The Only Luxury

This is a piece I wrote recently about a young girl facing a dilemma: does she follow the rules she's been taught, or does she go with her heart on this one? She goes back to the source for help, but ultimately, the decision is hers to make. Hers and hers alone.

The Only Luxury

Mommy,

You'll be so proud of me,

I've found myself the perfect man, finally!

He's got PhD.s and all kinds of other degrees

from the best universities you could ever imagine.

He's got a great job in a big company

And my friends are all jealous of me

because I managed to bag him.

And mommy,

you should see when I go shopping!

The mount of things I take home in my shopping bag dem.

Gucci dis, Louis dat,

name any designer and you know I got dem.

And I don't even have to do a thing.

He says no wife of his should be working,

so all I have to do when I'm not shopping,

is take care of the house for him,

and make my daily trips to the gym

to keep this body looking right for him

so i'll look good on his arm at company functions and things.

But mommy,

On nights when he's been out drinking,

He comes in with his arms swinging,

and when I look in the mirror the next morning,

I don't even know this person I'm seeing

because her face is so badly swollen

from the beating and the biting and the kicking and the thumping and the slapping and the boxing.

And my womb is still crying.

Woie mommy!

I don't even feel like going shopping anymore because my friends don't believe me anymore when I tell them I walked into a door and that's what caused my latest bruising.

Mommy,

I don't feel like going shopping anymore, because the only thing I want is the one thing I know I can't afford, and that's to buy my freedom.

Mommy,

I know you're so proud of me,

But if you knew what this perfect man does to me

behind closed doors,

would you still be?

...................................................................

Mommy,

Please be happy for me.

I've found myself a good man, finally.

He doesn't have any PhDs,

and no fancy job or money to spend on me,

But he's got street smarts and so much ancient wisdom in that big old heart that he's opened up to me

for free.

See, he's not asking me to have money to spend on him and buy him things in return for the love he's giving.

And he's not even asking any reciprocity of me.

No, all he asks is for my honesty and that I just be me,

so he can love me.

And he's got history.

He's been through so much and come so far that to me

his courage and ambition are a sheer mystery,

but just being with him motivates me.

And he worships me.

He's got these big old arms that are so big and strong

But when I start acting funny, he just wraps them around me gently and asks,

"Baby, what's wrong?"

And he makes me smile.

Well actually, he makes me laugh out loud like a little child

and I'm so happy when I'm with him

that I’m starting to forget everything that happened before him,

just like my friends who say I can do better than him have obviously forgotten the beatings and emotional scarring

before him.

And I see a father in him.

He's the kind of man who'll teach his little girl that all the material things in this world don't mean a thing

because she's going to leave them all behind when she dies and what really matters is what's inside,

so he'll teach her to be beautiful from the within.

And he'll teach his son to always be strong and have pride,

Be honest in his dealings with those around him,

work hard, and find a strong like-minded woman to stand beside him,

and together they'll make it through anything,

and in so doing,

he'll make his mother proud of him.

Mommy,

I know it's too much to ask you to be proud of me

because I know you were expecting more for me,

But can you please at least be happy for me that I found myself a good man finally?

He may not be “the perfect man” you had in mind for me,

But he loves me unconditionally,

And his love isn’t tied to money.

He's ready to devote his life to making me happy.

For as long as I will let him.

For as long as will accept him.

For as long as I can accept to be happy

With a life simple and free,

A life where love is the only luxury.

Pernais Morrison©

Nubian God (A story)

I’m wrapped in the embrace of a Nubian god, the kind that could only be penned by a Colin Channer, a Kwame Dawes. A man so beautiful, he defies all of nature’s laws.

His body is sculpted from stone, his heart, warm and soft. And even though you’ve just met him, one look into his eyes and you can see inside him. And his love for life is the only thing that transcends his love of art.

He’s holding me close from behind, his lips on my ear. His breath warm and sweet on my neck has me thinking that this is so much better than sex. His arms are wrapped around me. I’m enveloped in his warmth, the tender strength of his hard body, as we dance in the middle of a street-dance where all the patrons have faded into another time and space. The street is ours, and ours alone as we dance to the rhythm of something slow. Beres Hammond “What one dance can do” has us steadily grinding into each other, each following the other's pace.

He’s still holding me from behind, and lets his hands glide from my waist down to my thighs, then back up to my hips, where his fingers play the same tune he’s playing on my neck and shoulders with his lips. Then his palms cup the cheeks of my ass and with a tiny double-squeeze, I feel a wobble in my knees. So, I lean further into him, but not for support. I just want to be closer to him. And he presses further into me as we grind, so close now that I can feel him blink, his rock-hard shaft pulsating like a raft on the tiny stream of sweat trickling down the valley south of my waist where my two ridge-like mounds meet.

I’m clinging to him now, nails digging into his thighs. He has one hand wrapped around my lower body, the other tracing a path along my stomach, circling my navel mischievously. Then, continuing upward along my taut abs and straying still further north, he pauses between my breasts, fingers splaying out for a quick caress, then after resuming their journey, they come to rest gently wrapped around my neck.

I’m leaning forward now, one hand on my knee, spine fully outstretched, my hips moving in a trance-like dance as I roll my ass for him. His fingers free my neck to dance over the curves of my lips, and I flick my tongue out, warm and wet, dancing over his delving fingertips.

He whips me around to face him, fingers entwined in my necklace, which he uses to pull me towards him, and I feel it slip from my neck as it breaks and falls from his fingers hitting the ground one precious bead after another. And I feel like screaming, but my voice is a mere whisper when I ask him,

“Did you have to do that?”

Lips pressed to my ear, he replies,

“Yes, because I needed to do this…”

And with his fingers digging into my upper arms, he strings beaded kisses along my naked neck and shoulders, unhindered by beads and strings.

He’s now sucking on the soft silkiness where the top of my dress meets the top of my breasts, and I’m clawing at the muscles rippling through his back. I’m so hot now, I feel like I’ve melted into him and we’ve been smoldered together by the fire burning beneath our skin.

Suddenly, he eases me away to stand tall and look down into the depths of my soul. And in a voice hoarse with passion, he whispers my name and says,

“Baby, there’s just one thing I need from you.”

I’m mesmerized. Dumbstruck, my eyes reply,

“Yes, baby. Anything you want, you know I’ll do!”

And he begs me,

“Kiss me baby! Just kiss me! I need it now!”

Fingers grasping his cheekbones, I pull his face down towards mine, and our lips collide in a hungry kiss, hard and wet, like the crashing of a wave into a ready and inviting shore. I feel his energy rushing into me, his hips still moving against me as our lips engage in a passionate play-fight as beautiful as a dance, a martial art, the ebb and flow of the tide. And his teeth are nipping at my lips, rough but still gentle enough to have me fully aroused, like the stubble on his face as my fingers make their way to the nape of his neck.

His hands on my hips, he raises me ever so slightly, and positions himself beneath me. I shiver as his knee brushes my inner thighs, slowly moving up, and further up, until I feel him gently nudging at my opening, willing me to open up to him. My lips finally part, and he slides his tongue in, declaring a readiness to claim what he knows belongs to him.

I open up wider, taking him in, surrendering everything to him, falling so deep into him that I can no longer stand on my own two feet. My legs now wrapped around, my fingers twisted into his dreads. I cling to him for dear life, knowing that whatever dreadful twists and turns life may bring, I could cling to him. I wanted to face them with him.

And he needed me there with him. But all he ever asked was that I kiss him. And his lips are sweet and firm, like the swollen pulp of some mystery fruit, the name of I never did learn.

And as I’m biting into him, I feel him pulling away from me. I’m looking into his eyes now, and I can see him drifting away from me. And the part of me that wants to cling to him is twisting and turning, but there’s another part of me that knows there’s no use fighting.

So I open my fingers and smile at him. And although he looks scared, I know it’s time to say goodbye to him.

And with that, I open my eyes to the morning, cursing reality’s timing. The sheets, a twisted heap on top of the bed I’m lying in, alone. No Nubian god next to me. And I start to ask myself what could it all have meant? Who was this man in my dreams, and why did it all feel so real? Why did he beg me to kiss him? And what was it about the way he kissed me that did more for me than any orgasm ever did?

And then it was all as clear as day to me. As the faces of every lover I’ve ever had began to flash before my eyes in single file, I realised that none of them had ever kissed me a simply kiss that could penetrate to the core of me. Penetration usually took place with something else. And yes, I’ve had some good sex, but when it’s over, what do you have left? The memories will also wilt and shrink back into your head.

But this one kiss with the Nubian god, the man of my dreams, was confirmation of something I had always told myself, but never quite believed. It’s going to take more than sex to satisfy me. Yes sir, it will definitely take more than sex to make me happy.

So the next time I meet a stallion of a man in the street and he has stripped me naked with his eyes and is probing me with a piercing look of lust, I’ll look him deep in the eyes and simply say to him,

“I know that you can fuck me, but can you kiss me?”

“I know that you can wuk mi, but can you kiss me?”

“Missa Man, Missa Tan-pon-it-long,can you kiss me?”

“Can you kiss me?”

“Can you KISS me!!?"

Saturday January 8, 2010.

Poetry (Last Night)

This is the last in my series of "angry love poems", planning on being happy this year. Lol. This one is excessively angry, but don't blame me, blame the drinks! It's a piece I wrote some time ago. Just publishing it because it's the last of its kind and I'm not planning on writing any more like it so I just needed to get it out there.

Also, will probably be taking a break from writing. Can't say how long, but these days when I get the urge to write, what comes to mind makes me cringe and somewhere deep in the back of my mind I scream "Not another love poem!!". Got to find something else to write about, or resist the urge to write when it comes along.

Till then, thanks to you all for reading my shit, even if you didn't like it. For those who had good things to say, I really appreciated the support. Blessed love.

Last Night

Last night,

We danced circles around each other,

The whole time, you leading me on.

You smiled at me, like you knew more than I did about me,

We danced to the music of our own song, last night.

Last night,

You took my hands, cold from my frozen strawberry daiquiri,

And warmed them against your body.

You kissed them, wrapped them around your neck,

Your own hands playing with the curls at the nape of my neck

As together on the dance floor we worked up a sweat, last night.

Last night,

You held me from behind,

Whispered sweetness into my ears

Made me blush like a little schoolgirl,

I almost turned as pink as my nails,

Nails that dug into your back

Nails that traced the freckles on your face

Nails that dipped below your waist as we danced, last night.

Last night,

You wanted to have the rest of our lives planned.

Tried to convince me that long-distance relationships weren’t as bad as I thought and,

Though you’re moving to another country, you still wanted to be with me.

Whatever it takes to make it work, we’d come up with a plan

Cuz you wanted, no, you needed to be my man, last night.

Last night,

You were so into me,

Asked me so much about my family, what I did in college,

You asked what I studied,

Said it would be good to teach our kids different languages.

Yeah, we talked about our families, and me having your babies, last night.

Last night,

We left the club together,

Looking to satisfy our hunger

for cheeseburger and fries,

And when we finally made it back inside,

You kissed me, like you had been waiting your whole life for me,

Like your life was nothing before me,

Like you wouldn’t know how to live without me,

Like you had finally come to life, last night.

Last night,

You had me wide open.

Your tongue in places it really had no business being,

Causing mini-earthquakes under my skin,

Wide open,

on the bed, on the floor,

Me kissing you like I’ve never kissed anyone before,

Kissing you like I may never kiss anyone again,

Boy, you had me wide open, last night.

But last night,

I had this strange gut feeling,

And it wasn’t from all the alcohol I’ve been drinking this weekend,

It wasn’t because of my period again

No, I had this strange feeling in my gut about YOU.

You were just too good to be true

You made me feel special,

Like I was the only woman in the world for you,

Like I’d never meet another man like you,

You made me want to forget that I had just met you, last night.

And this morning,

When I woke up,

That feeling was still in my gut,

And even after puking all the alcohol up,

A few things about you still worried me.

Guy like you, as fine as fine could be,

Good job, nice personality,

Yet no wife, no girlfriend, no children,

Oh, it worried me.

Or could it be that I just got really, really lucky last night?

So this morning,

When I finally got up,

Instead of celebrating my luck

I called my girlfriends up

And I’ll admit to feeling dumb as fuck

When they told me that you said the same things that you told me last night

To our sistren Kelly Rushmore from ova Portmore the night before

And that’s not all,

Last week it was Michelle, Camille, their gay friend Steve and his cousin Paul,

Oh you dirty, dirty boy!

What the fuck was I doing with you last night?

But as much as I didn't want to believe,

I kinda felt a bit relieved

Cuz while some other girl would have been terribly heart-broken this morning,

Me, I put it all in a poem

Knowing that throughout the whole ordeal,

You might have had me weak in the knees

But my heart remained as fucking frozen

As those strawberry daiquiris you kept buying

So I could wash down the lies on which you had me feeding

last night.

Lies that tasted so sweet on your lips

As you knelt between my hips

Last night.

Pernais Morrison©