“I got a new life, you would hardly recognize me”

The last post was a bit heavy. Something lighter for a Friday. Blouse by Zara. I should buy stock, their clothes males up half my closet these days. Lipstick by Urban Decay. Giving red lips a try, and back to a darker shade of blonde. 

And

Have a wonderful weekend. In museum and antique shopping  mode here.with my ride or die (as the kids say) And that’s the tea, sis. Haha! Will also be working on my latest poetry book. It should be out this summer. I would like to donor any profits made to the National Center fot Missing and Exploited Children. 

And now a song of the day.

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign/  Life is demanding without understanding/ I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign/  No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong.”

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Going Ons

Indeed…

Feeling blousey

This and that.

1. My eye corection surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday. Excited but not looking forward to being put to sleep. Wish me luck. The recovery time is pretty short. Glad for that. The surgery will correct the alignment of my left eye and hopefully, improve my peripheral vision. I have full confidence in my doctor. His name is Benjamin Krammer.. I highly recommend him.

2. When I originally started my blog, it was a place to write about life’s little oddities, post book reviews and ny random musings. Recently, I think it has reverted back to that concept with poetry thrown into the mix. The blog at one point had metamorphosis into strictly a poetry spot. There was a time when I wrote constantly. I was going through a tough time and writing was my therapy.

Nowadays, life is more stable and I’m in a healthier state of mind . It’s also a much busier time. I find myself writing less, but the muse is still there. It’s just learning to write from a place of stability . I suppose I could hone in on unresolved hurt feelings, and painful events, but I choose not too. I choose to focus on the positive and all the blessings in my world. 

Everything that has happened to me has placed me where I am suppose to be. I’ve always tried to put love out there, and I feel like karma is acknowledging that. Things are finally going really well after a few years of chaos.. I’m grateful for what was and the growth it has brought me. No regrets. I’m stronger and better for it all. I’m also aware, given how anxious and sentimental I can be that there will still be times of angst and disquieting moments. That is the human condition when one feels things on a deeply emotional level. However, I’m more equipped to handle those setbacks now. I’m living for what is. Turns out what is is pretty lovely.  

3. I also find myself spending much less time on social media. It’s odd given that I used to be such an enthusiast. I really enjoyed posting and connecting with new people. These days I’m just happy to connect with those who already know and love me. Most of my online time is devoted to criminal justice pursuits, as well as less noble causes like Amazon browsing and watching various Youtubers. 

4. We will be traveling to the Outer Banks in April . For those of you who have been, any suggestions on must see attractions? I’m hoping to see some wild horses running along the beach. 

5. Lastly, thanks so much for sticking with me through my many moods and blog stages. WordPress definitely attracts creative and  kind people. I’m happy to interact with you all.

-Tosha

PS. For those of you who are strictly here for the poetry, my friend Misty and I will be releasing a poetry book later this year.
Details coming soon. 💕

PPS. I watched a documentary on Netflix last night called  Tricky Dick and the Man in Black. It chronicled the relationship between Johnny Cash and Richard Nixon. Johnny showed Nixon that he was nobody’s fool. The documentary put me in a Cash state of mind. His cover of “Hurt” gets me every time. 

High Praises

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Oh Goddess of rejections,
insecurities, sleepless
nights, and the sink
that always seems to leak.

Oh Goddess of loneliness,
depression, evenings spent
looking for hope in the
foggy light of isolation.

Oh Goddess of endless
chores, mundane errands,
always lurking around,
watching me toil and spin.

Goddess of painful memories
collected in a heart jar.
Unfulfilled dreams and desires.
The oil slick of wasted time.

I love you for forcing me to feel;
As I stand here holding onto
the railing of my sanity.

I thank you for the hands
wrapped around my neck.

For each tussle with the sun,
that always hides behind
a cloud of chaos.

At least I’m still here, kicking,
and dodging, the shadow crop of
my mind. I know how to make fire,
while others still struggle with flint.

For you it was never about high praises.
You live for the forlorn.
You know the insincerity of the thorn bush.

I praise you for the shattered,
the weeds, the bee stings, the
thunder clouds, every skinned knee,
wilted flowers, the dove that
refuses to eat from my hand.

Oh Goddess of imperfection,
You know that despair is the beauty
life and poetry are made of.

Thank you for teaching me this.
My tears and words sing back
a hallelujah for the pain.

-Tosha Michelle

Nothing to Lose

If there’s one thing I love almost as much as poetry it’s dresses. Today  I give you my fashion sense and a song.  New poem coming soon. 💕 Happy Sunday y xx


And one of my favorite songs

“Come on, and we’ll sing, like we were free
Push the pedal down, watch the world around fly by us
Come on, and we’ll try, one last time
I’m off of the floor one more time to find you’

What Do You Hear?

Hello lovely ones. Happy Sunday. This blog post is a mix of of beauty, fashion and poetry. Please excuse the no makeup, hair in a messy bun look in the video 

Sometimes when low dark clouds hang above a
mind that is usually crystal
When lucid thoughts
become cluttered with
distorted perceptions.
When negative voices
linger in the darken chamber
speaking in disorder tones.
It’s hard not to become
brittle and break.

But if we can silences those
naysayers for just a moment
Maybe we can hear the sweet
cadence of a call note
reminding us of life’s affirmations and blessed beatitudes.
Maybe we can release ourselves
from desperation and self doubt. As hope’s
breathless alert finally resounds.

-Tosha Michelle

Laying the Blues Down

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I’m tired of dragging my
hurts round like a stick
along jail cell bars.

And my tune always broken,
and the warden always asking
for some change.

Let me lie down on a cot,
or in the middle of the floor
and scatter my grievances
and self abuse all around.

And wait for another inmate
with a bottle of whiskey
and harmonica, who knows
how to play the blues, to
come and sit down beside me

And we’ll harmonize our angst
like pressing a finger to a bleeding wound.

And our hearts may be broken organs,
but we’ll pluck a banjo from it’s strings.

And we’ll sing until the night
opens for us like a door.

And let our song carry us as
far as the sky will go or, at least
to Chicago or St. Louis.

There we’ll swallow snowmelt, and
take our self doubt underground.

Finally laying those
melancholy blues down.

-Tosha Michelle

Besot with Fire.

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I don’t want a dehydrated love
that lives somewhere between
purgatory and just good enough.

I’d rather bust my knee on the sidewalk,
bruise my arm and cheek on the wall,
crash my bike on a rocky path, crack my
wrist for a love full of oxygen caught fire.

Turning blue to red. Scarlett Crimson.
I don’t want to be rescued from the flames.
I want to be wrapped in them

Let’s lose the word complacent,
and replace it with passion.

Trust that a love full of imperfections
is more interesting than one
full of perfect nothingness.

Let’s get pleasantly disoriented
on a bed of salacious.

Where everything we need
is a finger trail away.

Let’s follow the glint of rosebuds
and not be afraid to step on the
thorns.

Let’s create a love of different rooms
we can waltz into.

Now a lover.
Now a friend.
Now a sexy stranger.

Nothing predictable, no room
for maybes.

I want a love full of poetry,
but nothing conventional

I want crude statements.
Expletives, obscenity.
Possessive pronouns.
Imperative verbs.

A lexicon of love and sex.
A love that’s not offended by
the Fword -foreplay
and likes to fucking fuck.

No! I don’t want a dehydrated love
I want a love that is fully
saturated.

I don’t mind drudgery but lace it
with swoon, with heat.

I believe in the power of endurance and faith,
but let’s pepper it with decadence and sin.

I don’t want us to look back
and realize how sane we were
for each other.

I want to reflect back on
a crazy love that took us and
the moon down.

One that resides somewhere
between soulful conversation and
a wet dream.

-Tosha Michelle