Retiring and New Blogs

The Chronicles of A Steel Magnolia is going to retire for a while, as she needs a face lift. To get a better focus, I have created two new blogs, more focus centered. Check out, "Savannah Serendipity," to learn and entertain you with accounts on love and about love, as my friends and I look for our, "MR. Big." For my short essays and poems check out, "The Steel Phoenix," and you meet a new writing persona.


Thanks:
The Chronicles of a Steel Magnolia

Aquimi Quimi

Aquimi Quimi, expel a little on my lil vaginniti’


Is to little lil’ missy-Mr. You…tripppin, for taller.

Shelter my thrust.

To my delight I expel you out.

Is there peace?

Can there be thugs a must?

No my ghetto rhapsody, pardon my extremity.

Clarity and they knew.

Hey speed, please relieve my prosperity.

-my tranquility is disturbing da’ rhythm of my beat to win the final overtake.

-to walk wit’ you, to walk for you?

I speak not!

Only rhythm and tappin’ aye turpentine spoiler, nappin’ and skipattin’ ran-sakin’ like my Chattanoogan-Motha-Masta’… Bessie Smith, herself …spattin’ to that trumpet.

-while we all follow like a jester to your drumin’ and scumin’

I leave out the dirty-‘dirty’ to have peace in da’ song.

Quit battlin’ and come to beastily’ yellin’ to teach them young-ones to stop.

Peace and beatin’

No way of treatin’ my mom, like yours.

Skip them beats, throw…draws sem’ sand brilliantly… let a new day be bumpin,’ so we can be bindin’ in a united spell

A Kiss of Friendship

Was it, when we took that first dance?

Did you studder? Did you partake in the sudden isthmic space in the rhyme?

To another end, your climb was it…fascinating or peculiar, when your…captivating and resilient inquisitive, green-mahogany eyes first spoke to mine?

Was it when, you Mr. Gentle-man came to my escape… to bring the extreme downtrodden to the rainbow?

Was it when your lips began to caress mine at half-speed, slipping and luxuriously,

-MOST exquisitely… partaking in the spirit of that VERY second, which YOU took a deep breath and your instant heart beat first launched….out of control?

Or was it as we kissed, you breathe….. “stop, wait, again, really is this happening?”

- Upon my life began a friendship which I do not know, and cannot foretell, while the willows grow and the leaves partake in another season?

What it in that instance you finished your discourse above the reasons not, but instead found in your heart rather, without thinking you took the lead?

Did you ever finish the deed that would start this friendship with the brilliance of that inquisitive first glance, in that monstrous first…..Instantaneous kiss?

Waiting, my Dear….Down my back I feel your glare. Then, amongst my hands, among…turning and spinning, I feel your harmonious breathe upon the air.

-You welcome no regard for thought, but only joy in the feeling of not caring at all.

I ponder in my curiosity…”Was it the hip-hop, the rhythm….the beat or the jazz?”

No I think, “the blues, which was orchestrated by the jazz, backed by the hip-hop and systematically dictated by the soul of the moment in which we could not move, could not anticipate, could not resist, and could not believe?”

-which was created in perfect harmony to the orchestrated chance and fusion of both, which brought the generosity of speed in the dance of the moments?

“ Was it just the dance or the spinning of our hips, projected from the splendor of the moon?”

-Oh, that first kiss, while the moon moaned and the glow of words could not be said, when i saw into and beyond your… green-mahogany eyes…..

Mighty…

Mighty….long awaiting the…kiss.

-“Does your eyes take a show to the mystery of the wait and to fascinate the speed?”
Of how mighty!!!!

….Mighty…

You kiss with the baptism of the dance, walking within the ‘swagger’ in the road.
The hymnal of defeat cannot antagonize the arrogance of your own rebellion.

Wow,” the glory of your might!”

- “What should I have done in the quiet here?”

But miserably, I find reassurance in faith can bring me home.

Take the prudence, pride, but do not keep the passion at bay.

But the miracle is nothing more than the distrust of my being trying to contemplate the plan, which has no certain end.

However, While I’m turning the channels I find glory in the presumption to my inquiry…

Well damn… “that, right there, homey”

“That, righty there,”

Again I say…did not expect!”
“that, right there!”

Mr.

Mr. Not Worth It.

Mr. Not My Style.

Mr. You Think I Am Crazy,

You Think I Jealous,

Selfish,

Arrogant,and All About Me.

Mr. Watch Me As I Leave You Brilliantly,
Right Out Of Your Life.

For if I am M. Retreat...
'Ms. Gotcha Off-Beat.'

Also, know that I am future Mrs. President...
A future Mrs. Success,
while you continued to be Mr. Fallow.

I am Ms. Authentic.

Ms. Christian, blessed with His Power to not listen to the woes of Mr. Bring Me Down,
by his Mr. I am Perfect spell.

-With your Mr. I am Trapped Within Myself Soul.

Goodbye, Mr. Not Worth It, Would Be Mr. Self Defeat.

i need a Mr. Encouraging.

A Mr. Neurotic, but Hero at the same time.

Not Mr. Lie.

I need a Mr. Rainbow His Own Treasurer Chest Sent With His Own Blessings.

What I need is a Mr. Self-Control,
and worthy to receive a divinely created and beautiful just Ms. "Lil ole Me."

I Flirt...

Antagonists? Yes, I have flirted with it.

opportunists? Yes, I have flirted with it.

Habits? Yes, I have flirted with it.

Cyclical vices to change my focus, and captivate my authenticity? Yes, I have flirted with it.

Social awkwardness, to reality, back to skepticism, back to clarity, back to social nothingness, to personal discovery of my youth? Yes, I have flirted with it.

Not to excuse my worldly complacency or vices, not to conform to the secular onslaught of horrendous euphemisms you think I took and repeatedly convey, no, not the wicked of those spirited dangers-before my growth is matured and harvested abundantly to grave detail? Yes, I flirt with it.

The simple solutions are the worst; I cannot find my choice, as ‘fickled’ as I am perceived to not find the answers to daily regiments? I flirt with it.

The brutal truth, and you find a tragic and formidable lie, again I let Him know the authenticity of my divine precision and legitimate, genuine chance-yes, I do and have flirted with it.

Ask me again do my words or my ideas make sense? So, I find the need to follow to society’s tradition or in-authentic and glamorous conveyance of societal norms? No, and I flirt with it.

My focus found by my mention with God and this pen? I flirt with it deliberately.

And as a matter of chance, I paint my feelings too? Very, analytically to the world, I suppose. But again I am mightily and preposterously, seen, to just flirt with it.

Politics-

Philosophy-

Feminism-

Mentorship-

I flirt too.

As a person I am seen a naive and robust child. My innocence comes back to afford you with a dream to not just flirt with it, for my own again. In the joy and love of my life, whether right or wrong, He leads me and others and myself on an unintentional escape to have faith, love, be compassionate, strong, weak, human, grow, mature, ignorant, knowledgeable, understanding, encouraging, different, and bold-so I can flirt with it.

TO flirt with all the faculties, functions and purposes of my divine and gifted life
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xZPMlCkDY8&NR=1

When Opposites Collide: the Pseudo -Blood-Brother Saga!!

Part one-the disastrous mess?!

I was intrigued this morning while observing two of my very close friends. The two are best guy friends who live together. They continuously annoy each other in everyday regards of simple house duties. However, I was reminded of the movie, “Knotting Hill.” One continues to ‘keep the house-up,’ while the other, "flat-mate,” does not hold a job regularly and tries desperately to keep order, but carelessly finds some way not to do it exactly right. For these two platonic-domestic partners, they have been friends for 20 years. And live together about 5 of them. SO, you can estimate they have a profound knowledge on how to deal with one another and cope with the significant rigors of arrogant annoyances they continue to tolerate. However, they now are weaning-in on a transformative stage in their process.

I came in and an observed them arrogantly pre-disposed with passive-aggressive conveyances of intrigue. One washes dishes...one item at a time, while the other allows all the items to pile up to create an entire sink-full of dishes, before he either does it or gets entirely distracted and never comes back to the task. In return of not coming back to the original task, the “Flat-Mate,” character, the more carless one fails to honor his regiment. In fact, the other more responsible party solves the dilemma by resolving the issue and just doing the dishes.

Now, why do I introduce this mere mundane and menial relationship? Because the plot has thickened, juristically; basically, the Responsible Party was gone for six (6 weeks) away on the road. The careless Flate-mate, although an extreme ‘type A’ has to regulate everything into a systematic chance of order, things are straighten; however, they are not clean. For all intents and purposes, we will call the Responsible Party, Mr. R.

Mr. R comes back. The floor is not vacuumed. Dishes are washed (since I did them). His room was not cleaned after a visit from a friend (sheets, bathroom, towels). To make matters worse, the walls were not painted for the house inspection coming-up to renew the lease.

The carless, Flat-mate, we’ll just call him Flat-mate.

So getting back on track, Flat-mate in a drunken-belligerent-stupor with his ‘Bro-hances’ or “Bro-steers’ injured two interior walls in the party/dining area, and while carrying a large television upstairs also injured the staircase walls. Now, you may ask? Why do you care? Well, not that you would at all?

However, now the two get very entertaining. Let’s get back to their lease renewal. Not happening. Why?

Part II. Should I intervene?

Flat-mate spills the beans, when asked by the neighbors, “What are they paying in rent?” Carless flat-mate without thinking informs the neighbors what they are paying. Why is it important not to tell? Because they knowingly, understand their neighbors moved-in after them, and are currently paying more. Mind you, all these scenarios are going-on without the consent or knowledge to Mr. R. Mr. R comes back to find his house in shambles, and now is informed by the Landlord rent is going up 30%. But wait!!!

Landlords just called again, Mr. R, now finds his rent through ‘cautious’ means has went from going-up, to the place being rented-out to another lease-holder entirely. At this time, Mr. R and Flat-mate must be out within two months.
The friends are in a disastrous zone. They do not communicate directly. I get caught in the middle.

Why? Because, for the sake of excluding conflict, they do not confront the other at all, they will tell you that is “how they work!” As complacent as all of the non-communication maybe, their dysfunction is functioning very well for them. As the saying goes, ‘If it is not broke, don’t fix it.’

Now, I find myself put-out of the zone of intrigue and passive-aggressive debate by the two dysfunctional brothers. However, they now find unity in their distrust of me and find unity amongst themselves. Now what happened to get to this point?
As you may guess when two friends of the opposite sex spend much fascinating time together, we were… what is the term the kids use today, oh yeah, “feeling each other.”

You are excited I see?
Was it Mr. R or the Flat-mate?

II. How does it end?

As carless as his tendencies persist, and as deprived as his common-sense maybe, I was, “feelin,” the Flat-mate. However, similarly to Mr. R, to get out of a ‘cyclical cycle’ as Flat-mate used to describe my afforded disposition with him, it was the other way around. You see, not taking responsibility and using excuses to progress your need for, “get-it-together,” and, “really?” will surround yourself with either losing those who get to a point where you just cannot deal with it, or accept it.

Given, that I have my own past that I working–on and am encouraged by a great group of non-discounted, few close buddies and MY GOD... I am growing. But in accordance to not being passive aggressive, I did honestly find myself reciprocating the effort of ‘cyclical’ montage of past events. The monotony, while playing the events back in my head like a ‘movie-reel’, I know that each time I went back (enjoying myself fiercely and un-excusably for a time) or would go to a new point of trying to work it out. Although, just some things cannot work out.

Until, Mr. Flat-mate is willing to grow-up and take responsibility, he will continue to pawn his awkward-internal world as a mystical and enlightening façade to the outer realm of real-life living. Rather, he may also have the option to receive a woman in his life who loves all his tendencies and will love him for him. What do I mean by this?

He is great at passing blame on onto others for his own mis-comings and patents each circumstance, as a dismissive fault onto others. Again he patents and is quite gifted in revealing your clear areas of improvement, but will not take his own recommended criticisms into belief and apply them to his own mature-needed growth.
Mr. R and Flat-mate were very re-united by a third intervening party. When asked on-line by a third party what happened with Flat-mate? I responded giving a vague comprehensive summary of the final, “I cannot take this shit anymore fiasco,” reported to the two 20 year ‘bro-hansters’ that I in fact called them gay. To the contrary, I reported in the final correspondence in the thread that “besides, lol, l can’t break-up their platonic domestic partnership, lol” jokingly. I guess they can kid around amongst themselves, but the theory is, “don’t mess wit my brudder!” lol.

No matter what I have, I had fun-times with Mr. R and Flat-mate.

I love them both and wish them the best.

I am "country strong" on Mother's Day.

I was watching the movie, “Country Strong,” and Beau says that Kelly Canter could not handle both fame and love (Sony Pictures, 2010). I wondered is this, ‘my fate?’ Is this why I have not stumbled upon someone to love me, for me? But what I can offer then? Or be a man’s trophy upon his arm. Or to be defeated by a façade which turns out to be again for recreational use? “Hmmmm, Is this my fate?”

I have felt closer to God than ever before, over the past few years. He has shown me that my greatest love cannot know me in that way, yet, because I took him for granted. “Is this my greatest vice?” I ask myself again.

The bike accident last week, the car accident. My grandfather gone. My mother going to a funeral for mother’s day. I struggle with friends who are not there for me, and others I do not have the trust with yet. I struggle with someone, God keeps from me.

I struggle with money. Then I live up to the public image while, I now struggle with alcoholism. I handle things on my own through mediation with my Farther. How hard it was last night letting Mother’s Day get to me, while relaxing and watching this very intense movie. I wanted to reach for the bottle of Jack, I harbor upon the top first shelf of my hanging bookcase separating my small efficiency kitchen from the main room of my very humble one-room studio apartment.

I wanted to call Chuck my best friend, whom I prayed to not exactly replace another friend. But, truth is the other friend is now getting married and has cut me off from his life living in his own imaginative world. He told his now fiancé, I wanted be in a relationship with him. You can gather I never did and still do not. However, I lay vast… by myself tormented and praying. I want the taste of the Jack in my mouth to relax me and remedy my problems. Then again, I know I cannot. How I urge to use! How I desire Jack to be my device of relaxation.

Then, I stopped because the defeat cannot be of my own making. Drinking till I cannot stop with gut-wrenching exposure to very high-risk behavior. I cannot transpose myself to the misery upon the taste of that bottle. I stopped.

I understood the character of Canter, someone once strong-dying to her own devices; she giving into her bad self-abusing habits (Sony Pictures, 2011).

Then again, I talk to ‘Chuckles’ and let all come out!?

He asks, “have you eaten?”

I say, “no!” As I try to push him away.

Then I say, “Yes, I have eaten well today. That is now, what it is. I haven’t written or painted in a while.”

He says, “Carry, you need to let it out!”

He says, “Maybe you should get back to yourself.”

Then my phone dies. I watch the rest of the movie. I remember the sadness I felt when I lost both grandparents, while going through puberty, lost my first love, my best friends all pushed me away, and I became a prisoner within my own world.

I remember the poem I first wrote, contemplating the horrors of death and trying to figure out, “why?” And then I became obsessed with the idea of death. it Just so happened, while I remember that summer watching an old series of, “ Dark Shadows,” (Dan Curtis Productions, 1966-1971) with my mother, I discovered the character of Barnabus Collins, and Elizabeth Collins, who were buried alive. Coincidentally, ‘Vicki’ on, “One Life to Live,” (ABC, 1993) was also experiencing the same story-line.

Comparatively, I felt almost like I was buried alive by the world who seeks to exploit and seek division in me.

I had no one: My mom working, my farther sick with epilepsy & his normal health problems. I remember this was the defining summer of my 14th year of existence. I began to transform and discover myself through writing and self-reflection.
Now, I draw back and understand the new premise for my existence through all the turmoil, I face with God: testing me in order to understand my future blessings.

I stop as I am about to fall asleep and remember the words I first wrote on paper……
I am drowning deep in my sleep…
…… in a coffin dead but alive.
Pouring aloud with ideas in my head.
No time for worry or sorrow.
Free from sickness and pain.
Just enough time to be Rushing free like a bee that just won’t die.
Fleeing endlessly, flying to another sky.
But again I lay a steel magnolia buried 10 degrees deep…..
Buried alive!

I added the last two lines, which I do not completely remember to describe how I feel, dealing with my new captivity from my disease of alcoholism. I can conquer alcoholism myself! Who is my sponsor? God, Jesus, Christ; and best friend, Chuck, who listen’s without repute. He gives me God’s grace as His vessel and to keep me away from harming self-defeat.

Now time to paint and self-reflection!