No Mate or Soul Mate

work the place from withIn My Spirit,

fingering each scar with a new love note,

creating arias, that float throughout Us

& exist in unknown tongues….

Pluck My desires, with Your wing’s tip,

sending Your ancient vibrations,

as I sip Your Soul’s water,

trying not to gulp….

savoring the taste of satisfaction….

of each moment,

of the first sup of truth….

Fill My cup, til it overfloweth

of My endearment for You,

as we bathe in our affection,

immersed in midnight melodies,

reflecting of star-hearts longed seeking….

The Soul Mate’s breaths of life….

KingHusband- QueenWife

OneNess….

Blow me the kiss I can’t miss,

as I inhale Your exhalation….Your gifts

As You exhale Me, I inhale You,

and You swallow the core of My love,

which all others have missed and dismissed,

landing smack dab on the pucker of My lips,

still moistened of Your Soul’s Water,

quenching My thirst….

Wrap Me in the fold of Your sheet’s-work,

as an everlasting art….

one that conquers  & continues to grow,

entrusted & treasured with the best of Your Masterpieces,

of reciprocating love…..

…as I do Love….

from every row and space of love’s music staff,

from every stroke of the pencil,

which pours Our Souls, from withIn,

from the depths of The Sea of Lovers,

holding many unfound fractured hearts

of treasures that some seek,

yet float over, for gluttonies

of just reaping the benefits of Her treasure box,

trying to break the soul, by shattering the locks

of the scarred and lost loving Ones….

grasping and tearing, with veiled visions,

with no value of the beauty possessed….

….the prize of the found,

but seeing fortunes in cash and ass,

tearing open chest’s contents,

placing scars over keloids….

Mother Earth…..

SheGoddess of the Universe….

Allow not One to cross the path of My Soul

with any more negative intent,

conscious or non….

Else knowledge of Love’s core lies withIn,

Else they suffer Your Great Wrath,

I possess the strength and power to stand

I release It!

Creatress of Love….

Only Soul to Soul Vibrations can touch my Inner Being….

A Lover of Love,

Respecter of Souls…Of Her Being,

sending flutters from withIn

of Truth,

causing heart fluctuations without touching….

leaving space between the lines

only for the Real….

I’ll live life knowing My Soul,

with no mate,

before living it with anyone other ….

than The Soul’s Mate.

© 10/30/12 LeTisha.Woods

Black Queen.She

Cesspit

Full

Thoughts like pillow stuffing, pushed in my head,

reminders, notes, appointments I’m fed

Worries fit in wherever they can,

even, when there is nowhere… they are where they land

Fear of forgetting or lacking-  finances or time,

doubts of not giving enough of me, drowning Me out

Overwhelming this Determined Soul once & once again;

Hopes, dreams, wonders holding fast in my gut,

but can’t get out of this calamitous hole…

Rut.

from my gut….reflections of light seep through the darkening pit,

& each new burden, simultaneously fill My illuminations

…regurgitating this problem as it presents..

Life feeds me issues anew,

haven’t rid the sour taste prior, laying my palette

With no more tears,

I look over past years,

thinking all My choices were made, as best, as errors were corrected,

Yet I remain in society’s cesspit- a disposal of forgotten mess….

movements that are just acts of automated motions,

Only carefully thought, when involving my babies,

the reflections of hope, resembling light, remaining of My lone Self

Tired & Still,

I refuse to feel sorry for MySelf- for Me,

I know Who lies within the Depths unseen.

I “Must” continue on, in this surrounding, political shit!

Rousing & Inspiring My babies “To Be!”  “To Be!”

“To Be! Despite it all.  Fight from the beginning, Fight through it all….

Fight through the falls!  But “Be” Despite All Odds!!”

Angry, Aggravated, Pissed- Yes.

….at the Soul-Sucking Leeches,

exhausting the very survival of livelihood, of the working wo&man;

but Sorry for Me- No.

Never wanted to be rich,

Never have….

See-the rich are as miserable as broke- ones ain’t never had,

but the comfort of Contentment, Peace, Of Joy,

Of Smiles, of Yesses, and Sures,

 instead of no, not now, not this time, not this time,

not this time,

& maybe next time,

until, maybe they’ve forgotten- I hope…

but, in My heart remains the couldn’ts, Mama don’t have, didn’t haves,

Wish I could haves, wish I could…

No matter how much I work, no matter what I try to do….

I wanna say, “What’s the use?”…Work…this “life”

Fuck it all!!  At least I can spend quality time with them!!

….make My dreams Memories, Millions of feet tall….

Reality.

Knowing….I have food to supply…Medications to buy,

School to instill, so on & so on…

I keep on going

In mechanical hell…

listening to the “get it together” stories of how somebody got it worse

& how somebody had it this way, when they were a child

Well ya know, I’m sorry you had it like that

& I’m grateful for healthy children…Thank My Master every chance I get!! ” I do!!”

but this is a new day & time

It should be better;  damn it it aint!!!!

I’m thankful for My struggles as a child,

because of them “I have the memories of strength to go on”

But, I will not use it for an excuse not to want or expect more!

……& I go on praying the love channeled between my children & I will contain My sanity,

…..& I pray I’m sane long enough to see, they’ve heard & followed Ma’s words to go “up” hill

from their 1^st steps out, fighting like hell to stay at the top….

 “ If you should fall…. fight on the ground, come up fighting, but Don’t stop!” 

Once you’re on the bottom, in the middle even,….

It’s like a shoe’s heel over your head to keep you there…

In the Cesspit.

“You Be!”

5/23/12 © LeTisha.Bowie

Beneath the Keloids

Beneath the Keloids

The artistic eyes see within….

“Thick brown beautiful thang,”

into thickness created around a heart of oak,

into a soul of keloids;

Touching one….

Carrying the pain of its

“Could haves, would haves, should haves,”

… Listening to Her…

Sing the same melodies of Her grandmother…

and embracing another keloid beneath,

Underneath it lays the pain of touches,

which should have never been-

from an uncle, who should have been, a model of men in Her life;

this scar… one overlapping itself, holds much.

and seeing more scars, beneath those keloids…

of touches and demands,

from a cousin, who should have been a playmate, cousin, a friend, but

Who were his models?

and scars….scars within….of…

boyfriends of Her Mama….bastard men, who should have known better,

And, yet, had no fathers to teach them!!

The thickness that’s beyond the skin’s visual resonates,

in eyes as such,

from within the scars built up,

like blocks, only never knocked down- still standing,

as a wars defense mechanisms, against the enemies to come.

…She sees, as the line of men to come….

…no man, with better intentions, than the one prior.

So She’s still standing,

with much,

with them.

They having no stronger mentality, than the men that surpassed the others in Her life.

Trying to break Her Spirit, yet somehow,

She still Stands.

“Thicker, brown, beautiful…

Still….

She Stands.

One Day by One Day.

With Heart, intact,

Loves, Desires, Hopes, Words within….Infinite…

because, She knows the Humanity, Power, Livelihood, Hope and All

that, She holds dear, was also taken years ago, from Our Men.

Then,

instead of ReBuilding…They were freed, into mental slavery, like mad, wild-

tearing down and they held on to what was close- Their “own”,

But, we weren’t to own-

But to share, join, love with, build with You…. Wo”men”-

Forgetting without “Womb”man- they would not exist.

Having lost and forgotten all love and honor for Her…

Seeing when looking into His eyes, My Brother

When looking into Her eyes, My Sister

I see in my dreams that are Ours

It is not always me there…..

“I know that our “Could’ve, Would’ve, Should’ves,”

are intertwined with the desires of structured family …stability, 

It is for these loves… the cost is many lost dreams, which can be reality.

…that I stand

…. that I write what I see

….what my spirit speaks

from within…..”

….Both have come from me,

Wo“Man”…. Wo “Men”

I stand.

Knowing the healing beneath all of Our scars….

all of the keloids that will ever exist…..

I dream and have visions of

© Copyright LeTisha.Bowie 4/29/12

My Mother's Love

My Mother’s Love

She
Taught, as She thoroughly,
Cleaned dishes…
Spotless
we would be,
not in brand name shoes & clothes, in
Hand-made &
by hand, She made &
Molded
us to be, the Women we are…
Stong,
as She, still holding on to Her dreams, as
we
Grow into Ours
daily- She would
discipline our rights &
wrongs, not
allowing disrespect or back-
talking- to us day in and day out…”Girls should
present themselves from the inside, not the out.”….”You
respect your Elders- even those, that aren’t biologically so.” -
“They were- They are- Yours”….They’re
Mine- Treasures I’m holding within my heart, as I’m
Teaching My womb-spring the same
Ancient love,….
old as time- the love of “your” lives…
…..the love of “your” life, is to be
Treasured, like the delved up, stolen gold, of our home’s origination…..
Africa…… taken, as we, yet, never forgotten….for it’s buried…..
Deep within, like the
knowledge Mama
dedicated us, when we were mere youngin’s,
Rebelling,
Fighting back,
for what we thought, then, were the dreams & loves, of our own young hearts, being
Held captive…. &, now, We
hold on to it, like the Ol’ South’s crawfish…. to the
memories of Her every word,
Swallowing the instructed, mature fruit, which have, now, ripened in our minds, from
Dr. Mama, verses Dr. PhD, for those ancient remedies have become consciously understood…..
Accepting the lack of some things, unaffordable, back then, having no matter now,
for the gain of mental & internal riches irreplaceable, today….
Appreciation of the hand-knitted ornaments Mama made, and
pop-corn, strung garland on the tree, we all made together, for…..
we know what life’s struggle is, as….
we are living it…..and Mama still Stands as Our guide…….
Taking value, the dusting of window-
Seals the respect of new visitors, that arrive, with
visions, of the products of a
Strong Mama, who
gave all of Her, so that We could
Be the Women She wanted us to Be……

The Love of My Mother…My Mama will never…can never be forgotten, for, those young thoughts of rebellion have been replaced with what, I, a mother, today, know, was & is The Love of a Child.

Copyright ©LeTisha. Bowie 4/21/12

www.urtheagle1.etsy.com

Love Games

  Love Games

You said, “Wait and see what happens”

I’ve been here heart completely- from the 1^st Chapter

Through your games

Through your changes

I stood

Loved Me like the Queen I am….you “did”

Gentle touches,

Butterfly kisses, and

Firefly glowing eyes;

My helium heart did float- in the 1^st Chapter

….as the pages begin to turn,

so did your games

What I thought was true love,

I, now, know was just the 1^st inning, for you….

What you didn’t know was…..

“With My heart, you get no strikes”

You surely did hit a homerun, though, hunny….

when you struck Me with that fake bunt,

……Just to reel Me in

Your fish I “was”, but, I didn’t bite your hook for long.

I realized, quickly, that I was dealing with artificial artifacts.

….and I spew you out like a pregnant Mama in Her 1^st trimester,

as you had begun to sicken My soul….My being…

before we even began Chapter 2, I slammed that book shut!

Discarded it!

I was beginning to breathe easily,

when you tried again,

tried to use your old key;

the one I knew, no longer fit into my life,

thinking that the locks remained unchanged

a foul, bitter taste of bile came northward my throat…

touching my taste buds, ever so slightly.

just the thought that you would approach me once more with your game,

only this time My heart is harder…stronger…

I am wiser.

even now, you come half-steppin’ with your broken bat,

and same ol’ plays.

I swallow My spittle and smile….

Knowing that I’m not playing or buying your tickets this time ‘round.

I refuse to allow you to play My heart like a softball…

Play with My life….My children.

I’ve grown….your actions show that you still haven’t.

I “see” that you’re still blinded,

holdin’ on continuously to your “friends” and youth vs teaching them.

The refusal to gain wisdom…to increase internally in life…

Saddened by you….I can still smile,

thinking….

thinkin' of what My heart would have given,

what My soul would have shared and wrapped into you….into us

Yeah….saddened, but Free

Free….I am to know that we deserve more

Exhilarated, because of the lessons I have learned…

The strength I have gained, giving me to power to say,

Hell No.

The End.

© ~Urth Eagle Tisha 1/10/12

“LoveTransformstipulations”

bald.

nappy.

bushy.

curls-tight.

It is who I am. It is my birthright!

head,

thighs,

arms,

butt’s all getting’ bigger;

Ignored the lives carried, throughout My life;

Body transformations you see?

Yes.  The obvious, it is that you observe.

Absorb.

My Soul's Love’s reflections, you’ve neglected;

-I’m determined to focus on elevating My Mind’s Intellect.

Education.

Spiritual levitation.

Penetrating the always transforming, exterior visuals you depreciate;

pushing….advancing…enduring in life……I stand. 

spine of alloy……I stand.

consistent with My conviction to learn more of Me! I stand!

eliminating callowness that surrounds me;

trimming physical and mental weight simultaneously,

Knowing your thoughts are simple,

Yet if allowed, your words severe……

Thing Is~

As you’re viewing my exterior transformations, intellectually at halt

My mental revelations ….my emergence will have surpassed you

 All along, as Life sets Her Mastery Scene

My soul….My heart…. It had incessantly remained

Ever-growing, but always reserving Her same love;

With all you perceived with your eyes,

Deep within My Heart’s Soul, my loe, still rested

Eye Content as Am….happily black, bushy, & thick;

I am, as well, renewed and lighter in all ways

How?

How? Now, do you ask me to accept your stipulated love?

There are no stipulations in love

Love gives, unconditionally

Love pours, like an overflowing tub of warm peppermint bath

Love feels, like warm coconut milk overflowing beautiful, brown smoothness

Love’s touch is your flesh….my flesh…..which, is no longer he and she, but we

Love is not 2 but, the connection of Souls, who have become “One”

Love is the part of Souls that is The Over-comer of the hell that life presents,

Giving Lovers the strength to carry on….!!

Love Just Is!!

True love “cannot” transform to stipulations.

True Love can not only transform stipulations,

She makes them non-existent.

© LeTisha.Bowie “Urth Eagle” 12/2011

Lord Don't Move My Mountain

Don't move my mountain by Urth Eagle A song that has been dear to my heart for years and one my mom loves to hear me sing....just a prayer for strength to go on, not to take all of our trials away, but just the power & strength to overcome them. Old Classic song by Inez Andrews has been sang by many artist.......Me singing Lord Don't Move My Mountain

Mama Made A Way

I wrote this when i was in high school, then last year, while talking with a publisher- I tried and tried to edit it, shorten it, etc....to make it into more contemporary poem style, but it's not. It's not nearly the full story, but a brief one of my mothers love and I've decided to share it just as it was written, and as I remember it in its length. Mama made a Way by Urth Eagle