I sincerely equip myself with crystals. I charge them under full and/or new moons. What is your self care? Practice with love.
There’s something intensely intimate about cooking a meal for a man
then having him hold your hand across the table and say / grace.
In between the “I love you’s”
this is how we reconnect:
I straddle and clutch on to him
for my dear life and he /
recharges himself inside of me with all I have to offer / then
me and my man we go out and change
from the poetry book, Pocket Honey, Wind & Hips
we are spinning on a tilted axis.
growth jilted like crashed jitneys.
two clogged stacked chimneys
with ancient rubble strapped
pain packed along the vertebrae of our spines.
we climb the wilted oak of offense,
roots deeply selfish
cloaked in the pretense of need.
our greed fumbles for logic thru blunt smoke.
sinks cheap bottlenecks into scarlet throats.
falters, praying good head & a firm stroke
can somehow beckon love.
but our lady, she is old.
abused by untold lovers
bold arrows covered & pressed
firm against her breast.
we cannot seduce this cupid
with our feigning dance of devotion.
she can smell our indifference,
denies the golden offerings of heat
stained sheets that reek of jealousy.
we cannot tempt with lack of trust.
there is no cover for our lust.
& so she rejects us.
we are young, stubborn & uneasy
with the unrequited legends of life.
we sharpen our knives with cutting wit.
if luv will not have us,
we will kidnap it, carve it, steal it, maim it
even rename it.
in the dead of night,
stealth covered black, we creep.
palms sweat heavy gripping 9s
we storm upon love
lungs livid as we shout—
we have no fathers
& thus, we have no honor.
our mothers tend the gardens of the tenement.
our teachers are penniless
their patience played so many hands of spades
the jokers themselves are bent.
we’ve been back bending for centuries.
keloid whips still traced in our bitterness.
we try & kiss
but our soured mouths revolt
with the stench of powerlessness.
we are bitches who try & hold
but we are hoes
with unhealthy hearts.
we are niggas love deemed unworthy.
on this nite,
we will have u love.
we will take u in.
our bones shall know affection & respect
our crowns will grow with grace
wild as lilies laced.
rebuild our wings, love.
plant acres of answered prayers.
cash checks paid by timeless dues way past due.
from your plate we consume new food,
bask within enchanted gaze.
& if u evade,
we will seek you out in every cave.
blast you from the depths of every hell in every state.
we will hunt u love,
with a hunger that will never satiate.
noni limar is a content creator, musician and love storyteller living in southern california.
It’s cleansing – the way the rain falls
Dampens and thickens clothes to my soul
now, I can cover myself like others
But / my twisted tongue prays
and the valley crumbles boulders on my shoulders
That only a man should carry.
then he despise me for not wearing skirts
Uphold other women for their softness and high heels
as I scratch the skin off my feet
for following his wide path and narrow view
That even he abandoned when he realized
it was a crooked way.
maybe he didn’t hear my cries of SOS
Or maybe he just wouldn’t admit
He couldn’t swim.