'Resented Truths' by Ana Hagins

What people tend to not like most about others is normally an insecurity they hate about themselves. It’s the fact that someone out there can portray the one characteristic that they are ashamed to admit they have. It’s a type of jealousy that you can’t explain. So when you see it portrayed there’s a type of enmity that grows inside towards them, or so you say. It’s a self-hate that begins to transpire because you can’t bring yourself to admit such a truth.

It’s like somebody I know.

She’s a man hater.

Her experiences have brought her to the conclusion that most men are pirates that only dig for a woman’s treasures and then leave.

So from now on every guy she meets has to go through the twelve trials of Hercules just to get her first name.

“No man can be trusted, even if you’re married to them,” she says.

No one can be trusted because a previous cat let her down.

She has no shame announcing the blockade she has built around her heart, and that’s what I don’t like about her.

I look at the other girl and just wonder…

How can someone take pride in not being able to trust someone who may honestly care for them?

Why would you want to drag them through Fort Knox and every other type of hell just because the last guy messed up?

Maybe it’s the idea of her putting her all into one thing and him not reciprocating the same affection.

Maybe it’s because being vulnerable in a “dog eat dog” world is hard enough without having somebody taking advantage of you.

Maybe it’s because she fears love- an intangible yet strong entity that hates her, that turns friends into enemies, relatives into strangers, and lovers into resentful fighters.

Maybe it’s because she knows that loving someone doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with them.

But what I hate most about that girl is that when I look into the mirror…

I understand her all too well.

POETRY: 'Knock Knock' By Daniel Beaty

POETRY Questions By Danielle Gaskins

Questions by Danielle Gaskins
Do they really know?
Can they really see?
Do they think i care,
what they really teach.
I come cuz' I'm forced,
No just for fun.
So don't ask me question,
and i wont ask you nun'
questions running through,
so many at a time.
Give me space to breath
I cant take it anymore.
Can you tell yet?
Do i need to draw it out?
Stop asking questions,
and I wont ask you nun'.

copyright 2011 Danielle Gaskins

POETRY: 'Sympathized Men' By Ana Hagins

My sympathy lies with men, for in women’s attempt to be equal they have assumed their positions and robbed them of their masculinity. How did a sect of a population accumulate so much power within the last century and then show their gratitude through hypocrisy? It makes no sense to fight for equality and continue to play the role of the weaker vessel.

There is power behind a woman’s ability, but oh, we are such contrary creatures. We want all the rights and duties of a man, who was ordained by God Himself to be the head of households, our protectors and our leaders, but not the responsibility. How can we blame them for wanting to turn back the hands of time when we undermine their judgment and authority? Every creature has a role in life and when men and women occupy the same niche in the area manhood then that leaves one station in neglect- the house.

We play the role of “Mr. high and mighty,” of “Mr. Hey, you, get off of my cloud” because we don’t take pride in our roles as homemakers and housekeepers, which is nothing to be undermined. Women like this independent feeling because according to somebody being submissive is for those who cannot provide for themselves.

Certainly not!

This aura of self-reliance filling the air of feminists has dulled their senses, and filled them with a sense of arrogance that gives them the audacity to put their hands on a man. But let him retaliate, and then the world stops. All of a sudden we are the weaker vessels again- the victims. Domestic violence is a two-way street, but I sympathize with men who suffer in silence because they fear being patronized or ridiculed for not being able to control a wilder beast aka the weaker vessel, but in the eyes of a feminist this is progress.

A sex-oriented civil war, a battle of the sexes is fought by the men because they seek redemption from the pit of shame their women have buried them alive in, but little do they know that it’s too late. We women have already divided and conquered.

Lowly maidservants have become queens. Candaces, Cleopatras, and Queen Victorias are reigning supreme, commanding men everywhere to bow down. During this age women are no longer minorities, but populous, strong individually and collectively…dominant. We have dethroned Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great and Louis XIII and made them lower than peasants, and barely considering them worthy to be counted amongst the grains of dirt beneath our toenails. The men who once wore the pants have been reduced to running shorts. Yes, and women chase them away from the face of glory saying, “Behold men, your superiors.” And this is just the beginning.

I sympathize with men.

POETRY: 'A Virgin's Condemnation' By Ana Hagins

If I actually knew why things were the way they are then I would tell you.

I would love to explain why I desire the forbidden

or why what I can’t have wants me.

To experience affection so foreign would be beyond extraordinary;

it would be fulfilling.

The idea of being embraced

by one whose heart only belongs to you

is unfathomable.

Soft whispers with tender touches and kisses

seem to only be a kind of tease

when you know that there’s more in store.

But let’s be clear on what is desired.

It’s not the actions in and of itself

or the true meaning behind them all;

it’s the attention,

the fact that out of it all

someone takes the time to embrace me.

There are so many other things to do,

but no,

at this moment in time,

for now,

right now,

I am the center of their focus.

I have something at the moment that no one else does

and it intrigues them;

it’s hard for them to turn away.

I am noticed,

finally appreciated

for a brief second in a 24-hour day,

and no one can deter them from me.

I am a Siren.

It doesn’t have to be intimate,

most of the time it’s not.

It’s the casual conversation,

the giggles and smiles

that leave imprints on all participants.

If only you could understand

the since of royalty I feel when they listen,

when they stop and hear my voice carry

through their ears with a melody

like soft rain gently tapping on a stream’s surface.

They respond in ways that make me feel as if my words,

my voice caress their eardrums.

At that present moment I am uplifted.

I am revered

as if to be some holy figure,

an angel.

Attention,

that’s all I want.

The care and warmth

is all I want.

The embracing of their time and space

is all I want.

It doesn’t get any more intimate then that,

but intimacy is a sin for a virgin.

Well I am a sinner,

condemned because I yearn for the tabooed

and thirst for its love.

Do you condemn me, Lord?

If it is truly a sin then please, by all means, cleanse me of it.

Dear Father who art in Zion,

I ask that you would forgive me

for I want what virgins can’t have.

Blot out my iniquities, my fleshly desires,

but if it’s not…

if it is not a sin

then bless me.

Bless me

with intimacy.

Bless me

with affection,

for in the end attention

is all I want,

and that’s the true meaning behind it all.

POETRY: 'Grand Finale' By Kabriel Moorehead

Grand Finale
by Kabriel Moorehead

We now call your attention to center stage
Presenting the grand finale
To this wonderful spectacle of a night
It's only fitting that the end justifies the means
This one time
That finally somebody gets what they worked hard for
And that this endearing crowd is rewarded for its patience
And participation
In the greatest show to ever present itself
In recent memory
All thanks go out to the producers and directors
Who despite major difficulties found a way to complete their duty
But most importantly let's give a round of applause to the actors,
Not that they worked very hard since they've enjoyed their time here so much
Without further ado I present to you what we've all been waiting for,
The one,
The only,
Reflection into the human heart
Because after all these years
We can finally comprehend why all bodies and empires fall;
To provide room for a stronger future

Copyright 2011| Kabriel Moorehead

POETRY: 'A Lifetime' by Jazelle Handoush

A Lifetime

by Jazelle Handoush

We live in the hope for a single moment.

As heat rises crimson red to cheeks

we do brush from blush.

As breaths are stolen from lips

which speak in silence.

And as pounding, so exponentially

outstanding, beats beyond brain and breast.

We live in the hope for a sudden second

Where happiness is self-defined in

the method of the mind.

Where words are muddled with a meaning

we cannot comprehend.

Where sleep is a sudden show of secrecy

And where eyes tell of lies and sad stories.

We live

Yet we for granted take.

For those breaths come as blessing

With a last thought, last breath

We look around the smiling faces among us

And immediately the words come to mind.

Three words, eight letters

A lifetime.

Copyright 2011 | Jazelle Handoush