There, their, they're...

Its a beautiful thing,
black love
Because they're love
They connected their souls
The god body within,
created perfection
in the image of their love.
Yet in the eyes of their love
there was/is pain,
there are/were regrets,
there were/are obstacles,
and theirs is full of trials,
to their triumphs,
there were times of joys,
Days where their elaborate patterns of speech and dance,
Had them lost in the turns, tricks & dips
of their loves dance
there was a seduction,
in their love
there was/is a solace,
a peace
an at home feeling in their love cause
there love is home
even in their divided homes,
there is celebration,
there is gratitude,
there is a shoulder to lean on,
until there isn't a leg to stand on and
All that comes out is the anger
in their words ,
there is fury.
And sometimes there are blows,
to pride,
to hearts,
to egos
To mines
and to faces
from hands that once held that face to their face and softly whispered "I love you"
and they did,
even when they loved rough,
Their love was intense
cause their love is/was/is tough,
to be in
When there comes a point
where their love is not enough
or
their love becomes just too much
for their love to handle.
-j sans chez
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Writers Block

i used to be afraid to write

in fear you would read my thoughts 

demanding explanation 

seeking answers to questions i can't answer anymore

but i realized that 

following that fear only paralyses my talents

constricts my need for expression 

punches holes in my soul 

and i refuse to be that helpless

at your hands,

never again

so keep on reading

love me till you hate me until you love me again

remain my loyal, standing ovation, number 1 fan

even if there is only one of you

my potential exceeds your demands

and

until you hold lit candles in your hands

in my remembrance

i will... nay i must 

dance as if no one is looking

sing as if you can't hear my off pitch tendencies

and write whatever the f*ck is inside of me

until my dying day.

-peace-

Dreams in Vanilla Skies

I used to want to be a white girl
On my knees at night,
praying for god to make my skin match my mom's high yellow complection
at the very least,
I was tired of being the familys black sheep,
something like a beast by crushes/in the school yard
girls making fun of me,
confused as to how and why my ass was so stuck out.
I once sang whitney houston's I will always love you to a boy I liked,
and despite
the silky smooth melodic tones relaying my affection,
he wouuldn't even glance in my direction,
it was then
That I decided at 10,
I needed to be a white girl.
So I too could be like the california dream girl next door,
not the oreo kunta kente in a mask with skin of mahogany or ebony
depending on the month.
subjected myself to torturous tactics overcoming curly-kinky hair transitions to smoothed out mane.
Spend the day shaking it like Beyonce
it didn't help to be well educated when no one listened to you speak,
muffling your presence with their snickers & laughter,
back then it was approval I was after, because no one ever told me I was beautiful.
dads foot had been on the gas since age 2,
and mama taught me to become a lady i'd have to straighten up and walk right.
But when you're a kid and don't know what you did wrong
its hard to hold your head up high.
Except to look towards the sky and ask god why
he didn't make me a white girl.
With perfect hair thats down to there, that doesn't snap a combs teeth.
why my waist.is a size 2 but hips are a size 6.
Why I am the fantasy but not the.reality of my love interests.
Why was i cursed like this?
It would take 8 years,
6 lovers,
4 years of sports &
2 eating
disorders
To find the answer in the arms of a love that reflected my insecurities as perfection
assured me that there is nothing wrong with a curve to your backside,
A sway to your hips,
kink in your hair
and plump to your lips.
And I been in love with my body ever since
Needless to say
I no longer pray to be a white.girl Because.when I  think about.it, having it naturally is better than becomming a science experiment.

Love & Light,
Joi Sanchez
visual & performance artist
www.jsanschez.wordpress.com