"to write your memories on my heart too"

Memory
BY Susan Baba

Tell me the places you’ve been.
I want to write your memories on my heart too.
I want to see that starry and faraway look
And travel to that place with you.

The first sunset –
You were so tiny beside the vastness of that Arabian coast
But you never would have known it from the power in your voice.
You were not scared.
You stared down the sun
Made it quiver in its boots
And, when you were finished,
You coaxed the moon out to play with the tapping of two sticks.
Your baby sister did not understand
But I promise I will.

Take us back there.

To the first day you learned that you were invincible –
You swung higher and higher
Everything below looking liked patchwork and pebbles
You leaned forward,
Let go,
And jumped regally off of the swing set.
No cape, but you were just as majestic.
No parents and their cautious hands below to catch you
Just you and air and courage.

Take us back to that place.

Where the timbre of her voice rang even in your dreams
She was a flawless first love.
Her hair smelled like Magnolia blossoms and her smile made it all make sense.
You wanted to kiss her forever
But she turned her face too quickly
Took a step away from you and never looked back again.
Tell me how it pained you to let her walk away, without so much as “I love you” or “goodbye.”
How you vowed to keep walking too,
In the path of your own choosing, this time.
You must have thought the world was ending then.

So, tell me how it ended.
How many “hallelujahs” it took to lead you back to yourself and onto my doorstep.
I want to know.

You are a man.
A brave and collected soul.
You come to me worthy of much admiration
But, I know your path was not always straight
That you fought your way through thick forests
That made you look around for your father’s arms
Let's travel back there.
Feel the intensity of those things already past.
When you go back to those memories,
Take me with you.

Dropping Truth on your Dome!!

Remember the Last Booty Call on Earth?

"Even when he cannot remember his name
or even his own address,
my number clings to his mind –
distant but clear"

Yeah. That one. I've been getting a few questions on why and how that poem came to existence and thought it best to address it in the public webisphere:-) I was able to explain the poem's origin and much more to a friend a few months back and thought I might re-post my response here.

You can read the full poem after the jump.

enjoy!
sb

ps...I'm oh-so stoked that people are reading the blog and that it's making them think. ::Blessed::

The simple fact is that most women, myself included, have self esteem issues. Sometimes these are relatively small and interfere, only minimally, with our daily lives. But sometimes, our skewed sense of self is debilitating and makes us do things that our wiser selves would blush at...We go back to the men that hurt us because laying in the arms of even the wrong guy can feel like "love." We crave that false sense of uniqueness that even the wrong male attention brings...to remind us that we are not just another body roaming the planet. That, even if only for an hour or a day, we are somebody...desired and desirable.

And I say "we" because it has been me and at times still is. It's funny how, even with this sort of emotional clarity, I still fall for it. It's almost like I'm carrying my raw heart in my hands, waiting for someone to help me carry it the rest of the way...and before finding out if the guy is trustworthy or even simply worthy, I hand over my heart...all of my love...and pray that he will handle it with care. Most often, he does not. Whether it is because he cannot or chooses not to, I can never know for sure.

So there it is. It pretty much boils down to low self esteem and insecurity. On the bright side, I'm learning that the more I start believing that I deserve better, the less tolerant I become of anything less. Hence "the last booty call on earth" post. I'm also learning that I am lovely and lovable...internalizing that shit and making it my mantra...reminding myself that I was created for nothing less than true love, by a God that is so much more. -susanbaba

An Ode to Tax Season...and ME!!

So, the back story is very necessary here:

I asked my friend Phil to help me with my taxes, because he's a whiz at all things financial. Then I decided to try to work it out on my own, because I felt like I should at least try the TurboTax deal before pawning my junk off on others. I thought I was bring thoughtful, but he was DEVASTATED (or so he say...lol).

He decided to whip out his poetic charm to write this beautiful ode to...my taxes. Talk about nerd to the n-th power:-) Despite the "surprise ending," I loved it a bunches and was way flattered that he took the time to write me a poem!

enjoy this hilarious piece!

Susan Baba’s Taxes
BY Mr. Philip Richard Thoms

It was a birthday party of a mutual friend
Never would have guessed it would be the beginning to the end
A yellow scarf and your beautiful natural hair
Looking like an Amberly Village millionaire
When you looked me in my eyes
I felt like Jet Li fighting in Shanghai
The words I thought you would never utter
My heart began to race than flutter
Philip, “Will you do my taxes?”
You were the logs and I was the axes.

Federal, State, and Local
It was loud so I had to be vocal
Though I tried to stay nonchalance
You could tell by my stuttered response
That the excitement I could not bear
It was as if you asked me to have a love affair
Because I knew what it really means
To possess the knowledge of what one does with her green
Subtract line sixty-three from sixty-four

One deduction only! Score!

A week passed
I knew, I knew I was not miscast
Until I received that fateful call
And you said Ese will do it all
I tried to stay composed
As the tears down my check flowed
You hiding all your deductions
Caused an emotional eruption
Your total income line is what I desired
But before I was even in the game, I retired
So Susan Baba I will give it to you straight
All I have for you now is hate.

I'm Not Lonely...Any More

A week ago, I was totally dreading Valentine's Day. I mean, for a single girl, all of the lovey-dovey stuff can really deepen your own sense of romantic longing, but today actually went much better than expected.

No exes, no random text messages, no loneliness. Just quality time with really good friends and some much needed "me" time. Yes, it's been a crazy past 8 months in my romantic universe, but the sting of the last one has all but worn off. I'm finally realizing that I'm stronger than I ever gave myself credit for (yay) and that he held a much looser grip on my heart than I previously thought (double yay!!).

As they say...on to the next one:-)

I'm Not Lonely
BY Nikki Giovanni

I'm not lonely
sleeping all alone
you think I'm scared
but I'm a big girl
I don't cry or anything

I have a great
big bed to roll around
in and lots of space
and I don't dream
bad dreams like I used
to have that you
were leaving me
anymore

Now that you're gone
I don't dream
and no matter
what you think
I'm not lonely
sleeping
all alone

The Last Booty Call on Earth

Tonight, (after talking to a former crush whose interests lie more strongly in the parts below my neck than those above it) I was inspired to write a poem. It's a pretty somber piece that doesn't end as I would end it in my life today, but I needed to get it off my chest for one last time. It's sort of a last hoorah for the woman in me who once thought that a drunk text at 2a or a random booty call was an appropriate proxy for love.

That woman has long since fallen by the wayside, but she will be buried for good in 2009. AMEN!

So, Au-Revoir to the 2009 Booty Call! Mr. Late-Night-Text, please delete my number. Unlike the girl in the poem below, I am not afraid to reject your calls:-)

Enjoy and Stay Safe this NYE!

The Last Booty Call on Earth
BY Susan Baba

He only calls when he is drunk these days.
It is only when the bottle leaves him stumbling
that he craves the strong anchor of my arms
Yearns for the solid ground,
soft blanket of my ever-abiding love for him.

Even when he cannot remember his name
or even his own address,
my number clings to his mind –
distant but clear

He remembers that I am good
and honest
and waiting
With eyes that never ask why,
hands that can carry all that he wish he were but cannot be,
a head that will stand tall,
lips that will not quiver,
a mouth that will never open up
and ask him to stay for breakfast.
A tongue,
Oh, that silent tongue -
the one that promises not to betray the heart
that's breaking just a few inches below.

This wretched body -
always open and accepting
These horrid hands -
forever waiting and forgiving.

Despite my best attempts,
I will always
answer
the phone.

The Hardest Part of Breaking Up...Is Getting Back Your Stuff

To steal a line from MTV's fictional boy band 2Ge+her, "The hardest part of breaking up, is getting back your stuff"...and, I would add, your sanity. Breakups are crazy for so many reasons. When they happen, they totally turn your world upside down and leave you with sadness, questions, a meteor-sized hole where your partner used to be. Even if you're the one who ended it, it's most definitely no walk in the park.

If you are lucky enough to survive those first post breakup months, though, you find out that there are some perks to breaking up. For one, you get the freedom to focus on new things that you love (especially the things that your boyfriend or girlfriend hated). It's also fertile ground for a budding poet. My breakup was many months ago, but I've finally gotten enough distance from it to be able to write some pretty introspective pieces about our time together and my thoughts on our breakup. I've included one of these below and will share a few more breakup-related poems throughout the coming weeks. Let me know what you think.

ps...actual names have been replaced with singular pronouns, to protect the innocent (and not so innocent)

Sorry
BY Susan Baba

We communicate in I’m sorrys.
Sorry for taking so long to text you back,
I wasn’t sure how to say it.
Sorry for never calling you back,
I didn’t think you would want to hear my voice.
Even across a crowded club,
My eyes say I’m sorry as I flirt with another.
And as we get a feel for what this “friends” thing is supposed to be,
We’re filled with I’m sorrys
For all that we choose to leave unsaid.
As you might have guessed, we were lovers once
And there is so much to be sorry for
Much too much to be sorry for
But I don’t regret ever loving him.
I don’t.

Stuff I Write: Rules of Engagement (All 3 Parts)

Rules of Engagement
BY Susan Baba
1.
listen to my heart
does it sounds broken to you?
you see, a heart can only take so much pain
can only crumble into so many pieces
before it is gone

2.
lover
when you take your leave
let it be complete
leave no trace of the broken fragments for me to slip upon
take away every remembrance of us
until
there is no more

3.
to me
love is an unfamiliar term
I squint hard to remember when I knew it well
knew you
loved you like flesh of my own
saw the word "eternal" sketched across our love
but now
no more
no more knowing your life in beautiful detail
holding each syllable
every word
in my mind to draw upon and smile
no more sitting forehead to forehead
willing you to kiss me first
no more talking to you first thing
and last thing
finishing your sentences before you do
no more us, really
no more us.

I know that "friendship" was what we had agreed to
but this cannot be
you see, even my body remembers you
feels your palm on the small of my back
when no one is there
even my eyes remember you
see flashes of your smile on the face of another
so
no
more
I will no longer be your lover,
but I cannot be your friend

Stuff I Write: Rules of Engagement (Part 2)

Rules of Engagement: Part 2
BY Susan Baba

lover
when you take your leave
let it be complete
leave no trace of the broken fragments for me to slip upon
take away every remembrance of us
until
there is no more

Read Part 1

Stuff I Write: Rules of Engagement (Part 1)

Ok friends. I know I may sometimes sound like some googly-eyed, love idealist, but I'm not. I'm also not a depressed, heart broken chica. Yes. I have had more than my share of love, heartbreaks, and self-inflicted wounds, but I really just love writing poems about the emotion of love. Every facet of it. So, hope you enjoy my latest.

This is the first part of a three part piece I just finished. Enjoy!

Rules of Engagement: Part 1
BY Susan Baba
listen to my heart
does it sounds broken to you?
you see, a heart can only take so much pain
can only crumble into so many pieces
before it is gone.