Just a Taste.

Yeah, you know what I mean. It’s that sticky situation you get yourself into when you think you’re strong enough to take a little and leave the rest alone. We’ve all been there once or twice, maybe even three times. I’ve been in this situation too many times to count, and I’m not proud of it, but I can’t say I regret it either.

Why do I get tangled into this crazily weaved web time and time again? I’ll tell you why; it’s because I remember all-too-well the times I walked away from a good thing and slapped myself for it later. I guess I figured, “why not slap yourself for consequences now rather then for the not knowing later?” It’s a flawed philosophy, I know, but I can’t really say I missed out on much anymore.

This evil temptation seems to be a two-way door; you can even tempt others, rather then being the tempted. Sly little invitations like “just one time” or “just a little bit” can seem so innocent when you know the deed is wrong already, but somehow the implication of a brief encounter or small morsel of tribute can seduce even the most righteous individual; and in that “little bit” or that “just once” can span an extended encounter of grief and guilt sure to follow.

Oh, but it is the tempter who already understood this from the beginning. They savor the entire “dessert” when requesting only the cherry on top. In principle, they become “the beggar who only wanted a nickel who in the end received a fortune”. The person who let their guard down pretty much knew what was going to happen; they secretly just hoped they could escape the consequences that came afterward. However, there are those strange instances where there is no guilt, and both the tempter and the tempted are both left grinning.

It is these rare occasion that I dwell in, not because they are few, but because they are invigorating. It’s the idea of two individuals doing a very wrong and immoral thing, enjoying it, getting away with it and not feeling guilty about it. My oh my, things can really get messy when a taste-test becomes a binge, and it’s even better when it tastes so good you suck your fingers and lick the plate.

But, when it makes your mouth water… to the point you want to share what you taste with the other person, as if they couldn’t possibly understand any other way, that’s the point of no return. Expect life to throw a lot of sour lemons at you for a very long time. I guess you make lemonade after that, right? Good luck! [Laughing]  -streetPoet007

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Reading Glasses

I remember when I was an angry and confused little boy; women didn’t make sense to me. They would say one thing and do something else, claim they wanted “this” and later end up with “that”. Talk bad about guys like dogs, and then go and date a dog; all kinda strange woman stuff I just didn’t get. I was irritated because I wanted to be a close part of their world, but I just couldn’t speak their language.

One day, while I was feeling especially sorry for myself, I ran across a revelation like no other I had ever experienced. I realized I had cracked the code to lady-lingo. I had to sit still for a while to make sure I wasn’t fooling myself, or that I hadn’t lost my mind. The obvious thing to do was test my theory, see if I really knew what kind of power I had. I went out for my first field test, and I failed pretty badly.

I wasn’t sad I had failed, I was actually quite happy. You see, I had failed for reasons much different then I had in the past. The key I managed to take with me on that journey was the unlocked door of progression. My ability to speak the language had improved. Failure after failure I began to quickly understand why I was so confused when it came to the fairer sex. The problem wasn’t that “girls are weird”, the problem was that I wasn’t “listening”.

The problem areas I noticed in my approach began with “me”. It was me who had to change; hoping women would change or even expecting it was not only impossibly impractical but ridiculous. I got so very good at listening, that I was sometimes able to finish a ladies thought before she spoke them. When little things like this impressed them, I started to ponder over other little extra tidbits I could add to my new-found talent, and that’s when I began to embellish everything I did.

You can see with you ears, feel with your mind, touch with your voice and listen with your heart. This makes perfect sense to a rare few, but it is a true spiritual science that is instinctive in most all women. I couldn’t truly understand this philosophy until I became a man of sincerity, which I found through the power of a wineglass. I drank and drank until there where no lies in me; only then could I tell a past love how I really felt for her, how I saw the world, how I thought the world saw me.

I remembered that day well; every sound, every smell and visual observation. Looking through that wineglass, could see the world for what it really was. The secret was not that the world was hidden away from me; I just wasn’t reading the signs that where right in front of my face. Those once strange implications that these lovely ladies gave off where now neon billboards to me; now when she tells me “no” and the stamp on her forehead says “oh god yes”, I know which order to obey.

The trick is to keep the “eyes” but put down the glass, but that’s just the beginning. Let’s toast to enlightenment!

-streetPoet007
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It's on Record (Part II)

It’s always the same, first you hide your face and giggle like a little school-girl, and then you throw things at me telling me to “turn it off”. After that, you try to pretend like its not even there, and then I play right along. Suddenly you fall in love with the lens and then you can’t stop staring into it. If the timing is right, you do amazing things for the lens that you’d normally never do without it. What is this phenomenon?

I swear I don’t understand you at all. You’re the most complicated creation on earth, you know that? I really had to learn the hard way that “no” really does mean “yes” sometimes. Trying to figure out when those times are ain’t easy at all. I admit, I kind of feel guilty from time to time ignoring a blatant “no”, but shouldn’t it have turned out bad with a rejection? You played right along anyway, so I guess you meant yes?

I pray the day never comes when you say no and really mean it, if that day comes; I might never recovery from the guilt. I just want to have a good time, and I want you to be a part of it. I hate having to drag you to places all the time, you seem to enjoy yourself once you get there, so what’s the problem? Are you determined to be a boring person? Is your phunometer broken? Why is it you can’t simply be where you say you’ll be? Should I even bother calling you when I wonder where you are, it’s not like you’ll answer.

I have to be honest with you; this is getting quite bothersome my dear. Having to force you into having a good time is becoming very old. It’s only when I watch you on film am I convinced you are more fun then I give you credit for, but these moments are few. I smile when you smile at me, but I have to realize you are smiling at the camera, no me. It’s not so special anymore. It was you I cared about a long time ago, I really did, but you didn’t like to come out and play with me as much as I did you.

So now, all I care about is the girl on film. She is everything I wanted, everything I hoped you would be, but you and she are not the same. Beyonce understands; she even made a song about it. I’ve never been a fan of Beyonce until that very day, but I admit I loved her as “Foxy Cleopatra” in Gold Member. What am I saying? She knows, as much as I don’t truly care for her music, I do appreciate that she truly understands “me”? It was always about you, but you made it about “you”. Still don’t get it huh?

Well, I guess I can never have you back. Maybe you’re gone forever, but at least I have it on record.

-streetpoet007

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Palace of Jade

I always admired a place that had that welcoming feeling; you know, never having to say, “Sorry about the mess” or “I didn’t have time to clean”. I guess I can say I just like tidy people, even though I am not one of them myself. To be honest, I am kind of borderline in a way, when I get tired of seeing a mess and it looks to be getting out of hand, I’ll clean it up. I don’t just clean by picking up the mess though, I get down and dirty, white-glove and everything. What’s the point of all this you ask? Allow me to explain…

You see, not to long ago I had met this young lady at the Alexandria Recreation Center while on business. Though she was awkward, and kind of off-beat, she was super-cute and I wanted to get to know her. She kind of reminded me of how I was in middle school into my freshman high school year; because of that, I knew all the right buttons to push to get her yapping. It was amazing to see all the little sign and signals she gave off, just like I would have when I was younger. I couldn’t play with her for too long though, as business called, and he being like me around my younger years, there was no way to close the deal… or so I thought.

I admit, she was a LOT smarter then “younger me” and found an excuse to give me her contact info by making it about business. “Well thank you darling for taking all the awkwardness out of that part of the game miss-lady” I thought. With a big smile I accept and be sure to bid her farewell before making a sexy exit. With a few games of hit and miss, I finally make contact. She was good though, I have to give her credit, having a party and inviting me to it as yet another excuse to give me her address. I had to think for a moment… “Why wasn’t I this smart at my younger age”, but then again, just because she reminded me of my younger self, doesn’t mean she was as naïve.

I was beginning to like this girl and I hardly knew her. Now keep in mind, I am annoyed by neat-freaks just as much as the next “messy person”, but I had to admire the idea that she cared enough about her things to preserve them in a manner to where they almost looked new, even if she has had them for years. From that moment I decided I wanted to be more like her, and ever since I have been working on becoming more meticulous when it comes to stuff that belongs to me. I assume she could see I was trying hard to respect her “life-style”, and she was humorously smitten enough to grab me by the cheeks and lay a playful lip-smack on me.

Everything just seemed to flow, and her awkward persona and off-beat energy just seemed to match my own. It was like I’ve known her forever. Everything about her was clean and neat; her house, her personality, her swagger, among other things, just squeaky-clean. I guess I can legitimately say that mamii was fresh-to-death, and in the process her once pretty jade eyes reminded me more of “mint freshness” then “clover leaves”. I wish I could have stayed around longer, but I try not to mess around with women who are engaged, sorry, gotta bounce!

-Shaum

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The mating game.

I know she wonders about me often, but there was a time she never gave me a second thought. She did like me, but probably not like that. Things have changed over the past few weeks, words have been said, timing was on my side, circumstances presented themselves as opportunity, and things happened. Maybe it was fate; maybe it was a dice roll, who can say really? The important thing now is to let things flow in the direction best for her and me, I won’t leave it to chance anymore.

It was around a good time when I was busy making things happen for myself (and my circle of associates), when she so happened to fall into my life again. When I say she, I don’t mean “her” specifically, you see, she changes clothes like the weather changes conditions. Of course she was looking her best that day, but then again, so was I. Even though I’m not one for competitions, “let the games begin”. I don’t like to play, but I do like to win, and she forces my hand every time.

“I just want to get along with you” I say over and over, but it’s never that simple, until I show her yet again I cannot be beaten. “The reason I beat you is because I know all your weaknesses” I tell her. When I go to kiss her after watching her eyes quiver, she turns her head away from me. I haven’t forgotten anything about you, didn’t you know that I love your neck and collarbone just as much as your lips? I guess you didn’t remember I found that your birthmark on your shoulder was tender to the touch?

I enjoy each and every part of you to an equal degree, and that is why you look at me that way. The guy who was your second or third choice is looking ever-more-appealing right now, but it was never me to begin with, it was you, it was always you. When I pull the strap off your shoulder, the rubbing of fabric over your skin is like nothing you have felt before. This is the brief moment you get to look into the mirror and see the parts of you that go overlooked. This is why I make you tremble; you are feeling your own radiance.

Now when I tell you how delicious you look in black, you believe me, and not only do you become a better woman, it makes you high. I know you will run off and try to find this stimulating sensation from an easier target, but you won’t find it anywhere else. The reason you won’t find it has nothing to do with me being one-of-a-kind, no, not at all. You won’t find it anywhere else, because the desire lies with-in. I know you’re afraid of me now, but let me into you once more, and I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

…And believe when I say, it gets pretty deep…

-Shaum
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You betta’ shop around!

Now that I’ve began doing my daily workouts, I need to start eating better foods. I’ve always had low body fat, but I need even less if I want my muscles to show and my skin to tighten up. I finally found a person to model after, mostly because there are a certain type of abs I want. I know having a six-pack will be nice, but I’m more interested in having eagle-wings and a slightly define abdomen. I think it will make me more unique, and I think it will be sexier. However, just like my tattoos, I’ll seldom show them off, so only girls who are close to me will get to see them… unless of course I decide to go swimming next summer.

In all my transition, I kinda felt like I was out of place, either I was doing too much and getting the wrong kind of attention, or not doing enough and getting missed and passed over. I found my nice little sweet-spot where I get only the attention I want, and avoid all the attention I don’t need. I usually can never find such balance in things I have no real experience in, but I guess the answer to the question I was searching for is… take your time, and build yourself up like you would anything else. First you lay the bricks, then you lay the bonding, and then you repeat the process, a building doesn’t create itself, nor is it put up in one day, it takes time and work.

In the same breath I had to shake off some dead-weight. Really I had to separate the types of women I was dealing with in three groups. They where the kind that kept me around because it was easy, who really probably had no plan on being with me in the first place. Then there where the ones who I talk to every now and again, who are in relationships and keep me around as a back-up incase $#!t goes bad for them. Then lastly, the few who had the potential to be good partners, genuinely liked me, or who fell into the cracks because I was too distracted with girls I shouldn't have been dealing with. It was tempting to just pull the plug on those who I made my mind up about and just do a large dumping, but that’s not how it works, and I’m glad I didn’t.

What I found out from the experience, is that a lot of the women I was accusing of being cold and flaky where only acting that way because I was acting that way. They thought that it would get my attention, because they didn’t know how else to do it. Then there where some who where just flaky to begin with; I had to except that, had I just did $#!t arbitrarily because I was feelin’ ma’self at the time, I would have made a lot of bad choices in one sitting. This is when I realized that even though perception might seem like reality, it sometimes is just what you WANT to see, and it’s not what REALLY is. I’m sure I might have let go a few people who might not have had it coming to them, but I am certain there wheren't many, as I was as careful as I could humanly be with my choices.

It was usually the things that where cheap, easy and taste good that where the things for me, sort of like the things I used to eat. Now that I’m trying to improve myself, I have to find things that might be more expensive, and might even take more effort to cook and prepare, but taste just as good, or better. The most important thing though, is that it’s just all together better for me. So now I can truly say that I pick ma’ friends like I pick ma’ fruit… cuz I actually do that now. All this is running through my mind as I finish filling up my shopping cart; I guess it’s moments like these that you get to do the most soul searching, and boy am I ever glad moments like these exist.

-Shaum

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Tough love.

That’s what it’s all about these days. When you’re a good dude like me, everybody want to toss their luggage at you, tryin’ to get you to carry their $#!t, and just as soon as you call em’ on it, they got everything in the world to say but how they are REALLY feelin’, and admitting what they did. It doesn’t just apply to relationships with friends and family either, it’s especially a problem in mutual relationships. Sometimes you just have to remind the other person “you don’t have to be there”, and even thought I don’t like threatening other people, sometimes you just gotta do it.

It seems to be weird for me that way; everything seems to apply to everything else when I finally get “it”. I mean, it’s even like that when the lights go out, or you’re tryin’ to get-it-in till the early morn’; sometimes you just gotta get a little rough to get the results you want. There was a time when I really didn’t want to hurt other people when I was in a fight, but it cost me my self-esteem and permanent scars when I was more concerned for the other person then my own self, but when I realized that my well being was what mattered most, forcing a person to say uncle, and nearly snapping their bone in two wasn’t so hard anymore. I didn’t like it, but it had to be done.

So I admit, there was a time when I thought that purposely making a lover scream your name, or provoking her to tell you “who’s pu**y it is” (when it’s obviously hers); and other such derogatory mannerisms, where just too abrasive, selfish, and just down right “not nice”. The new me/myself/I realizes that sometimes, it simply must be done. Maybe it makes me seem like some territorial dog, or maybe even an egotistical @$$, but at the end of the day, it gets $#!t done; and you simply cannot argue with results. Who would have known that sometimes, a person actually likes having their spirit broken, their walls busted in, or even their power taken away. I guess they need that.

It never really ‘has’ ever applied to me, I am, and will always probably be a gentle creature by nature. However, the more I begin to search for the things that make me happy, the more I find that I have to be a tougher person, a territorial hound, a keen snake and other shady characters that I don’t enjoy taking the role of. I must admit though, at times, on those odd days, it actually becomes quite a fun venture; simply becoming (for a short moment) an entirely different person. I guess it’s almost like a mask in some ways; me never really being fond of them, I guess I am beginning to see the enjoyment.

So if I torture this woman with pleasurable antics, rather then love her slowly as my conscious self would, she will love me much harder, and even leak this admiration into a form of respect? The dynamics of human behavior never cease to amaze me; I’m almost convinced I’m not of this world. The more I delve into the depths of this unique place, the more lost I become in its tangled web. In the meantime, I can only but enjoy the idea that she now wants me more then other things, and the idea that she is practically begging for me at times make me feel like some kind of god.

I know at the root of it all, it’s just an illusion, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying every minute of it. Is this what they mean by “payin’ the cost to be the boss?”

-Shaum

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She’s got skillz!

Ever since I started doin’ book work, I don’t exercise like I used to. Ma’ goal was to get cut-up for da’ summer; ‘cause dem college gals was always askin’ me to go swimmin’ with em’. I just didn’t feel right about it bein’ outta shape and all. I was just thinkin’ about how much fun it would be to have the girlies at the pool ooglin’ ove ma’ body. I gotta say though, it all came back to me when I started hangin’ out with this one athletic chica who could run faster then me, for longer then me, and probably do anything else better them me.

I was kinda embarrassed that I was bein’ outdone by a girl, but it was a good lesson in humility. She motivated me to go to the gym with her and her friend every-so-often, and it was fun for a while, until the fatigue started to set in from all the long hours from work. I had to start takin’ vitamins and $#!t like that to keep ma’ energy level up, or I was gonna crash. This chic did everything, from stair-steppin’, to treadmill drills, to yoga (which I liked watchin’ er’ do); she was a machine. The best part of the week was when I started to actually be able to keep up with her, and she notices with a nice grin.

I was starting to like how ma’ arms looked, and I started to show off ma’ tats more. It’s funny how I never noticed that the gym was a pick-up spot until I started takin’ ma’ shirt off. It got even funnier when I started to realize that the work-outs me and ma’ friend where doing was a sort of bonding experience. To be honest, I thought it was just innocent fun; really, I’m not jokin’. I met some nice young ladies there; all of them where probably stronger then my newbie @$$.

As summer time came closer, the girls started tak’n off more clothes and I was close to the build I wanted, things got a bit more interesting with me and ma’ new buddy. I don’t know when it is a girl becomes comfortable with doing questionable stretchin’ while your lookin’ dead at ‘er, but gawd bless those types. Seriously, the type of ways she could bend her body was just… WOW. There where times I wanted to stop what I was doing and just tamper with the routine, but in all my strength I didn’t.

I have to admit, the more time I spent around this girl, the more attracted to her I became. It had gone beyond the “yeah, she looks good” phase, this was different. I wasn’t ever gonna ask her on a date or anything; I guess I had just gotten too intimidated by our supposed friend barrier. I was comfortable with that idea, even though I still wondered what she would say if I had ever asked. It was just an odd day that she just stopped workin’ out and told me she was going to her room; with a discouraged voice I said “alright then”, that was until she asked if I wanted to come with er’.

God bless ‘er soul.

-Shaum

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Girls who like girls.

I was always curious as to how this worked, do girls look at other girls like I do, or do they look at em’ differently. I mean, if a sexy lady with a nice @$$ walks past, do they look at her like I would look at er’, or is it somethin’ else to this. I just had to know, and when the opportunity came up to give a lesbian lady the 3^rd degree, I didn’t pull any punches. Now keep in mind, ladies tend to speak in code, it’s like they can’t just say what they really want to say unless they’re tipsy, so I had that part taken care of.

So I start to ask her a list of question off the top, makin’ sure to sit next to er’ in a nice and comfy barstool setting, a few drink in er’, and some serious game. I know she didn’t like guys the same way she would moisten up to a fine lady, but I know every woman has a mode, so I had to bring er’ there to get answers. Most of it was layers of bulls**t about emotional attachment and metal sex, blah blah blah, but as she got more liquor in her veins, the truth game out hard.

I couldn’t believe half the things she was telling me, I mean, I know the types of things I would love to do to a sexy dime piece, but I wasn’t nearly on the level she was wit’ it. I had to take mental notes because I was convinced that the s**t she was on would definitely turn a b**ch out. I was always under this impression that dudes where nastier then girls where when it came to “gettin’ it in”, but holy f**k was I wrong. I mean, she really started feelin’ er’self… like literally.

Really, I gotta admit that she kinda drew me in with the detail she was droppin’, and the drinks seem to make her forget I wasn’t her type, if you know what I mean. I was too close to throwing morality out tha’ window, but ma’ boy snapped me back into reality and reminded me that her girl was just in the next room. I didn’t want to break up a perfectly good relationship just cuz I got caught up, but I can’t say I don’t regret it either; at the same time, I kinda feel like I cheated ma’self out. I don’t know.

What I do know, is that girls that like other girls can get down and dirty on a level I never thought possible. I even found out that they have their own sexy s**t, like porn collections of girls makin’ it clap. I was like, WTF? You always find something good when you peel back that fake layer girls like to floss in da’ public eye; but when you pull dat’ curtain back, you better be ready for what comes at you. Dem types of girls go hard as s**t, and it’s no wonder I like em’ so damn much.

Too bad it can’t ever be more then just a fling, and I’m so serious right now.

-Shaum

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Cookin’ witcha’ boy.

There was a lot that needed to be done that day, I was on a roll, shakin’ this, bakin’ dat; it was like clockwork. There’s no tellin’ what I might do when I’m in the kitchen, but I hookz it up er’y once in a while, just ask around. On one occasion I was told how good my cooking smells by a cute young thing, a bit taller then me by a couple inches; supreme in stature. I particularly liked her because she was straight forward, honest, and an all-around good girl. I promised er’ I’d let her share the kitchen with me one day, and I did.

Most people might not know this, but cookin’ is a very sensuous act of recreation, if not done properly in both initiation and completion, some things just might seem a little off. You see, me, I put love in ma’ cookin; I take ma’ time, let things marinate, season ever so lightly and allow the food to take a life of its own. The smell that comes from what I’m cookin’ is created by the constant state of one ingredient try’n ta absorb the other, even ‘hough they’re two different things.

That day, the smell was like an aphrodisiac, I could see er’ sweatin from the heat of the stovetop, and rollin’ er’ neck around like she was feelin dizzy. I swear every time she did that, I wanted to just go over to her and rub ma finger over it. I wanted to ask her the universal question “er’thing alright?”, but I was feeling the effects too, and when I rolled ma neck around, I saw er’ look at me in a way that made the kitchen seem warmer then it already was. She bit down on her lip and tuned away from me to grab the colander.

I couldn’t help myself, I felt ma’ body glide’n over to where she was at, and I just scooped her up in ma arms; I could feel her fall into me like she belonged der’. When she showed her neck to me again, I just had to bite it, so I did, but just a little. It was like she was makin’ a special sauce of ‘er own, I could taste it off ‘er throat; it was mild but yummy; a flavor I had never come across before. I could feel er’ tremble with starvation for something more heavy on her stomach and when she push’d her backside into me, I pretty much knew what it was.

Have you ever tried to entertain a lady an’ stir marinara sauce at the same time? If you haven’t, you should.

-Shaum

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Instant girlfriend-101?

Anyone who knows me has the general idea of what I’ve been up to. I was kinda lookin’ to meet a nice girl, but at the same time I wasn’t sure if I could. Meeting nice girls is tough these days, or maybe it’s just me, I don’t know. Today was kind of a weird day for me mostly because all the stuff I had planned on doing got canceled, and I wound up doin’ hella shoppin’ when I only went out to get some new kickz.

So it goes like this, I’m out and about to do some buyin’ and like clockwork, the first store I walk in has exactly what I’m lookin’ for. I mean, I did want some shell-top ADIDAS and all, but the Polo’s will do just fine, plus they match the pants I bought them for better anyway. I was goin’ to the next store to see if they had the strings I wanted to switch out with, and two girls sittin’ on a bench outside the store where eyein’ me down.

I was gonna walk around the bricks to avoid em’ and just sneak into the shop, but they busted me tryin’ to get away and called me out. I was kinda like “damn, I’m not phresh enough to be talkin’ to no girls right now”. So I smiled to them and just gave a “wuz up” nod and they started laughin’ at me. So now I’m like, “Oh, these chics iz trippin’. Oh ok.” and walked into the store mindin’ ma own business.

Come to find out these chics followed me inside the store, and start watchin’ me and $#!t, I was talkin’ to one of my homeboys I used to work with a while back who worked there now, and they just kinda faded into the background after that. I started laughin’ it off and ask’d ma boy if they had the shoes I was lookin’ for and so on, so he suggested the Polo’s. So I walk out the shop, and bam, there those two devilish chics where, waitin.

So one of them is yammerin’ on the phone and the other is just lookin’ at me like I had somethin’ stabbed in ma forehead; I started speakin’ to ‘em and apparently the girl talkin’ on the phone wanted to holla at me, and her girlfriend was doin’ all the talkin’, so I was confused, and just went along with it. So when I start talkin’ to the one girl on the phone, it was weird, cuz she was tryin’ to talk to 2 people at once, and she just seemed too flaky to me.

So while I’m trying to talk my way into finding an escape route, the other girl blindsides me with a kiss to the side of ma mouth, I guess she missed, and she got super-close to me. So I put my hands on her hips to move her out the way to see the other girl, but she kept blockin’ ma view and kissed me again (the right way this time) and again until I got caught up and kissed her back. I was peekin’ out ma eyes to see what the other girl was doin’. But I guess the kissy one knew and locked her arms ‘round ma neck like a bear trap.

I guess I have a new girlfriend now? I don’t know. All I have is a phone number written on ma hand like I’m back in middle school again or somthin’. I really don’t know what to think, because that was like the weirdest $#!t that has ever happened to me this year. Something is telling me that I should have enjoyed that experience, but I’m still tryin’ to digest what just happened to me. Maybe once I sleep on it things will make sense later.

I’m not sure what the hell it is I’m doin’ all of a sudden, but damn, it must be right… I think?

-Shaum

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Yeah, she’s really, really high.

It‘s like I want to take credit for something that had everything to do with luck and nothing to do with me. I can’t deny that I’ve been on ma’ P’s & Q’s as of late, and ma attention to detail is a lot better then it used to be. Only thing is, I do less thinkin’ then I used to, and more… well doin’. Maybe it’s a good thing, or maybe it’s bad, or maybe it’s a bad thing that only “looks” good for now. I can’t tell anymore, well, I never could tell before either, but now I’m in the mix, so finding this $#!t out soon would be nice.

Everything is a theme now; I even put an old toothbrush to ma kickz and that ain’t like me at all. Could it be I’m doin the whole peacock feather number or am I just luckin’ out suddenly? Maybe I should stop askin’ questions all together and just accept it for what it is, but that’s not like me either. I’m not the same guy anymore… I mean this for real. I don’t even know who I am anymore, but at the same time I’m not really scared by it like I should be. Actually, to be honest, it’s kinda fun bein’ well… me I guess.

So I guess this means if I’m Ziploc fresh, everything else is airtight? How can it be this easy though, it’s never been this easy? It’s tempting to see how far you can go when tha’ platter is just laid out in front of ya and you didn’t even raise a finger to ask for it, but hell… I can’t say I don’t like the gesture. I remember when touching all the right places was the way to get it done, but now just touchin’ on me gets it done? This doesn’t make sense to me anymore. Girls are weird, life is weird, everything is weird.

So you mean to tell me, that all the effort I ever put into the chase was just a waste of time? All I had to do was put a tiny bit of effort into throwin’ up Oh’s and the X’s all fall into place. I feel cheated as $#!t, and you wanna know somethin’ else, even though I’m glad I found a solid cornerstone, I don’t like how it looks. I almost want to rebel at the simplicity of the matter I once thought very complex. Life, “yeah, I’m talkin to you. You suck.” I gotta laugh though, cuz this $#!t is funny to me too.

Is it me? Am I really startin’ to peel this game apart or is life playin games? I get tired of askin’ a question with no answer to it; maybe I should stop asking. I guess it helps knowing that life is high as $#!t the entire time she is pointing and laughing at you, I mean really, REALLY high; but I’m finally starting to realize what my mistake was I actually took her seriously.

-streetPoet007

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Victoria’s Secret.

When I found out what it was, it hit me like a Mac Truck, better yet, it hit me like a punch from Kimbo Slice. I mean damn, “Is it like that?” I thought. You see, there was a time when I thought things in life where pretty simple, either you where doin’ your thing or you weren’t; it was supposed to be that easy. Come to find out there where more levels to it. You could also be doin’ your thing or doin’ it big as well. Since I wasn’t even doin’ my thing, how would I know doing it “big” ever existed?

As a 'decided' master of destiny, I made a choice to start doing ma’ thing; even though it took me a while to catch on to how the game was played, I did rather well for a guy with no role models to teach me. All the things I ever learned where from my momz and the company of women, so the advice I got was pretty useless. There was no real-world environment where the techniques they showed me would work, and I only ended up losing out on good things.

So what am I talkin’ bout? I’m speakin’ on premium grade, I’m discussin’ diamond status, I’m talkin’ jewelry report, and I’m professing the highlife to all who are listenin’. I’m talkin’ bout Victoria’s Secret. Now mind you, this was new to me, and I’m sure there are many of you reading this who already knew the secret and have already moved on to the next thing, but me, no no no, I wanted to stick around for a while and enjoy the splendor it had to offer.

In the world of vanity, everything tastes so damn good; unfortunately it all has a price, and boy is that price f**kin’ high. It’ll cost you an arm, a leg, and a kidney. Can’t speak for no one else but myself, but I must say I have had a taste from time to time for no money down. I mean, I’m not the most elaborate creation God made, but I sure can max-out every-so-often. Damn can I ever play the cards I was dealt when it counts, and sometimes the suit I was stitched in looks impressive to even myself.

I think my expectations have taken a turn for the worse when I was introduce to grade-A honey pots, but don’t think I’m not working on myself with introspective endeavors. It’s just that when you taste ambrosia, apples and oranges seem so-so. I guess I really do have to adjust my goggles and see things for what they are, but I have put forth effort in vain; could just be something I’m doing wrong though. You just never know with things like this, life gets confusing on this level.

So the moment of truth comes when I have to decided if I want to Blackmail Lady V. and play the game to win, or do I retain my integrity and keep strikin’ out hopin’ to hit a homerun like I’ve been doing. It’s tempting to just take the cake, eat it, and then have ice cream afterward, but I don’t know if I could look in the mirror after I did such a thing; skipping steps is what hurt me the most, I went from not doin’ a damn thing, to doin’ it big, from crawling to f**kin’ flyin’.

It’s not like Victoria made it easy for me, she was actually quite mean at times. I’ve never been the type to hold a grudge though, so I guess I’ll just wait on it for a bit; my patience is wearing thin though.

-Shaum

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I'm in love with a stripper.

No not really, but I must say that these kinds of girls seem to gravitate toward me. I don’t get it; all I ever wanted was a nice classy girl who is as crazy about me as I am about her. All I seem to run into are heartless, shameless women who only want one thing. It’s so common now that I don’t even bother trying to hook up with a classy girl anymore; it always turns out the same way. I mean, I have good conversational skills, I compliment in the best ways, and I’m a good listener. Where the hell did I go wrong?

I really miss middle school and high school, those where some of my most bittersweet years. I admit, school did suck, a lot, but the girls where pretty awesome at that time. I always ended up hooking up with a girl from a different school then me, but it was still a great time for me. Unfortunately I never had the best luck, so something horrible would always happen before I could enjoy the rewards of a good relationship, but the fact that the girls where so much more aggressive back then was great. I mean, I really hate feeling as if I’m making some random girl miserable by trying to get to know her when she just wants to be left alone, but I mean, it’s not like she’d come to me yourself right?

I guess I’m just not selfish enough to be with a classy woman, and maybe I want certain ingredients to mix that just won’t in real life. Strippers are aggressive, they move in ways that make me snake hiss, and they just know what to say, when to say it and how to say it. They tend to be the most gorgeous creatures alive, but their hearts are practically made of stone. You can forget about getting them to open up their hearts to you; that shit just won’t happen.

I can’t really say I’ve been hurt by a stripper girl, but I do tend to get attached and have to remind myself that there is nothing there but a good time for as long as it lasts. I want more then that, and these sexy divas from exotic dancers to runway models are just too coarse. Does this mean that all the girls who have the smallest ounce of interest in me are only the ones who are beyond loving? Do I only attract the heartless harpies of the earth or what?

I just want to feel free to be crazy about a girl and know it’s not a feeling that is misplaced. Any girl who might actually be wife material doesn’t seem to want to have the least amount to do with me. So what do I do? I can’t make someone love me. I guess as a Jersey boy, I take some getting used to, but I don’t want to be an acquired taste. This is bullshit, and my heart is just lying in my chest being unused. It would be cool to have a nice girl who is just crazy about me, and I can be crazy about her and have it grow to something amazing.

Until then, I’m just some guy who certain types of girls want to f**k and we go our separate ways, be someone’s cougar bait, or just be some poor girls rebound. “I want to be the guy”, is that too much to ask for? Until then it’s strippers, models and fast @$$ girls for me, until I somehow get better pheromones workin’ in my favor; such a sad existence for a guy who just wants to love someone, but simply isn't allowed to.

So I guess I’ll just have to settle for something more exotic, and not in a good way either.

-Shaum