There are fake Roman numerals boasting
Across books and journals
Numerous real world works roasting
blank thoughts by the fire place
Where we watch Roots and wade in temporary memories
Of neck chains and bling-blings,
Of misery’s broken feet and hobbled legs,
of cobbled stones down by the lake
Where fantasies of broken promises are made
beneath cracked tiles where tortured babies in anguish lay
How that hot civilization of beaded black bodies
…was summoned
for greater days

In slithery detail
To prevent a Saul-like episode
From being curtailed along the roadside
While Gentile women and Jewish men
Lay prone bedside
Where one drop rules are thrown
Out of the window
Where honed are skills of last resort
Shone and learned but not so simple
As never remembering the blue sky that day
Where the sunlight melted onto slave backs that swayed,
not forth or back but up and down
No spirituals unsung or whip marks fazed out

I am floating over my ancestors
Half the soul – I once was
where women were covered head to toe
By strong black family men,
bearing scars proud and bold
in bright angry lashes they came
Till boiled over, where brown and black skin shaped
Smooth and beautiful, when brown and black skin fades
And a room full of white sin forbades,
The skin bearing the darkest of nights shade
Where light changes frequency and energy never depletes
It becomes the sun and its mood swings

Satin gossamer shapes form reflections of light
as butterfly wings light up the sky
Like with love it seems
It is not all backwards
How spirals spiral in control
Not out of notebooks or thin margins
Marching plainly in numbered twos
Bic Atlantis and Sharpie Accents
Fine points precisely following rules
Blank pages against white backgrounds
Black washed by highlighted queues
Showing that love always serves a purpose
Reaching a point to the highest altitude

Related posts:

1. Deciphering A Purpose
2. Love Is Imperfect Perfection
3. I Want You

Original article: What Purpose Love Serves

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

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1. A Need To Fill
2. Thoughts In Constant Motion
3. I Want You

Original article: The Panic Attack

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Original article: This is not your average post

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

vi-ol-et.deviantart.com

Missing the touch

That sent me over the edge

Before the parting of ways

Came full speed ahead

This loss and distance resounds in echoes of sleepless

Nights spent

Wallowing in tears of long gones and regret

This lover knows no better

Than to believe she was the best

No one else could drape me in their golden hazes

Moments of clarity that hardly change the past

How we minded each others hearts

While dancing intoxicating movements

How your heart still resides well within my breast

How you remain this: the better half of my better half

How you were never merely just a guest

Set to rearranging my prolonged self reflects

A task you took to heart with stealth

How still it felt when you entered my life

My calm in the midst of whirled winds felt right

Those volumes of life we clasped onto dearly

Creating our story on pages fading as fast as spirits searing

Once doubting the audacity of what forever meant

’till these crimson tears formed pools of effervescence

Scarce was the manner in which our time together grew

Slowly coating the agony in her absence

The only love I grew accustomed to

The scent of my woman stays encased in absinthe brew

The sun shines a little more with each day passing

The moon is full bright reviving nights better spent tasking

And not thinking or becoming accustomed to lonesome content

So a broken heart – can sew itself back together and mend

Too many emotions unburied and unspent

Caused hand trembling and unhurried thoughts to be more distant

Almost made me lose sight of her figment

Oh how I wish the constant longing didn’t present itself as

Bags under eyes and sleepless nights impacted

How broken sleep does oft come twice, in fact

Days filled with passion rearing ugly thoughts heads

Yet all I can think of is zombie filled graves

And how your ashes save face and how those gray areas never shade

And our love never wanted an out, an escape

Just forever through whatever – we were on our soul mate kick

Every time sleep breaks I’m reminded of this

The fate we tempt each time life sneaks up quick

The strength we expend dismisses any negativity flowing

The way we reveal our love because love is all knowing

Negativity and distrust – how quickly they dissipate

And how me loving you will never eventually fade

Related posts:

1. A Need To Fill
2. Times Waits For Love
3. A Woman’s Touch Feels Oh So Good

Original article: Missing The Touch

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

It has the tendency to exploit weaknesses, manifested as intense feeling and strong emotion about any and everything. It tends to place these precious vulnerabilities into tiny unkempt boxes, daring you to compartmentalize all that you have been bottling up to that moment. Boxed in like a baby cow waiting to become someones second course veal. Yes, it’s just like that. But when the mind, heart and body are nearly symmetrical in alignment, even through the grief there exists no pressing need to compartmentalize any emotion that is aptly dealt with in the manner that it occurs.

When I account for my feelings and they are expressed exactly as they arise, it compels me to do the exact opposite of compartmentalization; I’m forced to come to terms with the explosive, fresh, raw emotion that gives way whenever my heart or mind dictate. This has the tendency to give my sensibilities a tsunami-sized dose of whiplash a couple hundred times a day or more depending on  how quickly those emotions come and go. But the beauty in that allows a special kind of  permeance to flow through; allows me to receive my emotions raw and unfiltered so that I can process what comes in its due time.

Grief is fueled by love.

And losing your soul mate, best friend and lover (all in one) leaves a hole so deep and gaping that when it finally stops bleeding you’re left wondering how that hole will ever fill up again. Will I ever be the same? Of course not, I am forever changed. And because of that I’ve decided to live with the hole for as long as it takes the quick sands of time to refill it. The void will refill when my spirit is ready. It is the only way.

It’s getting there, slowly but surely. I know it’s time to get back on the grind of living, loving anew, and especially – writing. Instead of relentless darkness and a bleak future outlook blocking out the sunlight that’s straining to saturate me all over, I see that hope lives and the possibilities for the future are as endless as they always were.

Death is final.

Coming to terms with the fact that that person is never coming back is the toughest path to travel and the hardest road to cross. But when you have crossed that intersection and fully understand the navigation required, there exists an understanding that eventually things will be okay. That’s what I keep telling myself. Everything will fall into its respective place, and it will.

Going back to work two weeks after Kelly died helped me begin the healing process. It jump started the shock that my system would endure the weeks following her death. Even now, on occasion I am sharply reminded of the agonizing despair I initially felt over losing my love. Despair has been replaced with hope. Spending every day with my daughter in the wake of her step-mom’s death has become my life force. We always treasured the times we were together with our daughter, but now those moments mean something more dear to me than I could have ever previously realized.

To live with purpose is the meaning of life.

My laugh returned a lot quicker due to the strength of the bond I’ve developed with my daughter – not knowing that it could possibly be any stronger than it was prior to. Studying, researching and getting my hands on every book I could that referenced grief, mourning and loss in some manner has been a priceless gift and quite humbling to add.  I knew I would not accept therapy or grief counseling due to my ridiculously stubborn nature, but reading of others experiences has helped me tremendously through the struggle.

I wanted to manage what I could on my own, and I think I’m doing a pretty good job of it.

The feeling of emptiness that permeated my soul in the wake of my girlfriend’s death has almost completely retracted its hold on me. I no longer feel alone, because I never was. She is with me every single day. Although I am adapting to my new life, it is still so unfamiliar.

She wasn’t considered my better half because that phrase simply sounds good on paper or is well constructed for lip service. It is because she brought out the very best in me, and I am putting to practice a concept that she and I always held dear to our hearts.

Hope floats

Love doesn’t die

…people do.

Related posts:

1. A Solitary Excursion
2. A Labor of Love
3. Living in the Moment

Original article: Love Never Dies

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

Related posts:

1. Deciphering A Purpose
2. Things Fall Together
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Original article: A Need To Fill

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

All Christen Calhoun really wants is to be a successful photographer, love a beautiful woman, and make her father proud, but easier said than done. When she graduates from Savannah State University, a dead end bank job isn’t what she had in mind. She stifles her creativity in bland business suits while her camera collects dust in the corner of her modest studio apartment. Her inability to decipher lust from love often leaves her sexually satiated, but emotionally bereft. When her soul is drained, as well as her bank account, will she take the advice of her father, Pop Calhoun, and find a good man? When she no longer recognizes her own reflection, she realizes she isn’t willing to give up anymore of herself to earn approval from her father. When Pop loses an unexpected battle with cancer, does she continue to push her dreams aside or is she finally honest with the girl in the mirror?

The Book Review

As it relates to writers… there are people in this world we pass by without giving a second thought or a passing glance to the work they have created. That work is sometimes visible to those who know but for some reason their spirit remains passively contained even in the midst of a moving crowd. I have concluded that these particular individuals have an innate humility that has long been tempered and harnessed within. They are humble and bright; geniuses of their own accord and in their own right. They remain invisible to those who will eventually know better. This manner of invisibility rarely if ever persists because <some> (most) if not [all] of them have amazing stories to tell; if only we’d take the time to listen and hear well.

As I have previously written, there is a blogger whose writing has always impressed me. She goes by the pseudonym – Alix B. Golden. She is a carefully crafted writer who knows more than what is necessary to keep a reader engaged. Her debut novel is no different and I believe it is safe to say, her writing makes it feel as though you are an intricate part of her story.

Alix B. Golden wrote a prequel to the book review that follows. That book is titled Girl, Shattered. Golden was good enough to follow up her prequel novel with a highly engaging, greatly anticipated, published debut  – Girl in the Mirror. It continues the story of Christen Kalhoun, narrated from the first person perspective. The story delves into Christen’s vulnerable mind state and captures in one sweet moment at a time the drama surrounding her personal life and all it encompasses, particularly where matters of the heart reside. Rest assured that you can read Girl in the Mirror without having first read Girl, Shattered.

Thoroughly appreciating the cleverly styled mix of strong and appealing characters with just the right pinch of dervishly whirled drama, I eagerly devoured this 200 page book in a matter a days. The best part about the novel is its realistic and sympathetic plot which should appeal to just about any woman who has ever desired the love and appreciation of another while also questioning her sexuality in the process. In other words, most women will be able to relate to the the story leaping off the pages of the book – revealing Golden’s keen eye for insight into the life of the passionate, single woman.

This novel offers a nicely balanced mixture of brutal honesty, refreshing realism, unspoken love, agonizing loss, and the intensity of lust personified through insurgent romance. This novel should be required reading for any woman, lesbian in particular, who has ever struggled with the dangerous habit of confusing lust with love and eventually finding redemption while looking through the eyes of the girl in the mirror.

The novel could be a memoir for any new school lesbian that has yet to encounter the many pangs of heartbreak. The way Golden depicts Christen Kalhoun’s escapades resolves that we at least try to understand her limited perception of love and how it indirectly affects almost every area of her life. Where one half of the cup represents a new found financial stability, the other half reflects a major missing piece; the fulfillment of the healthy, loving relationship Christen so badly wants. What she doesn’t realize is that relationship she seeks can only be found in herself before the other half can be found in someone else. The girl in the mirror sees the cracks she has inflicted reflected back on to her and the void left behind when ever she satisfies an empty carnal desire, which always comes at an unrelenting emotional cost.

I love that I can reminisce on some of my previously failed relationships while reading certain scenes in the book. I also appreciate the author’s ability to place minute themes into the story line which periodically caused a double take. By re-reading a line here or there and then silently exclaiming “ah-ha!” at the realization that multiple plots have come together nicely and set the stage. It is a mechanism that makes any author’s writing style uniquely theirs and Golden pulls this off flawlessly, the whole story throughout.

Having been exposed to the multitude of secondary characters, the good news is they are all easy to follow and they fit right into the story perceptively.  Christen’s childhood friend Syd; the strong, silent type who has cared for Christen’s ailing father while she was off in Savannah trying to make a good life for herself. Then there’s Mason; tall, dark and handsome. He is the male archetype that almost every lesbian has had the pleasure or displeasure of meeting at some point in life. He has a formidable sexual energy that initially gives Christen a run for her money. Being wooed by Mason casts further doubt about her sexually, but is falling in love with a man on Christen’s agenda? His gentle yet persistent nature evolves in a way that eventually convinces Christen that maybe her father was right all along. She simply needs a good man to sweep her off her feet to find happiness.

The characters are well written, whether of the garden variety or an artistic blend of individual uniqueness, they are all separate people with their own penchants for love, lust and everything in between. This array of supporting characters is as clearly defined and fully three-dimensional as the main character.

Contrary to what one might expect from the title – Girl in the Mirror is a story about identity, courage and vulnerability when faced with the everlasting desire for love and happiness. Christen’s addiction to high risk relationships laced with unhealthy build ups of sexual desire land her in the most precarious situations. While her need to fulfill carnal desires are more subtle initially and completely devoid of strong emotional connection we find that Christen is in fact very protective of her truest emotions and guarded to the point of compartmentalizing them as a defense tactic.

She is attractive and intelligent, although at times seriously lacking common sense which is repeatedly tested; for instance, when she decides to trust in the throbbing ache of her pussy time and again instead of curing the problem which lies in the throbbing loneliness of her heart. She chooses to place band-aids on her wounds instead of healing the previous broken hearts that opened them.

Even Christen’s attraction to Syd, her child-hood best friend and close friend of the family, is as two-fold as their current relationship. The love between them appears significantly, almost reassuringly subtle. Although her heart has always been safe with Syd she isn’t sure she is ready to take the relationship beyond what it is; an intense platonic love. And neither is Syd from the looks of it.

It is Christen’s coming of age that gives me the slightest pause. As she climbs out of the shell she’s been trapped in, we the reader climb out with her. The expectations of her father, Pops, have awakened somewhat of a panic in Christen and now it’s up to her to figure out what she not only wants out of life, but what she truly needs from it.

Golden’s keen eye for character and situational details lies directly in the details. She did not disappoint in that respect. The plot, carefully woven, takes on a plethora of twists and turns that is unexpected and may seem unremarkable at first but every one is deliberate, fluent and well crafted. It may not be immediately noticeable because she cleverly masks that eye for detail by refusing to acknowledge the well arranged twists and turns, instead leaving the reader to navigate those well charted depths alone until they are later explained.

The sex scenes are described in the most tantalizing detail; they are indeed graphic but not overly done, and if you are shy you will be left blushing and perhaps some other unspoken words. The eroticism in Christen’s liaisons and the way she gives her body to her lover reveals a deep seated outlet for her insatiable desires. The sex scenes are full of sensuality, passion, vulnerability and extreme realism.

This is a coming of age story for the mature, sexy reader who may at one time or another have been the girl in the mirror.

Pre-order at www.alixbgolden.com.

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1. Review: No Love Lost by Shaun J. Phree, Phreedom Books
2. Review by Zack Rosen: Stephen King and The Case of the Psychotic Lesbian
3. Introducing Rebel & Rene

Original article: Review: Girl In The Mirror by Alix B. Golden [Paperback]

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

Each person’s healing path is different and unique to that individual. My own has grown out of a basic need to survive this final episode, based not only on personal experience and new-found resources discovered along the way, but on the knowledge that it is critical that I not completely shut down subsequently shutting everyone out.

There exists in me a strong determination that I cannot allow my girlfriend’s death to kill me too. I have a daughter who needs me and there is still so much love in my heart to give and so much more that I want to receive eventually. I am overflowing with a need and a desire to reconnect; to feel loves unwavering strength again and that has not changed. I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing; I am living through the pain. Pushing it not aside but to the forefront so that I can conquer it and replace it with spiritual gain manifesting into positive energy.

My girlfriend’s death was a rude awakening from a  comfortably lazy slumber. I realize that I am left wide open and somewhat vulnerable in the aftermath. I’m definitely outside of my element while existing in this unfamiliar physical and emotional state. My consciousness not colliding was singularly dependent upon expressing the most raw of emotions during the initial grief stage. I went all out; I cried to the point of exhaustion, screamed into my pillows at night, felt intense anger, loneliness and fear at moving on with my life without her by my side, etc. I am still dealing with the process but with the realization that it does get better and I am more than allowed to feel all of these things.

As far as grief and pain go, I was a book that no one wanted to open let alone read because the cover was in such disarray. But that didn’t stop people from reaching out to me anyway. I felt such anger at the loss of the only life I’d known. The anger has now subsided and I’m not even left with a hole where it once was. That hole began to fill immediately upon coming to some terms, and I am left healing. I wonder if it’s happening too fast, too slow, too soon, too this – too that. In the end, we all take our own path and we heal in our very own right and that’s that.

Healing goes much faster when the pain is smothered with love.

To keep some semblance of balance, I’ve relied heavily on my strong sense of self. Forcing my emotions to stay in check has caused my spirituality and faith to realign once again. My connection to the universe, both positive and negative, has been the life force working  the energies through and within me.  I feel them daily on such a considerable level. Totally awed to be inspired by ones own mettle.

I consider being in tune with my spiritual needs to be the liberating force in my ability to see myself through this damned grief. I consider that spirituality to be sacred, untouchable and lacking any religious under or overtone – it is simply that which has allowed me to stand strong and to value everything good and bad in life even through death.

I suspect I will never quite reach the end of my longing for what once was. I have loved and lost in the truest sense of the word and for that I am grateful to have experienced the extremes of both. But, ultimately, I am forever changed. I see everything differently now – and that takes some getting used to.

In the midst of simply living I constantly remind myself that there are others around me grieving for my late girlfriend too. All of our lives, as they were once defined when she was still alive, will never continue as they once were. We are all changed and the way we live our lives follows suit. We are all navigating uneasy waters using survival skills we’ve accumulated along the way.  Trying to live as if nothing has changed makes it damn near impossible to actually advance and progress from this varied emotion-filled state, and it is highly not recommended to live that way. To add, not recognizing that it’s impossible to carry on as before can eventually lead to self-destruction.

My girlfriend use to always say, “You have to live life to the fullest,” and that’s exactly how she tried to live on a daily. I always thought it impossible, but it was always the thought behind the action that counted. I get it now. In the aftermath of her death her words have stuck to me in a different light, and they challenge me to move on carefully in my new life. One day at a time. Until I accepted that, I knew I would be living a very sad existence for God knows how long rather than living the life I am now becoming accustomed to.

One and a half months have passed and the transition to this new reality has been more fluid than I initially imagined it would be. I miss her and think of her every single day. I still mourn my life with my girlfriend but I also realize that that life is over. A part of you dies with the person you so loved. My girlfriend was so special to me and I can honestly say she will never be replaced.

I look forward to the day when my most meaningful memories of her no longer invoke pain, but instead are realized as a natural part of who I am and most importantly who I once was. This promise of what’s to come has afforded me immeasurable strength.

Our hearts are big enough to deal with grief and happiness and we don’t have to deny ourselves one to feel the other.

Related posts:

1. Love Never Dies
2. The Longest Day
3. One Day at a Time

Original article: A Solitary Excursion

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

I picked up my cell phone which was wet from my tears. The touch screen had become unresponsive due to the moisture. I’d been on the phone with my mom for the greater part of the evening. She had become my stress release in the weeks prior to and leading up to that night, but that night in particular she had become my backbone – my guardian angel in the flesh, and her spirit held me up as I faced the inevitable. I held my girlfriend’s hand in mine and watched over her as her breathing waned and her heartbeats fluttered less and less, her body preparing itself to drift away. I was choked up at the sight of it but my mom talked me through every waking moment. I checked her pulse compulsively as we were at home and not in the hospital, and those things become all the more pertinent as your loved one nears their end. I talked to my girlfriend as my mom talked to me and soothed my fears. I updated her by the second as best I could as to what was transpiring right before my eyes.

As the time drew nearer my mom cried with me as I watched my girlfriend slowly slip away. Her bright light dimmed and she took a piece of me with her. Even now, the memory evokes such excruciatingly strong emotions that I am so thankful my mom was there with me, separated by an extension of miles but not by heart-mind-and soul felt words of comfort that were sorely needed. I needed her so badly in those final moments and I will always be grateful for the strength and compassion she smothered me in that night.

I had my girlfriend’s cell phone in my pocket. I’d been managing her calls over the past few days. It was one of rare moments leading up to that point that she did not have her cell phone in hand, managing life’s more or less important events; utilizing the mini computer her smart phone had began doubling as. Starting about two days prior she had less of a need for it. I’d spent that day answering text messages from her friends, letting them know what was happening, which was all too fast! I wrongly estimated that she had about 1-2 weeks remaining and promised to call them to schedule a time to visit as time permitted.

I fished her phone out of my pocket  and called her eldest son. I was overcome; sobbing uncontrollably when he answered. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to wonder at the time whether he’d mistake me for his mom. He was just at the house the night before taking care of her as I prepared for bed. I had just one more day of work remaining before taking my leave of absence so I could care for her full-time. I’d devised a rotating schedule a few days prior to ensure that she’d always be cared for by her closest family and most trusted friends.

“John, where are you?” I sobbed into the phone. “Do you need me to come over?” He quickly replied, making no acknowledgement of whether he knew it was her or I. It didn’t matter. “I’m on my way!” The phone went silent. I knew he’d be shocked at the sight of his mom laying in the hospital bed propped up in the dining room where she spent her final resting moments. She was already becoming cool to the touch. I was devastated and didn’t know what to do or where to turn. I felt her face and kissed her cheek and ached all over. I needed to be alone as there were people all around. They’d been helping me tend to her needs all day as friends and family filed in and out leading up to the moment she passed. Her sister was there; showing such incredible strength in those moments where I felt weak, powerless and feeling entirely insignificant – as if a part of my own essence was being taken from me along with my girlfriend. I was thinking in my heart, “Please don’t leave me baby” but I knew that it was all over. She was gone.

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2. Love Letters
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Original article: Living in the Moment

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.

The days following her death I tried unsuccessfully to shut off my emotions. I was completely drained, exhausted, and riddled with loss and regret. My heart physically ached. The fact is, there is no real outlet for loss of such a magnitude no matter how many times it’s happened to countless others before me, dealing with similar pangs my family was now faced with. Sudden loss. Although tears are temporary, the heart aches in ways you simply can’t imagine unless you’ve experienced it. Every waking thought resonates with it an emptiness, loneliness and hollow despair, at least at the onset. I found that I was incapable of properly expressing my crushing pain in any viable form. I am now hopeful that the emotional toil manifesting itself physically will eventually get better, but that night I was inconsolable. The day after, I was numb. The day after that, the shock and finality of it all set in and I needed to be left alone.

A week passed and everywhere I looked – Life Was Going On – and I was fortunate enough to see through my own personal darkness that people were still laughing, joking, spending time with their loved ones, updating their lives via social networking, etc, and on and on… but for the excruciating pain I was experiencing – my life, as I knew it, ended that night.

Something new began.

My life with my girlfriend culminated in my constantly changing view of the world. Her death brought everything to the surface. In less generic terms, she had a true blue passion for living honestly and being happy with the opportunity to experience whatever it threw at her, and that mindset has become a huge source of motivation for me at this junction. Even now it is the one thing, besides her smile and strength, that cancer could never take away from her. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t smile, and that incredible will of hers persisted until the very end. She loved life and lived it to the fullest, doing things that some people would never imagine; like picking up and moving half way around the country to unfamiliar surroundings to be with her love. With that, she lived as long as her incredible spirit would allow. Not nearly long enough.

When she was gone I tried to convince myself that she was finally cured of cancer and pain, but another voice was also telling me it wasn’t just the cancer and pain that was gone forever…

Pride and Strength

I have always been the one counted on to be strong for others. But now I find myself relying on others and accepting the strength of many. It is totally out of my character, and although I’m treading in unfamiliar territory, death brings it’s own special brand of humility, honesty and courage for all parties involved. I send my love and deep appreciation to everyone who has reached out to me. The role reversal has been eye opening.

I am bendable and I can break and despite a lifetime of carving my emotions out of stone to suit outward appearances, they have managed to take shape in their most natural form. In the process, opening the flood gates, so to speak, to the most vulnerable parts of my being. It is all I can do to get by some days and I think it’s entirely healthy to allow yourself to be vulnerable. I’m in the midst of a major forced life change so while some choices may seem limited, others are completely within range for me and everyone that loved my girlfriend to reach for the sky and allow the universe to work its magic in our lives.  Pride has no place getting in the way of the range of feelings experienced daily. There is no attempting to prevent raw emotions from breaking through a previously unlikely surface. I am wide open.

I remind myself that crying every day is completely natural with such compounding loss and has nothing to do with being strong or weak. It has everything to do with being a spiritual, deeply sensitive human being.

Related posts:

1. A Solitary Excursion
2. There Are Warriors Of All Kinds
3. The Longest Day

Original article: One Day at a Time

©2013 StudwithSwag.com. All Rights Reserved.