A poem by Roderick Tobias Harris
MY HOMIES USE TO LAUGH AND CLOWN ME, BECAUSE I HAVE A THOROUGH ASS BBW DIME. THEY WOULD SAY THINGS LIKE,SHE HAS A PRETTY FACE……. IT DON’T MATTER TO ME NOT ONE BIT,THAT SHE DOESN’T HAVEA SMALL WAIST. YOU SEE,WHEN I LOOK AT HER,I DON’T SEE A SIZE….. WHEN I LOOK AT HER,ALL I SEE IS LOVE. WHEN WE ARE OUT IN PUBLIC,I PROUDLY HOLD HER HAND, AND JUST BECAUSE I CAN,I PLANT SOFT GENTLE KISSES ON HER LIPS. NOT ONLY IS SHE PRETTY IN THE FACE,I LOVE THE WAY SHE FEELS IN MY ARMS, AND BECAUSE SHE FEELS SO GOOD,I WANT TO MAKE LOVE TO HER……. EVEN WHEN I DON’T WANT TO MAKE LOVE TO HER…AND SO,I MAKE LOVE TO HER. MENTALLY,SPIRITUALLY, PHYSICALLY,EMOTIONALLY…I MAKE LOVE TO HER.
AS WE LAY UPON OUR BED,AND SHE OPENS HER MOUTH TO SLIDE HER TONGUE IN MINE, I ANXIOUSLY AWAIT IT’S ARRIVAL. AS OUR TONGUES EXPLORE EACH OTHERS BODIES, I ANTICIPATE MY TONGUE REACHING HER WOMANHOOD. FOR NOT ONLY DO I CRAVE HER TASTE,BUT I BATHE IN HER JUICES. AS MY HANDS GENTLY EXPLORE HER AMPLE BODY,NOTHING FEELS BETTER TO MY TOUCH. HER MOANS OF PLEASURE SOUNDS LIKE LYRICS TO A LOVE SONG, SHE WROTE JUST FOR ME.
HER LAUGHTER,HER HUMOR,HER SENSITIVITY,HER OUTLOOK ON LIFE, ALL TELLS ME THAT SHE IS BEAUTIFULLY HUMAN…………………. NO WE CAN’T FIT IN THE TUB TOGETHER, NO WE CAN SIT SIDE BY SIDE ON SOME PLAINS,TRAINS OR BUSES…. THAT’S OKAY…I’M NEVER TOO FAR AWAY.
WHEN I TELL HER I LOVE HER…SHE OFTEN ASK,DO YOU REALLY? YES BABY I DO…YOU’RE WORTH EVERY BIT OF MY LOVE, NOT BECAUSE I LOVE THE WAY WE MAKE LOVE. NOT BECAUSE YOU HAVE A PRETTY FACE. NO BECAUSE YOU’RE LIGHT ON YOUR FEET,NOT BECAUSE, MY HOMIES SAY, I SHOULDN’T…FOR WHILE THEY ARE STILL, YET LOOKING FOR THEIR PERFECT SIZE 8 I FOUND MY LOVE, IN ONE PHINE BBW DIME!!!!
Black Wall Street, the name fittingly given to one of the most affluent all-Black communities in America, was bombed from the air and burned to the ground by mobs of envious Whites. In a period spanning fewer than 12 hours, a once thriving Black business district in northern Tulsa lay smoldering – a model community destroyed and a major African-American economic movement resoundingly defused.
The night’s carnage left some 3,000 African Americans dead and over 600 successful businesses lost. Among these were 21 churches, 21 restaurants, 30 grocery stores and two movie theaters, plus a hospital, a bank, a post office, libraries, schools, law offices, a half dozen private airplanes and even a bus system. As could have been expected, the impetus behind it all was the infamous Ku Klux Klan, working in consort with ranking city officials and many other sympathizers.
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We always start off feisty, full of attitude, confident, strong, unyielding, independent, skeptical, suspecious, watchful, and nearly stotic…. until he slowly unveils the loving, tender, vulnerable woman within. He whispers in her ear, calls her baby, caress her body, place little butterfly kisses all over her neck and breast. He tell her she’s beautiful, she’s valuable, and makes her feel like she’s the only woman who’s arms he would rather be in. He make love to her, flirts with her, and reveals his tenderness to her deepest emotions. She is his. He is everyone’s. Two days later he wants to talk. He doesn’t want a relationship. He’s been hurt before. He doesn’t want to be serious. He wants to be friends. She is in love. He loves what she provides. He continues to meet other women even though this once emotionally hidden has bloomed open like a flower for him. He comes around. He spends time with her. Walks, shopping, dinner, movies, more sex, whispered conversations, caresses, kisses… Four days later… No call, no text, no kiss my ass. He’s busy. His “cousin” is texting him. He’s leaving the room to take some calls and others he takes in front of her. She mentions it. ”We are not together”, he says. She pulls away, hurt and angry at herself for opening up to man who she though was worth it, but now she loves him. He goes away again. Gets rejected, played, used, robbed, hurt, betrayed by some other woman. He comes back to her, damaged, just a few hours ago because he never stopped seeing other woman and becomes healed again with her love, concern, care, and compassion for him. He baths in the glow of confidence her love has restored in him and he is whole again. With himself now healed from her love he is now back on the market, just a few days later, meeting other women. Her intuitions kick in and he has become lax, making her aware that he is continuing to meet other women. She is hurt, she is angry, he wants her to calm down because they are not in a relationship. She tells him she does want to be in a relationship and she doesn’t want to be friends. She pulls away. He misses what she does, her support, her love, her compassion, but he can’t cancel that date with Kesha with the fat ass. Kesha with the fat ass needs $300 to buy a new outfit but she has to by Jr. new shoes first. He doesn’t have the money, because he is having trouble finding new employment after being laid off, so Kesha with the fat ass stops answering his calls. Two days later he sees Kesha with the fat ass in the local drug dealer’s car wearing a new outfit. He calls her and tells her he misses her. He’s lonely. He’s hungry. He’s cold. She tells him to come back.
Eventually she gets feed up. She is no longer compassionate, no longer in love, no longer emotional, vulnerable, nor forgiving. She has used her until she has nothing left to give. He has broken so many promises and told so many lies that she doesn’t believe anything he says. Her friends are telling her he is no good because of the many women they see him with around town. She wants him out of her life. He calls her a bitch because she no longer accepts him with open arms like she used to. He calls her selfish, because she no longer shares what she has because he has nothing. He calls her a whore because she slept with him. He tells her that is why he didn’t want to be with her. It’s over. Love hurts.
One sided love sucks! I did the hardest thing yesterday. I told someone I truly care about, someone I love that I could no longer be as intimately entwined as we had become. I allowed myself to become so entwined with this man that didn’t want a commitment with me as he benefited from the perks of being committed to by me. I broke all my own rules. When he was stressed, when he was hurt, upset, in pain, depressed, bored, hungry… I tried to make it right while he flirted with women who paid him in giggles and ass jiggles. I am loyal to a fault. Every man I get involved with I end up treating them like he is my husband before he even calls me his girlfriend, because I grew up around a bunch of married women catering to their husbands. No one told me how to date, who not to love, how to hold back, how to be coy, and hard to get. I know mind games but I don’t like to play. The most genuine thing about me are my emotions, my sensitivity, my vulnerability, my femininity that often gets me taken for granted, used, the favorite ex-girlfriend, the “wifey type” with no ring…. It seems like I scream to be heard until I act like a bitch; and everyone knows dogs love the bitches so they chase me down then. I go back to the soft spoken, easy-going me and suddenly there is nothing more to see here…
I have a smart mouth that I keep in check by being mildly sarcastic in everyday life. I make perfect first impressions, but dammit I am not “on” all the freakin time!
He’s beautiful, fun, immature, a bit of an asshole, a little selfish, good in bed, fun, energetic, playful, spontaneous, a little spoiled, smart, an unconfirmed nerd, a computer geek, dramatic, and moody… I love him.
But I had to let his azz go…
I like reading and learning new information like this because I don’t trust history books. Who says that every person with a lot of melanin came from Africa? The way I see it, dark-skinned people are from all over this world and they obviously traveled. Pyramids are not only in Egypt. They are found in other countries too, like Mexico. I have black friends who look Hispanic, white friends who look Asian, and Asian friends who look black. The number of ancestors double with every generation. For example 2 parents equal 4 grandparents, then 8 great grand parents, and so on and so on. Eight generations back, we have over a thousand grandparents. There is no race; only the human race. We have different cultures, values, religions, etc., but we should respect our differences and learn from each other. I get so sick of the lies and hate that is spread though evil people, media, history books, stereotypes…. The education system is a joke. They feed us these lies, we choke on them. They spit on us and tell us its raining. I pray to God for knowledge and wisdom. He never disappoints. I hate this master mentality and the slave mentality equally. As long as white people keep denying that our bad history in this country still affects all of us in a negative way we will continue to be at each other’s throats. As long as black people keep denying that our bad history and presence in this country has to be actively healed within ourselves and our communities we will never be the best we can be. We need each other to heal. Whites can’t expect blacks to heal unless they heal among themselves and the same with blacks. I think the problem is we blame each other, one just don’t have the whole world pointing back at them. One doesn’t have an entire history of prejudice and power to back the the pain they cause on the other. I understand it is hard. We have no trust. We believe what we are told. Someone told us we came from Africa. The same people told us Columbus “discovered” America. How can we be taught lies about whites and believe lies about blacks? The person who writes the history will always be the hero. ~Lean not to thy own understanding.~