MY ANGRY VAGINA- Monologue originally written for Whoopi

My vagina's angry. It is. It's pissed off. My vagina's furious and it needs to talk. It needs to talk about all this shit. It needs to talk to you. I mean what's the deal — an army of people out there thinking up ways to torture my poor-ass, gentle loving vagina. Spending their days constructing psycho products, and nasty ideas to undermine my pussy. Vagina Motherfuckers.

All this shit they're constantly trying to shove up us, clean us up — stuff us up, make it go away. Well, my vagina's not going away. It's pissed off and it's staying right here. Like tampons — what the hell is that? A wad of dry fucking cotton stuffed up there. Why can't they find a way to subtly lubricate the tampon? As soon as my vagina sees it, it goes into shock. It says forget it. It closes up. You need to work with the vagina, introduce it to things, prepare the way. That's what foreplay's all about. You got to convince my vagina, seduce my vagina, engage my vagina's trust. You can't do that with a dry wad of fucking cotton.

Stop shoving things up me. Stop shoving and stop cleaning it up. My vagina doesn't need to be cleaned up. It smells good already. Don't try to decorate. Don't believe him when he tells you it smells like rose petals when it's supposed to smell like pussy. That's what they're doing, trying to clean it up, make it smell like bathroom spray or a garden. All those douche sprays, floral, berry, rain. I don't want my pussy to smell like berries or rain. All cleaned up like washing a fish after you cook it. I want to taste the fish. That's why I ordered it.

Then there's those exams. Who thought them up? There's got to be a better way to do those exams. Why the scary paper dress that scratches your tits and crunches when you lie down so you feel like a wad of paper someone threw away? Why the rubber gloves? Why the flashlight all up there like Nancy Drew working against gravity, why the Nazi steel stirrups, the mean cold duck lips they shove inside you? What's that? My vagina's angry about those visits. It gets defended weeks in advance. It won't go out of the house. Then you get there. Don't you hate that? "Scoot down. Relax your vagina." Why? So you can shove mean cold duck lips inside it. I don't think so.

Why can't they find some nice delicious purple velvet and wrap it around me, lay me down on some feathery cotton spread, put on some nice friendly pink or blue gloves, and rest my feet in some fur covered stirrups? Warm up the duck lips. Work with my vagina.

But no, more tortures — dry wad of fucking cotton, cold duck lips, and thong underwear. That's the worst. Thong underwear. Who thought that up? Moves around all the time, gets stuck in the back of your vagina, real crusty butt.

Vagina's supposed to be loose and wide, not held together. That's why girdles are so bad. We need to move and spread and talk and talk. Vaginas need comfort. Make something like that. Something to give them pleasure. No, of course they won't do that. Hate to see a woman having pleasure, particularly sexual pleasure. I mean make a nice pair of soft cotton underwear with a French tickler built in. Women would be coming all day long, coming in the supermarket, coming on the subway, coming happy vaginas. They wouldn't be able to stand it. Seeing all those energized, not taking shit, hot happy vaginas.

If my vagina could talk it would talk about itself like me, it would talk about other vaginas, it would do vagina impressions.

It would wear Harry Winston diamonds, no clothing, just there all draped in diamonds.

My vagina helped release a giant baby. It thought it would be doing more of that. It's not. Now, it wants to travel, doesn't want a lot of company. It wants to read and know things and get out more. It wants sex. It loves sex. It wants to go deeper. It's hungry for depth. It wants kindness. It wants change. It wants silence and freedom and gentle kisses and warm liquids and deep touch. It wants chocolate and trust and beauty. It wants to scream. It wants to stop being angry. It wants to come. It wants to want. It wants. My vagina, my vagina. Well...It wants everything. 

COPPA COLPR HALF CHINY

Dem can try….Dem can try

But dis natty head, long hair

Leather skin chile

Nah go mek society kneed

Nuh blow job- from gun shot,

Sid dung pon road side life style.

Nah Rub fi look like duppy,

Nah put pon mi head wat is not fi mi.

Self hatred and low self esteem nah do it fi me.

Mi bigga dan dat…Mi betta dan dat

Dis coppa color half chinese catty

Nah go mek nuh random man

Feel up feel up,

Touch up touch up har batty

Yuh MAD?! End up a oman centre?

Fi wat? Beg a likkle fi mek a muckle

Fi mi unborn chile? Fid dat? YUH MAD?!

Weh dem feel like?....Weh mi look like?

Man fi si dis and see Prado, X5 an Range Rover

Not nuh insignificant speck

Weh mongrel dogs a dead over!!!

Dis half chinie a di oman weh mek Tyrus Riley

Sing “she’s royal, so royal”

Suh man must kno dem place

And stay loyal.

Nuh mek mi shining beauty blind yuh,

Mi chop up standard English fool yuh,

Or mi “wana be” Cocoa Bukle shape provoke yuh

Cause unda dis coppa color half chinie ass

A one fullbread WOMAN of class.

One bag a talking

Fi get di Catty walking

Mi nuh bruk man wallet, seh mi a 'service' oman

Mi nuh spread out, or “si dung pon it”.

Mi nuh “fling it up” fi nuh one night stan

Fi Joe Grine and Oral sing “PRAM PRAM”?

Kiss mi nek side, anyting can go suh?

Man start mek pass seh dem can eat yuh like mango?

Mi nuh haffi have a man fi mek me happy

A me a di Wifey inna proverbs terty.

Mi have di cross all ova pon mi

Mi a try fi live di path a Christianity

WOMAN 3

Journey with me as I take you through the mind and heart of a young woman. Journey to her third life with a third party. For in all her existence, this number has played a comical role in her voyage through life. Stigmatized in the triangles that swayed her emotions, played her heart as strings of a harp…melodious, calm, gentle and yet pronounces a story, a song that so powerfully evokes tears and understanding from the audience she writes her tune to. The ears that sees her life as she portrays it. For in her words are songs of passion, portraits of colors as the artist relays her message on canvas……hard canvas, rough canvas, strong canvas. She is now a painter of words in different Hues and different shades. How ironic these colors are in her life. For the hue is personified as the one who gradually makes her heart whole again, no longer belonging carelessly to another, no longer halved between the love for herself and the loved of another….the love for the shade that darkened her heart. The hue now sheds light upon her shaded demise. She gradually separates herself from the women of yesterday, from a woman, a seductress, a Christian, a daughter, a lover and me, all one. She is no longer the woman who tells the story of how the carnal and innate nature took hold of a man who wore a naked ring upon his finger, a ring of promises, and a woman who wore a half halo above her head. For this halo is now whole as she dreamed it to be. She offers Mr. Columbus just a portion of her existence as a gratitude for discovering the wavering foundation her heart was embedded and for returning it whole again. His name, Columbus, the discoverer of an already discovered territory. His name will be written in the archives of all that is good and pure in her life. For a Friend he forever will be.

This is not a story of the great painter, But of the painter and her world. The triangle of bliss and of detriment. Allow me to paint on your heart of canvas as my brush strokes the minds of curious bystanders, the picture portrayed through hues, shades and colors. First shade is his name, the black man she adorned herself with, the one she bled tears and love to be with. The one who wore the transparent ring upon his finger and through time made evident his loyalty to it while still being disloyal to her heart. Had I not painted that my character and her lover were alike in worlds……INSEPARABLE, for her world was now his and his shared between her world and the best man’s? And even now her existence shares the disposition Mr. Shade finds himself in. Through experiences only, can the human mind fathom the unfathomable choices we sometimes make. She paints her life in an effort to only resonate with her own understanding of herself. A WOMAN she is, "torn between her passions and moral ideals, who enjoys loving the difficulty that presents itself" in the characters I have here manifested. My character now sympathizes and understands Mr. Shade’s triangle, one that he is bound to and one his soul lusts after. But this is not a painting of the shades, for time has gradually elapsed the bond and attachments she once had with this soul….she still loves, but only for satisfaction in the stallion and his conquest. Her heart now palpitate another song. Her heart is still partly his and part of his heart for another man alike is now partly her heartbeat……Their hearts are still whole…… Half her heart belongs to him and half of his heart for his confidant is now her heartbeat…two halves make a whole. I wish to keep this painting as abstract as it can be, for in the deepest strokes of this brush and the weaving of my canvas lies a hidden truth that can be detrimental to pure love and pure friendships….ruined for the sake of love. Funny how LOVE, in the true meaning of the word can be so fascinating and builds a lifetime of happiness, whilst alternately destroys another’s opportunity of experiencing this love….crumbling his world to a mere birth and death cycle. LOVE can raise a thousand army of passion, purpose in breath, and at the same time put to grave a pair of soul connection in familial and friendly love. Not gay in preference but a love that is gay in trust, trust for one man alike in nature for the consideration of the other and longevity beyond love for one woman and beyond hardship. Just as the lover, the poet and now the painter that I have presented u had shared this guilt of hurting another woman, only indirectly.

Oh how her heart aches and bleeds red when she dips into the vase of truth to paint only what her hands and her heart allows. It bleeds red though her hand wishes to part the tides of principles from the overflow of selfishness. Principles outlined by society that one should not love more than once, and selfishness in that just as Mr. shade wishes to keep his world a darkened secret to forever share with his lover, now does the lover…me…..I….share this fantasy…but no longer for him. And Mr. Shade justifies by his most colorful yet deceitful poetic truth……“Funny how the world turns”…for some reason I really like that phrase. There should be unbreakable rules to this love game…laws that are inviolate – like the law that governs gravity for example. What goes up must come down...it can’t just float about”. The painter……The lover……The poet and I…… all stand on the firm truth that Mr. shade, the beautiful cheat has so beautifully expressed that if life hadn’t dished out in such abundance the irrevocable experiences and words uttered, that maybe we wouldn’t have gone through if this were the case, if the actual rule that existed said: “one cannot love more than once”…but now she shares this guilty bliss. It is possible to love more than once and possibly at the same time, for to her, love has gone knocking on his neighbor’s door……The one closest to his heart. And if he rejects the offer she once again presents to him, of having her entire being become his territory to forever abide…then shall she search another occupant…..one much more willing and deserving to abide in her abode.

I now paint my last word……the words that should remain unprinted and so I will paint it in all colors of the spectrum…for in these colors are emotions that lies skin deep and beyond all that meets the eyes. Her heart still refuses to let him go while she still satisfies her body….still being loyal to him……she simultaneously offers her thoughts and a portion of her existence to the Mr. Hue, the lighter one in the wheel of colors. And as much as the difference lies in their color…their souls differ in the magnitude of appreciation they offer her. For only by names do they differ. Columbus has found her heart and could possibly take sanctuary there, but Mr. Shade’s name is still printed on it.

“To me you’re a songbird, precious, with a song inside you that not even you can fully express…just continue to shine as you do, and give the love that’s waiting for you the chance to fulfill itself”…If only this love had been of a different time……For she still loves him, though she tries not to.

GERI

Ok its odd that i chose to name this one Geri after never interacting with him before his death. But his death sparked a lot of awareness in many of my friends life.

All i can say is this:
my god...life is soo fascinating yet complex.....we spend days planning and preparing for a future that might or might not belong to us, because one day we may be unexpectedly pardoned from it. And though we may not know it, we make life irrelevant when we deny ourselves the opportunity to fully enjoy it by putting ourselves in the way of disaster and death.

Don't test death, because one day the test will be over. Simply put, don't put yourself in the way of danger. This is unexpected from me, being that I am a woman who enjoys the risks in life and feather myself after each success, but one day, I know it will catch up to us. I bathe myself in this victory and chain myself from death....Remember man is like dust, we are here one day and gone 2maro, never quite understanding how life could turn so dramatically.

Its like acquiring money....We work 8 hours, 5 days a week to earn some money..and before you know it, its gone in less time u take to earn it. Life is pretty much like that, we invest our emotions, or time, our life, our laughter, our mourning, our sorrow and our love in a soul that we treasure so dearly...One we consider a friend....snatched from the very gift of life, snatched from the people who loved him unconditionally, not favouritism, but unfavourable, unconditional love. I am sure this is the love many of you shared for Geri or any one you've lost who is so dear to you.

I tell ppl all the time, prepare today for 2maro yes....but enjoy to the max the days u do live, and don't wait to live life for the hope of 2maro. LIVE IT NOW. Its like saving for future investment that may never manifest. I know that Geri might have already during the short course of his life and most recently planned for the summer, ATI, graduation etc.

Enjoy and love the people in ur life and be kind to the ones u don't know, u might be that string of hope in another persons life. And live a life to be remembered, whilst u r still living and even after ur departure so that not only ur name but also ur existence may be worth more than the mere resounding of ur name. MARK UR LIFE AS A PATH TO BE FOLLOWED AND NOT TORTURED....leave a legacy.

TE NECESITO EN MI VIDA

lento... No, no lento pero no existiendo, eso es tiempo cuando estoy alrededor de usted El ritmo de la paliza del corazón... lento a un mero arrastra. El aliento falla de salir mi cuerpo y la sangre en venas congeladas. Cuándo yo estoy con usted mi cuerpo refleja lo que mi alma se siente. Mi alma sólo deseo para estar con usted, para que que podemos hacer el la mayor parte de nuestro tiempo juntos. Así que mi cuerpo lento tiempo de aceptar los deseos de mi alma.

Nada es mas guapo y hermoso como usted.
Besos Besos

COURAGE TO LOVE

FROM A SOUL SISTA TO ANOTHER...A FREN ADVISING ANOTHER FREN...SOUND LIKE SOAP OPRA FOR TRUE.

Love can be so exciting and then again so amusingly dreadfull. Two people inlove, it sounds like that none of you two wants to give up with this "relationship". Each one for his/her personal reasons, of course. You are deeply in love with him and he is confused and selfish, like the 90% of the men. Obviously this doesn't mean that he is not in love with you. Conversely he loves you but, as I see it, he is one of those people who are terribly scared of falling in love. Generally this type of people prefer staying in a quiet, safe affection-relationship, feeling they have everything under control rather than putting themeselves into a troubleful whirlpool of love and passion. YOU MUST HAVE A BRAVEHEART TO LOVE. And you must be capable of mastering the situation because when you are in love you have no defences. You are vulnerable like a baby.
You will learn that most of the men are not bravehearted at all, even though they are taught to carry a rifle...
Anyway I don't mean that he's not bravehearted at all, but in this occasion he seems more to belong to the category "not equipped" than to the other minority of "full equipped".

Well, I stop writing now because it has just come to my mind one of my grandgrammy's famous statements, that was: " you'll never really learn it until you live it ". So, live it and leave it, Theresa! you are walking your path and this is only a stage, believe me.

Much love sista

STORY ABOUT COURAGE

My dada told me this one one day to encourage me..

There were three men on a journey to a treasure...wen they reached they saw from a distance 2 big lions 
guarding the treasure....one man backed away and turned back becuz he feared...the second went half way and 
turned back after the lions roar

the third man was persistent in gettin the treasure that he went with courage and wen he reached the treasure, he saw that the 2 lions were chained and could not move...he took without any obtacle in his way.

yeah...its the same with God...we must have the courage to endure through any obstacle in our way, because the treasure god promised us is there and waiting, our own blessings...we jus need to take courage and never fear.