiceless communication.
You come alone, I come alone, the chemistry apparent, yet still, we wait.
Patiently.
The anticipation is killing me.
Perhaps it isn't meant to be, or perhaps, it is time...in due time, our paths are bound to collide, and it is then we shall exchange more than our pre-existing silence.
The he's will have a Name, the him's a voice, the she's will be identified, and the her's will have the potential to become his.
Yours.
OURS.
Until some profound change occurs, I shall continue to wait. Patiently, silently, mute.
Copyright © 2008

Let’s Give Them Something to Talk About

You won't fight for Obama and change, but you combat warfare daily on the streets in sheer pain?
Glorifying guns, while they defecate all over our young sons.
The babies can flawlessly recite the lyrics to every song,
but when asked to read a book, they fall silent...the look of dumb!
Infiltrating these young minds, with the repetition of the lyrics they chant,
and you tell them to go to school, the sad excuse given is "I Can't."
You continue to be played for the fool, while our youth constantly drop out of school.
You'd rather have street smarts?
Define it!
Not in Ebonics terms, or are you illiterate? Incapable of constructing a standard sentence.
My heart aches at the revelation of our destiny.
Sitting here with this paper and pen, giving you knowledge on the importance of college, as you remain there listless, remote in hand?
Oh so conspicuous.

You'd rather make love in the club?
Well, wake up!
They are raping our youth!
Compelling them to take the easy way out, dreams of fast money, jobs instead of careers, Bryman College?
Let me school you on some real knowledge.
Put down the bottle and the blunt which enslaves us, pick up your paper and pen, captivate them, and blow out something dangerous.
They spoon you lies, while I feast my eyes on the prize, my struggle and strife is all worthwhile...in immeasurable size.
Accept nothing but the best, that's my constant conquest.
I fear no man but God, Allah, Yahwe. And you can't even fall to your knees and pray! Contradicting yourself while praising man made laws.
Abide? Never. Not to these repulsive flaws.
Preposterous.
The influx of fallacious.
You copulate their fables, while they torture us, puncture us, bestialize and taunt at us.
Leaving us bruised, broken, and tarnished.

Stop laboring their empires, building their dreams, paying you pennies on the dollar, well guess what: multi-billions is what their earnings bequeaths.
You say that I'm the exception?
Whitewashed?
No, I repel stupidity while it's you that's brainwashed.
As their toxins seethe through your brain, tell me who's the one to blame.
Trillion dollar deficit?
Can't fault Bush, or even his followers.
It's you who failed to cast the ballot, putting an end to this malice.
Because for you, just about anything will suffice.
You better start thinking twice, Christ paid the price.
Blood seeping, while we stay weeping; saddened by the tolerance of our people amid this mess...
Who is the man behind my brothers keeping?

Switching from biology to English, I rather write a thesis than to study metaphysics.
Science vs Religion?
I give insight and speak knowledge, that I'm sure most of you won't even bother to acknowledge.
Birthed by my spirit, soaked in nothing but truth.
Which I'm sure you can clearly see, for in my actions, I am living proof.
Give us back our independence, rightful thrones.
Your tenure is over, our life has just begun.

Let's give them something to talk about.





I was nervous as ever, and dead tired after lack of sleep, but I did it. I am so proud of myself. Facing my fears head on each day...I've added another stepping stone! ..

I Have Arrived... 1st Poetry Piece

Having NEVER written a poetry piece, this is what my mind conjured up just now:

When I think of my king,
I see you.
It's in the way you touch me,
gently.
The way you caress me,
passionately.
The way you nurture me,
effortlessly.
The way you love me,
endlessly.
Not on the basis of promise,
rather, the fulfilment of honest.
When I think of my king,
I think of you.
And then there's me.
Like no other.
In full attire,
elegance conspicuous,
intelligence by definition...
the epitome of a queen, you've found it in me.
My substance.
Not in the sway of my hips,
nor the touch of my lips,
but in my ability to make love to your mind ravenously,
your spirit succulently,
your soul substantially...
It's you my king that I see.
Intangible?
Possibly.
But it is my vow,
to never cease;
undying faith,
as I wait for you...patiently.
When I think of you my king,
I envision me.
And then subsequently,
I see WE.
The distinguished duo?
Definitely.
For the world to see...

Copyright © 2008

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings...

Anxiety is what has held me captive for the past twenty-one and a half years. Drug abuse violently disintegrated my family at age five, and in that moment, everything had been stripped away from me. The confidence, the nurturing, and the love which was once instilled in me, had all ceased to exist. My childhood consisted of being pressured into becoming the epitome of perfection. I constantly carried the labels of the "favorite child", the "pretty girl", "intelligent", and "teachers pet" which branded me the black-sheep amongst my family and friends. With no outlet for retreat, I began to shy away as I poured my emotions into my writing, dance, and cries that went unheard. I had always been said to be an eloquent writer, for this was the mechanism I often used to express myself while my voice remained mute. The assumption was that I was weak, when the reality was that I was never built. Like the caged bird that sings, verbal communication was non-existent in my world, so I conformed. Lying dormant and still mute, I awaited my chance to break free.

It wasn't until I reached the age of twenty-three that the startling discovery of my affliction was unveiled. It had taken eighteen years for a close friend of mine to reveal the symptoms and inform me that I was suffering from "social anxiety". Then it all began to make sense. I now understand that the smiles which I wore so frequently were mere gestures of nervousness; The lack of eye contact I subconsciously displayed was visual evidence of my lack of confidence; The need to cover my body and hide behind a jacket or purse, and the sensation of always feeling cold was in fact confirmation of my insecurity. Avoiding conflict, saving face, and being constantly taken advantage of were signs of my passive aggression. Not having the strength to say no, or voice my concerns and feelings freely were signs of my underlying weakness. The overwhelming desire to give an abundance of love, while ignoring the conspicuous signs of infidelity and lies was due to the fear of being alone. In this prolonged state of imprisonment, relentlessly trying to break free, my subtle cries were my only source of comfort, and I wept. Gaining strength with each falling tear, I yearned to be heard. Although my previously perceived "introvert" qualities were now given a confirmed name, I knew that this was still just the first step of my long journey to freedom.

My initial inclination for taking a communications course was to overcome my affliction with Anxiety. As we formed groups and collectively performed tasks and assignments, I gained a bit of confidence with each passing day. The class, only three weeks in length, had given me necessary tools required to build and sustain more meaningful inter-personal relationships. We were given an assignment to research one of the pre-selected topics and deliver a speech about it. Having never delivered a speech or a presentation, I was terribly frightened. Initially, I wrestled with the topic of my speech and the direction in which to present it. On the first day of presentations, I came to class with my prepared speech in hand, but still sensed that something was missing. As I gave my full attention to each speaker, I sought the opportunity to build the confidence to give my speech, but something in me forced me to wait. As I listened to each message, some boring, while others informative, something hit my spirit and compelled me to take my speech into another direction. I couldn't quite gauge at the time that this was the beginning of my spiritual journey of healing, but I obliged, and decided to give my speech a few days later after making several revisions. With each passing day, I'd find myself utilizing the information I gained from the course to better resolve situations I found myself in. The situation that proved to be most detrimental took place the day I was to deliver my speech. My mother who lives in Chicago called me at seven in the morning, yelling in my ear, and attacking my parental skills (for which she never had). Holding a calm demeanor, I didn't get upset, I just simply asked her to not yell at me, and give me the respect I deserved. Her unwillingness to comply took a toll on me, and I politely explained to her that if she could not give me the respect I demanded, I would have to end the call. The conversation ended with her hanging up in my face. Going on three hours of sleep and running late to class, my spirit was broken again, while I attempted to hide behind the façade that everything was okay. I somehow managed to hold it together, destined to not allow her actions to deter me from delivering my speech. My daughter in tow, I asked a friend if she wouldn't mind my daughter sitting in her class because I was uncertain if I could bring her to mine. As the speeches proceeded, I slowly began to lose it, finding myself unable to maintain my composure any longer. Thoughts of my past resurfaced, and I once more succumbed to fear. Fear of judgement, disappointment, rejection, and failure. As the time neared for me to present my speech, a sensation of needing my daughter there overcame me. I went and got her, desperate to "make her proud of me". She has always voiced to me how much she admired me, how I was her hero, and how she wanted to follow in my footsteps. With those phrases tattooed in mind, I slowly found my way to the podium. I thought "I can do this", just focus and remain calm. I wrote my name on the board, then turned to face the class and my daughter. Vulnerable, I looked around and opened my mouth, nothing came out, only silence. Unable to maintain my composure, I broke down and wept. After a few deep breaths, and some sips of water, I stood there again, naked. In a second attempt to exert my freedom of speech right, I managed to get an opening statement out by briefly sharing the events that occurred that morning during the interaction with my mother. I looked out at my daughter, and once again overwhelmed with emotion, I lost it completely. Uncontrollably crying, my daughter exited her seat, and came over to console me. My assurance that I was confident, that I was strong, and that I could do it, came in the form of my six year old daughter. After twenty-six and a half years, my daughter was the one to embed in me what my own mother had once stripped away. In that instant, I knew what I had to do. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled, regaining my composure, I faced the class once more. In full relinquishment, and with my daughter by my side, I delivered my speech. This time the struggle was minor, and although I read from the paper, I made sure to connect with my audience as I presented the speech. At the conclusion of the roughly four minute presentation, I became overwhelmingly empowered. Empowered because I had finally gained the ability to win the battle with my fears; Empowered because my own daughter managed to instill confidence in me for which I had always longed for; And even more so empowered that the succession of my courage moved not only myself, but those present that day to tears. The transformation that had transpired was the power of my inner child finding her voice.


My chains of slavery and bondage have since been broken. I now possess the ability without thought or reason to walk with confidence - my head held high. I am no longer afraid, nor do I surrender to the bondage of "Anxiety". Although a continuous and conscious process, I become stronger with each passing day, and ensure that my voice never goes unheard. The sweet melody, played by the tune of my voice, sings that I have arrived. Set free, like a caged bird spreading her wings for the world to see. Through the power of my experience, and the song of my voice, I now with assurance contend that I have been freed.

Copyright © 2008