HAPPPPPPPPPPPY FRIDAY EVERYONE!!

Another week gone by with summer almost over :( sniff* sniff* didn't even get to surf, just kidding, lol, Delaleu don't surf, heck I need to take swimming lessons in case Brooklyn gets invaded by a tsunami.

So here goes the Gratitude...drumroll please!

1. The day off I had on Monday was well spent by cooking, painting and dancing around the house in my PJ's

2. Having my eyebrows threaded...much better and cheaper than wax plus less painful

3. Yummy spelt scones at Whole Food, have you ever had them? I'm addicted, i'll have to take pictures to show you guys

4. The inspiring boost I got from Aminah Love, Getzapped and Ananda regarding my latest paintings, Aminah described my paintings as Urban with an India Arie style, love it!! Thank you ladies for the vitamin C = Confidence

5. Collabo with my poetic Prince, still gushing reading our creation

6. the flyers are done and ready to be passed out for next month's event, they look sooooooooooo good, thanks to collabo between myself and Aminah, together we are sisters on the rise, love ya!




MY CONFESSION TO BLACK MOSES

Let your spirit filter through my fallopian tubes
Let me scream Jesus on a Sunday
and still shout out Lord have mercy on a Friday
I want to inhale your fetish impulsion
Like discovery in my lungs
Sing your masculinity on the lap of my celibacy

Leave your footprints on my torso
Give me an impromptu shiatsu rub
With the meat of your toes pressed against my spine
Fascinate me
Meticulously
Judiciously
Rain on me without modesty

Black Moses
Look…I’m waiting for you to glance my way
Free me from bondage today
Give me this transfiguration
So I won’t stray
I want to hum your lust on top of Mount Zion
Airgraph your scroll of love like a gospel message in my heart
Then maybe your brothers will notice
Take time to praise the texture of my kinks
And stroll their eyes on this African heritage
Hidden behind the curvature of my lips
Maybe
Maybe
Maybe they will notice my Roots from a mile away
And my Kizzy smile dedicated to you
© 2007 Cathy Delaleu
Painting "In My Own Splendor" by C. Delaleu

Hello Blog family,

One goal on the list is to keep up with my Gratitude once a week, so i've selected Fridays to do so. Here goes:

* My editor whom I met for lunch, going over my writing progress

* For casual days, no heels, no suits, wonderful!

* Miss Aminah Love who doesn't have the faintest clue at how talented she really is. She easily flirts with poetry, nothing but inspiration is felt through her words. Show her some love, please stop by her blog and let her know you've blessed her page.

* Finding focus and guidance at the librairy: 1 hour, 4 books later and i'm able to tell stories and lies between good and evil, feeding the soul of many with powerful words

*Can't have enough of Blick Art Store or Pearl Paint, i'm at these stores at least once a week, buying supplies
This week's purchase:
--Canvas 18x18, 6x6
--Acrylic and oil paints
--2 brushes

* Bold and colorful flyers created for the Tavern of Creativity event next month (9/15), much thanks to Aminah Love. I can't believe Xavier will be here to attend my event, all the way from Florida to sell his book Lover's Anonymous and to spit some erotic verses

Here's a little piece I wrote this morning, based on a true story:

My average rating?
Short hair
Makeup minimal
No heels
No butt-enhanced jeans

When walking the streets I barely get a pause in the predatorial department.

A male friend once told me "What men want is for your ass to squeeze in a size 6 jeans, pull that thin hairline with braids and pretend, just pretend you can tolerate 3-inch heels. That way we can at least see your face."

I decide to follow the rules by pulling my hairline and wearing makeup. It does get me noticed for 1 day. Hell, even Bill Clinton blows up my cell saying he dumped his hoes in Harlem and wants to taste me casually.

I cross the street, a man yells "Beyonce" out of his car. I ignore the paparazzi, but on a crowded train a woman and her son compliments me.
She says, "You look like Beyonce."
I blurt out, "More like a broke-ass Beyonce."
Everyone laughs except me. I'm frustrated. The fact that my braids are tight, ass hurts, eyes and nose itches with makeup. I am in no mood for compliments.

Guys at work leave me their cell numbers on stickies at my desk, marriage proposals are sent via email.

Are you serious? Hair and makeup makes me feel like an American Express, don't leave home without it.

My girlfriends clock me from head to toe, they accuse me of seeking too much attention. Whatever!

At Poetry night I step to the mic, no one believes I'm a poet until I open my mouth and spill out verses like butta. Suddenly, I am ME again.

Right there, I cut off the braids, wipe off the makeup and unbutton the jeans.

I look into their male ego eyes and tell them this is all of ME. Take it or leave it.


A poet yells out in the crowd, "Yo Cathy! that was hot. Do you, baby. Do you."

art "Inner Calm" by Cathy Delaleu

Why do we die in our sleep?
I died once wide awake at the sound of your voice
Awake with your heart on my chest
The earth rumbled
The way you justified your presence
My flesh as your common ground stammered
We became mathematic on chalkboard
Under a coconut tree that flag us a melody
We chased waterfall with our equation
Mentally yoked with an understanding
Accidentally we discovered
The summer’s grin without touch
© 2007 by C. Delaleu
"At Peace with Myself" painting by C. Delaleu


I miss blogging on a regular *sigh* :( it was so easy back then to jot down my thoughts on paper while riding the train to work then type away at my desk.

Life gets hectic and crazy sometimes, don't you agree? Delaleu is at a point where she writes down reminders to herself cause the hours fly and she's running after the minutes, hours and days.

Geeeshhh...slow down...I just got out of bed :) I get annoyed at how quickly the day ends, I wish I could stretch it out a bit. Is there a way to slow it down? Perhaps someone out there knows the secret...no i'm not looking at an easy way to stay young although it would be nice (pills/creams or surgery don't work). I would love to know an easier way to appreciate life a little better without rushing.

I hope my poems offers that kind of relief to other bloggers...this longing to relax with a cup of tea and poetry at your fingertips.

HAPPY FRIDAY everyone...well this week flew by too quickly. I haven't gotten a chance to relax, i've been a busy bee with painting and writing. I'm working on my 2nd poetry book which the goal is to have it published in spring 2008 and i've been keeping busy with my paintings. Tomorrow I head to Harlem to meet with this Haitian artist who owns a gallery. Hopefully, I can convince him to have my work displayed there :) I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer, enjoy while it last.


KINKY ROOTS AND RAPTURE

If my garden is dry it’s because you didn’t finger it
You forgot to take a peek
To fill its soil with honey dust
Forgot to water me with delicate portions
Come back and bring with you the sun
Bring your fruit basket of goodies
The ones you hawk in the marketplace at the crack of dawn
Offer me your sugarcane the one you harvested throughout the year
I will savor the scent of mangos when you rub them on my breasts
And I will glow like the moon with papaya oil on my skin
Cheri, lick the chapters of my wrist where verses are revealed with your name
And the sheet of your tongue can travel down the pages of my palm
Where midnight treasures are kept always ready
To rub you
To knead you
To tap your tired soul into eternal rhythm
And open this silky paint box
Brush on and lick off
Where my body is yours, your caramel Afrodite
Give me reason to slow dance this troubadou
Tete-a-tete in this erotic connection
Where you tango with my tongue
I blossom into a siromiel linguist
English groans when you bite my neck
French moans when you part my lips
In Kreyol when you fill me completely
And make me shudder and cuddle me
Enhancing my bedroom with multicolor layers
Where I’m left in this kama sutra dome
Chosen as your protagonist
Gladly stretching thighs apart to offer you this zaboca already sliced
It is there to eat to your delight
So come here
Cover me with your cornmeal flesh
On your cot we can dream of our motherland
Whispering in my ears your poetic secrets to build me a home
For us to grow old on top of sebaceous mountains
Where our kids will run freely
I’ll look at you again with a thirsty heart
My corosol tears will tell you how much I love you
Rara bands will be out there chanting our folkloric song
© 2007 Cathy Delaleu
Excerpt from my poetry book Wrapping Thoughts Beneath Emotive Rain
Painting by Cathy Delaleu “No Interpretation”