Miss. Nothing

Published on April 25, 2015April 25, 2015 by Tosha Michelle4 Comments

1. Real beauty- the kind you find in museums and great literature- is eternal. True beauty comes from the soul and touches the spirit. Note to all the jerks out there- it’s not about cup size or the shape of the thighs. It’s about the condition of the heart and the state of the mind.

2.Pet peeve- Fickle people who are only interested in the next best thing. Human beings are not expendable. Sincerity and genuine affection carry much more weight than false flattery. I don’t understand having an ADD-like mindset when it comes to friendship. End rant. Cue silliness.

3. Do people who use the expression “cray cray” know how “stew stew” they sound? (ugh)

4. What’s up with the smiles, Pepperidge Farm’s Goldfish? We are so going to eat you! Cue philosophical thought

5. Don’t wait on people to love you. Lead the way. Be a compass of kindness and compassion.

7. The authentic you is beautiful. If you want to impress, be yourself. Trust me, “realness” is a precious commodity. I strive to always be genuine (at times, to my detriment)

8. Speak your truth. Love without conditions. Live without limitations. Count your blessings. Life is fleeting.

9. If you can’t be polite, kindly keep you mouth shut. Manners matter.

10. On Monday, I get to speak to one of my favorite intellectuals- Author and Philosopher -Professor, Mark Kingwell The nerd in me can’t wait.. He doesn’t have a pretentious bone in his body. Mark a true delight to listen to. It’s going to be a fun and illuminating hour. (stoked)

Tune in here:

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/laliteraticarpelibrum/2015/04/27/the-return-of-philosopher-and-author-mark-kingwell

Miss. Nothing.

Final Thoughts:

The mark of a true rebel (to me) is a person who fights against apathy, who embraces their humanity and looks beyond the surface. It easy to be mean spirited, selfish, materialistic, and shallow. It takes heart and tenacity to embrace traits like honesty, integrity, compassion, kindness, and loyalty.

It’s not about taking the moral high ground. No one is better than anyone else. We don’t all have to believe a certain way or be a certain way. But it sure would be nice if everyone could embrace love, forget about hate, and learn to live in harmony. Hey, a girl can dream. By the way, my rebel wears a suit, smells like Dior, and is handy with a wrench, a pen, and frying pan.

Anyway, gather round, children. Let’s all hold hands and sing a rousing rendition of Kumbayah.

Orange Blossom Morning.

Published on April 24, 2015April 24, 2015 by Tosha Michelle8 Comments

She left on an orange blossom morning.

with a suitcase full of forget me nots

and a map of the stars.

trotting down an uncharted path.

Singing a tune.

she misplaced long ago.

Taken the bridge out of Eden.

over a river of forgotten dreams.

Seeking solace and shade

under a willow tree.

melting into spring green and new beginnings.

Reflections Of My Life

Published on April 23, 2015April 23, 2015 by Tosha Michelle9 Comments

Artwork by Tosha Michelle

“You can’t stop the future. You can’t rewind the past The only way to learn the secret …is to press play.”

“If people refuse to look at you in a new light and they can only see you for what you were, only see you for the mistakes you’ve made, if they don’t realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.”
― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large — I contain multitudes.”
― Walt Whitman

Change is an organic thing that that happens every minute, every day, and everywhere. We as people are not meant to stay static. We may grow up but we should never stop maturing and expanding our hearts and minds. We shouldn’t be held captive by the past or how people perceive us. We create and radiate our own unique way of being.

In some ways we are always changing but yet staying the same. When I look back at the me from yesteryear, I still see the same quirky, awkward, random, sentimental girl. I also see a woman who has a wealth of experience, who has endured illness, heartache and loss, but also experienced wonderful life-altering adventures. My journey has taken me out of my comfort zone and into a world of growth and enlightenment. It doesn’t hurt that I have been blessed with the love and unwavering support of family and friends. These people teach me so much every day.

I still process information the same way, but experience has altered the way I interpret that information. Every day reveals a new layer of character. The years are teaching me and molding me into a better version of myself. I embrace getting older and look forward to one day being a, “wise old soul.” Emerson said “As we grow old the beauty steals inward.” What a beautiful sentiment.

A work in process is what I will always be. I’m still evolving. I hope that never changes, even as I change. However, I know what I stand for and who I am. Uncertainty has no place in my inner world. It’s a gift where decisions become easier, temptations become less, and confidence grows stronger.

Only Words.

Published on April 22, 2015April 22, 2015 by Tosha Michelle8 Comments

Only Words.
by Tosha Michelle

What does it mean to be a poet?
I spend so much time with paper and pen.
Rehashing what was.
Regurgitating what could have been
Lost in my mind’s madness.
Moving like the speed of light.
Trying to catch some long gone comet in the sky.
My words hit or miss.
What am I trying to convey?
I’m stuck in creative recession.
Maybe, I’m just a fool.
Drowning in syntax and emotions.

I Loved Him

Published on April 21, 2015April 21, 2015 by Tosha Michelle6 Comments

I Loved Him.
by Tosha Michelle

I loved him once.
the boy with summer in his eyes.
I wanted to offer him the luster of asbestos
to stroke the flames of an autumn fire.
Instead I watched him fall.
into a bed of thorns.
Sharpen and ready.
waiting for the unwise.
He lay before me.
bleeding poison.
adorned in the pains and wounds
of a love untouched
a rosebud erased.

Tangled

Published on April 20, 2015April 20, 2015 by Tosha Michelle7 Comments

Cover me in your mesmerizing verse.

You words kiss my skin.

I’m lost in lyrical bliss.

Intoxicated by your rhyme.

Pulsating with your rhythm.

Recite your ballad between the chords of my legs.

Your anointed tongue

licks the core of my soul.

Stroking and coaxing my emotions.

Tangled up in the wildness of poetic expression.

I come undone.

-Tosha Michelle

Tea Time.

Published on April 17, 2015 by Tosha Michelle8 Comments

The kettle of my mind.

Boils over and spills on the pages.

Words saturate.

Evaporating regret.

Burning away fear

Creative impulses take over.

Absorbing my muse in every line.

-Tosha Michelle

Reminiscence Notes

Published on April 8, 2015April 20, 2015 by Tosha MichelleLeave a comment

“how sad and bad and mad it was – but then, how it was sweet”
― Robert Browning

Nostalgia echoes

Chattering for the past.

I try to grasp the reminiscence notes.

The melody is bittersweet.

I dance with memories in my hallucinating solitude.

My scars are bare. A testament to what once was.

What could have been scratches and picks at them.

Bleeding for the remains of love, buried in a transcendent alcove.

The devils hide there taunting the mind.

Only satiate when I drown in grief

and choke on the ashes of yesterday.

-Tosha Michelle

Beautiful Disaster

Published on April 2, 2015April 2, 2015 by Tosha Michelle4 Comments

He hides his coldness behind a mask of charm.
His true intentions only to disarm.
Lies escape his lips
That never tell.
He plays the game so well.
He is an obsession
A handsome vision
With one glance you’ll be smitten.
He’ll wrap you up tight in his contradictions.
Fanning the flames
Of your incineration.

Poem, music and artwork by Tosha Michelle

It’s my kind of town…

Published on March 28, 2015 by Tosha Michelle3 Comments

Chicago

BY CARL SANDBURG

Hog Butcher for the World,

Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,

Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler;

Stormy, husky, brawling,

City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.

Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,

Bareheaded,

Shoveling,

Wrecking,

Planning,

Building, breaking, rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people,

Laughing!

Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.