Leaving behind...

Im leaving you with all the shit I no longer want, nor do I need.

My pigtails and mini skirts that no longer suit me.

Those childhood games I used to play like hopscotch, tetherball and hide go-get-it.

I gots mine, proud as I please; no longer needing to pass notes, do you like me: yes, no or maybe.

So I set you in a box along with my diary, the one that holds all my secret crushes, my first kiss the first time I let Jason get to first base on me before I smacked his hand and ran back to the other girls at recess. Those memories, my Barbies, the old cabbage patch dolls that seemed to get lighter as the years went by. Yes, you sit in a box next to those old things that no longer benefit nor define me.

My Paula Abdul double tongues, overalls turned back, cross colors, leg warmers, tutu, and toe shoes. All packed up in a box of shit I don’t need any more.

And there you sit with your tired excuses, your baby please, baby, your soft kisses and warm touches. Your secret letters and even more secret crushes, I no longer get weak in the knees for those things, nor your smile or your breath on the back of my neck.

That’s long since been put away with my want for big pickles, a blow pop, now A’laters, chick’o sticks, lemon heads, cherry clans and Boston baked beans.

I miss your kisses no more than I miss getting detention or a call home from school. Thoughts of your touches linger no more than my first skinned knee, or getting a black eye in baseball. Our time alone has been replaced with thought of being more powerful with out you.

Dropping all those pounds you’ve suggested over the years.

I put you in that box of shit I no longer need, ready to be picked up and eliminated from my life and as I look back at all those things that made me the woman I am.

I take from the box my mini skirt and those silly games I used to play, ill send a text to a guy with a nice smile and pretty face, do you like me. I’ll keep my diary and my memories, my Barbies and Cabbage Patch Dolls, those double tongues fit yet a bit snug overalls, cross colors, leg warmers, tutus and toe shoes. I’ll suck on a lemon head a now a’later, I’ll even crave for a big pickle and blow pop, those cadies that made my life sweet.

And I leave in the box the shit I no longer need.

Check out my new blog site as well...

two different places with two different meanings

iranturave.wordpress.com

do be warned that sites a tad risque

Enjoy...

live love and lust

besitos

IRUR

Things Happen in Threes

They say things happen in 3s
March- Tuskegee Airman, William B. Ellis
June- Awesome {God Fearing} Man, Robert Tolan
and this August
Nana, Christine Green, Her favorite color was blue, she LOVED to bowl and she was excited to celebrate 90th Birthday this year...

she is the 3rd in my chain of extended family who made my life GREAT, you will all be missed...

LOVE YOU ALL!!!

THANK YOU

So you have to forgive the fact that, I'm slow on some of the comment replies its been a great summer and hell of a year. I'd like to encourage you all to visit, iranturave.wordpress.com great post there... I will try to post some new poetry here. I love your words of encouragement anf the fact that I inspire your reactivity... I appreciate the love.... check out the new page layout...

New Blog Spot

Hey I love your support... so follow my european adventures

http://iranturave.wordpress.com

William B. Ellis dies at 94; helped break racial barriers as one of the Tuskegee Airmen - latimes.com

William B. Ellis dies at 94; helped break racial barriers as one of the Tuskegee Airmen - latimes.com

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Ode to the Worst

March 7, 2010

An Ode to the Worst

The worst I ever had/ like a gun with no bang/ Fourth of July with no fireworks/ you’re minus the snap crackle and the pop/ A flat soda no fizz/ a flame with no spark/ A blow pop without the gum/ a tootsie roll that never gets to the center/ You're a paddle with no stroke/ a motor boat with no gas/ In the end you’re an everlasting gobstopper that doesn't last/ You’re a parade with one float/ a balloon with no pop/ for all of the best there are surly some worst/ you’re the worst I’ve ever had/
You’re a dried up lake/ a sunken ship/ a flower that never bloomed/ you’re an un-built house/ a house that never became a home/
You’re a snow slope with no snow/ you’re a Benz sitting on bricks/ you’re a piano with no keys/ you’re a limited cell phone plan/
Surely you must understand you’re the worst I’ve ever had/
You’re a baseball game with no home runs/ a football game with no touch downs/ a basketball game with no slam dunk/ a hockey game no goals/ you’re the losing team/ a defeated player/ you’re the man down/ the lost battle/worse the lost war/
You’re a HOT ASS MESS/
I must confess you’re the worst I’ve ever had/
You’re a Batman with no Robin/ A Super man less the Super/ you’re the Green Lantern with a burnt out bulb/ the Incredible Hulk without much incredibility/
You are the underdog/ you’re Wiley Coyote in every episode/ you’re the Elmer Fudd of life/ you’re Pinky without the Brain
You’re the best of the worst/ ahead as the last/ you’re #1 if we start from the end/ you’re bringing up the rear/ face it you’re just an ass/
You’re a King none the less/ with no Kingdom/ no Crown and no Glory/
You truly are the worst I’ve ever had!

Kinda Guy

He was a B-Ball guy

A six foot tall guy

A player type guy

A well, alright guy

The kinda guy

who had me climbing the walls, guy

He was a fall guy, for the right guy

A one night stand guy,

a kiss don’t tell guy

A someone else’s guy, kinda guy

Who had me crying all night guy

A pick yourself up,

there will be other guys, kinda guy

He was a nice guy

A damn fine guy

A better than ok guy

A kiss tell all your friends kinda guy

A smile at the thought of him kinda guy

A sit on his face, kinda, um yeah guy

A what the hell, messing with your friend,

kinda, kick theirs asses kinda,

stab her kinda, kill him kinda,

in my damn bed, kinda guy

A never get over this kinda guy

He was the rebound guy

A good boy kinda guy

A sweet heart of a guy

A mama’s boy guy

A hold hands in the park,

sweet kisses in the dark kinda guy

A make out guy

An ask permission ‘for he feels you up,

kinda guy

An, I need more kinda guy

But this one he was a passionate

kinda guy

The lover guy

The public displays of affections

kinda guy

The deep long kisses kinda guy

The make love standing in the shower

kinda guy

The hold and cuddle kinda guy

The make him the one kinda guy

The can’t commit kinda guy

The one who leaves

in the middle of the night kinda guy

The lost without his love kinda guy

Now the right kinda guy

Sorta sweet, kinda, bad type of guy

The take care if you right, kinda guy

The displays his affections kinda guy

The show you off kinda guy

Meet his mom kinda guy

Hold your hand, held me tight,

make love all night,

kinda, relax in his arms,

release my tensions kinda guy

He’s a make you smile

throughout the day,

kinda guy

Fall in to his warmth,

wrap his arms around your waist,

kiss the nap of your neck,

smell the scent of your hair,

draw circles on your inner thigh,

whisper in your ear,

smile at the sight of you,

listen intensely to what you have to say,

kinda, wow what a man, no surprises,

he’s all mine kinda guy

i need to be thankful for

my 2 legs/ wrapped in nylons, fishnets/ pattern designs/ crocheted stockings that accentuate the thickness of my big legs and soft smooth thighs/ that can glide across a room on feet wrapped in stilettos/ dancing to a beat caused by the friction and heat hidden in-between my limbs/ moves to music u can't hear but sweeps you off your feet.

2 arms/that embrace you and hold you through the night/ that long to be entangled within you/ fighting to never be let go/ wanting to just let u know they believe and trust in you

10 fingers/ manicured and kept right, that scratch lines into your back wee into the morning and late/ late at night/ these fingers that desire to be sucked and kissed that want to be intwined in yours/ and wait/ itch for you to wrap them/ it in a jewel

10 toes/ that flirt with the earth/ play in the grass/ splash through the ocean/ aint afraid to kick ass/ these toes are in themselves a pedicured jewel/ they long to be dressed in shoes that cater to my calves/ elongate my legs/ and show off my ass

my beautiful smile/that is often a magnet on its on/ its contagious like my laugh/ that is often a burst of sun light on a darkened day/ the way my lips bend my tongue curls/ parted slightly/ puckered slowly/ urning to be kissed by your full lips/ leaves me smiling in my sleeps with thoughts of you

a cute lil nose/ that begs to nuzzle close to you/ get eskimo kisses/ take in the smells of u/ ur must/ your musk/ the scent of your colonge

my eyes that see/ that shine when your present/ that gaze upon you in awe at the man you are/ these eyes see the worlds imperfections but in you see what can be right and good/ accept you for what you are and makes no excuses for what you are yet not/ nor what you will never be

my ears that hear/as you whisper in them/that want to hear the words 'i love u'/as u tell me things real and fantasy as you share secrets and stories/ things you say late at night as we lay side by side/ skin to skin/ the baritone of your voice lulls me to sleep

my mouth that speaks volumes/ that will tell you the sweetest of things/ that will whisper to you mid day of things later to come/ but a voice that speaks out/ shouts/ screams/ yells for understanding equality/ whats right/ what i want from u

a head full of brains/that challenges the man you are/ improves and pushes the man you want to be/ a woman who knows she can do it alone but rather we do it together cuz a business works better with a partner

my womanly touches/ my hips and my ass/ my heart shaped lips/ my breast/ my walk, its switch/ the way when compiled together they create their own heart beat/ their own sound

and the place where my treasures lie/ the place you want to slide and glide into so deep until i cry and moan with sounds of your victory/ the place my orgasm stays silent and hidden until you shake and move her up/ out through my belly/ past my rapid heart/ into my vocal cords/ out strong/ long/ in a whimper/a wail/ a cry/ a moan/ the calling of your name/ a shimmy/ shake/ shiver/ jolt/ where u feast for hours at a time/sucking/ slurping/ enjoying my sweetness/ my nectar/ my juices until i bust with pleasantries

for these things, yes i am thankful/ more so i am blessed

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Damn this Man

April 7, 2007


Damn this man with his rode in his hand, a 5 foot pole, a 62 inch stick; a log, a limb, damn don’t trip. It goes and grows as far as one can look. The massive size, just grab a hold, find a way, get a grip, take a ride wait for the magic trick.
A sight to behold, a love all it’s own, straight up, stacked up, holding strong, getting deep, going long.
Damn that man and his extra hand, touching parts I never knew I had. Feeling my insides, stroking way too deep, finding the parts that make me moan and whine.
Adjusting to his pleasures, measuring his weary stride, holding tight to my real emotions, crying through my heart wanting for more. Needing of nothing. Knowing somehow this is wrong.
Damn this man.

Feb 19, 2007
11:30pm

Like a song sung out long and strong we endure with beautiful high notes and troubled lows.
When we’re in tune we mesh together in a type of rhythmic harmony that makes our beats great, but when were not so in sync its not so good.
Our range is expandable, our genre eclectic, our mood set by the standards we choose.
And when we make music together, it’s inevitable your call to my response. My hip to your hop, I’m sure your rhythm will never cause my blues
But the song we sing has a melody like no other, lyrics only we know, a beat all our own, your heart in tempo with my own.
A song written.
A song complete.
A song sung.

Between us.

Making Love to Myself

July 7, 2005

I decided to make love to myself, just one night, try it out, see how it would feel. With the lights dim and a few candles lit, I stood bare, naked in front of an image of my own reflection. Their I looked at myself starting with the top of my head and following the strands of hair to my round face, with it blemishes from my teen years and laugh lines that run very deep.
I looked into my eyes with my eyes, and watched as a special part of me danced in the small slants, I batted my lashes and winked at myself, I let my eyes glide over my small round nose, blew kisses with two perky and pouty, lined and glossed lips. Drew lines and made circles where my chin should be but was more pleased at the fact that there was only one and not two, three or more.
I pushed my freshly done hair, back behind my ears and recalled how curly it had once been at one time, when I rocked my natural fro. I relaxed in knowing that like every woman I had a hair story, of loss and renewal. But I loved on tracing my neck that held the secrets to my eczema, which with time and age changed and became easier to maintain. I eyed the marks on my shoulders and saw beauty in them still, shoulders for someone to lean on ,cry on, for a child to one day rest their head on.
I traveled on to my breast once so round and full, they once captured all the attention I was to receive. Now they're not so full, less obtrusive, its different and new, not having something that was such a large part of me for so long, having blossomed in the 3rd grade, now be less of a distraction. Allowing me to find the best parts of me to grab a mans attention, attention that belongs rightfully to me, I hug them and accept them as they are at this moment, I feel across them knowing every ones are different and mine are special no matter how large, small or full or if they stand strait up and out or hang a tad bit low. I continue to make love to myself.
I searched for by belly button not so accessible as most others, but there and just as sexy if your the only one to please or be pleased. I slapped at my thighs, and laughed in delight. I examined, them, their fullness each round curve, enjoyed how smoothly my hands glided over them as my hands slide back and forth over them. I danced on the tips of my toes, and spun around, I saw the backs of my legs and flexed to see the build of my calves, that I attained over the years as a softball catcher.
I loved on my petite feet, with their fresh new pedicure, cute and neat. They wear the hell out of stilettos and can be accentuated by the right dress. But they'd much rather be bare and free dancing on a dew covered grass at a summer jazz festival. I turned my back to myself and looked over my shoulder. I took in years of bad eating habits, poor exercise, and low self esteem, combined with unfavorable genetics. This created less of a desirable silhouette and a shame and guilt I try to let go of even as I love on myself. So I hurriedly move on, letting my bedroom eyes take focus on my backside. Checking myself out from all angles, coming to the conclusion it’s alright, it ain’t as tight as I like, or as round as I want it to be, but with time and hard work maybe I’ll get it as I picture in my head.
But like a great lover I touched and saw, filled my eyes with all my goodness but kept my mouth closed, for fear of having to sleep alone on the couch. Or having to go without hearing an I love you at the end of the night. I embrace myself, stroked at my blemishes and round areas, I smiled and winked at myself. I blow loving kisses at my parts starting from the bottom to the top. I tell me how beautiful I am and finally before it’s through, I prove that I love me no matter what the packaging is, I was made perfectly to be exactly the way I am, and I fell more in love with myself after I made love to myself. And it felt DAMN GOOD!

November 1, 2008

He said I wasn’t worth the wait, and I realized he wasn’t worth the rush
He wasn’t worth taking the steps to get closer to but I took the leap into the shallow end of the pool and got stuck, I fell to my knees hurt and displeased because again I fell short of my own self worth.

Ashamed, scared and hurt, I look down my dark path and see me again hitchhiking loves rode my thumb out to the next passerby rolling up slow and I watch myself making the same mistake as before, entering in on the passenger side and letting someone else guide my life, allowing a him to be my driver

Not picking or choosing how I’m getting to my next destination and he veers me off my chosen course and I sit there in the seat next to him, cheesing like a dummy as he throws insults and hurts at me and drops me off in the dirt and I have to walk back to get the place where I am me again, and again I stick that thumb out there until the next pretty ride drives up slow and he pulls me in with a hello full of bass and a smile I cant erase from my mind.

Eventually the me I love inside myself will save me from myself before I lose myself to another him with bad intentions and thoughts of getting some head on his brain. But again maybe the need to want love and feel love from someone that can hold me and make me feel safe, will again replace the desire for me to take my time and not rush into something with someone who only can throw out one liners and laugh at his own crappy jokes.

Damn his smile, what the hell is up with my thumb

Round Two

March 17, 2008

I followed up Mr. Compassionate and Sensitive, with Mr. Spiritually Connected. He was wonderful, how he glorified the lord and used the bible to subdue me. He honored and respected me, or so I thought.
He never used the traditional ways to woe me. He played the game and mind over mattered me, had me second guessing me, doubting the reality of me, how he played me. This man of god betrayed me and battled the demons in me. Almost got the best of me, and tried to take the rest of me. But he doesn’t understand how God blesses me, how he has a hand in dealing with and trying me. So I left what this man had of me, in the best and worst parts of me, and walked on to the new me, shedding like the snake he is and blooming in my own garden of Eden, my own heaven on earth. And walking into Mr. Honesty.

He Used to Love Me or So I Thought

June 26, 2007
12:55 am

He once told me stories about how I was the one, how I was the warmth he needed to get to sleep at night. I was kept around by the need to be needed with no strings attached or so at least I thought. But the string so happened to be attached to me. I was the puppet played to the word love used up for the purpose of being wanted but not needed. Kept around as a house keeper wanted for the usage of leaning upon for my strength. I was Superman and he my kryptonite and he sucked me dry got my last tear and my final sigh and so he used to love me or so I thought.
I was the person I thought he called last before he went to bed, but then you find his phone rung long after I hung up and she was also there a secret woman with a different warmth in a different kind of place that held him long after I did so where did this love or lack there of leave me. Left standing on the side of a street waiting for the next one with the pocket full of promises to come along. with the promise of happiness and days full of kisses and the thoughts that when I fall asleep at night, the shivers I have will be comforted by him and the warmth provided by him and him alone. And he’d be there no matter what. And so again I go into this half blind and unknowing and a little scared because the one before said the same thing in the same way in the same manner yet when it was all said and done he ran away, far off into the distance with the she with no name just a warm place to keep him though the day.
And so now u come my sir lance- a- lot, prince charming in a broke down chariot and yet I take a leap of faith, I walk out to grab hold to your out stretched hand. I free fall, float on clouds, drift away into your eyes and sail into your arms with the thought that I could be his one, I could be the one to change his life and he could love me or so I thought. Until our clouds turn black and we storm and clash and lighting wakes us up and you realize your fears lead you to someone other than me and I realize your afraid of the dark and again I am left standing alone with the promise of a love so real and true that I can only find it in you, or so I thought.
So where does this cycle lead me how many times must I fall for a different guy with the same line? How do I decipher the men from the wolves? How do I offer the right man the right chance without wasting my time? How will I know the one who really loves me has found me and not just one whom I so thought?
And again a deep voice, some thick lips and a hand full of promises lead me out into the middle of nowhere with no one to look to but him and let him lead and he tells me how he’d be nothing without me, how I’m the one, and God created him for me and me for him and I melt, I accept the fact that I’d never know unless I allow myself to give him a chance and just see, because he could really love me this time or so I thought.

Lust and Hate

3:21pm August 12, 2007

She wailed in ecstasy and to him it sounded like the soprano squeals of a trumpet. So with a smile on his face he continued to glide deeper and deeper until he hit that spot that caused her eyes to tear and for her to claw permanent reminders of that night into his back. But he also did not last. Months from that night the screams from her would not be coming from the pains of pleasure and passion but the simple hurt of love. The noises coming from her would no longer welcome his smile, but call an anger that would later send him raging from her home in a defying silence that would say more to her about the man he wasn’t than if he had fought with her.

And So It Goes

February 14, 2008

I’m to stubborn to give in/
Yet to weak to go on/
And so it goes/

My heart cant take being right, but feeling so wrong/
I cant see the light through this darkness/ An end to my grief/
And so it goes/

This life I am living though typical is causing me pure madness/ a great disdain/ an incurable sadness/
And so it goes/

How is my need, my desire to be loved becoming my life’s struggle/
I find in you beauty and love so strong/
Yet you see only in me a challenge a love untapped your reason to carry on/
And so it goes/

I cant understand how you want me so bad/
Yet have no thoughts of being my man/
And so it goes/

Just the thought of me alone make you want to burst/
But loving me is never thought of first/
And so it goes/

The idea of love is last on your mind/ first in my heart, yet we can’t compromise/
And so it goes/

A need to be loved/ Not a need for your lust/ not just about who I want but about who I trust/
And so I go on/

A self worth that no man can demean/ building self- esteem/
I forge on to the next this is my life’s test/ so it goes/

I walk alone loving myself until he comes and shows me the love I so deserve
And so it goes/

Cake vs. Man

Some people may not understand my relationship to cake, they may not get the pleasure or the longing I have to this multifaceted pastry. Some may think it repulsive, mental, off setting. But when you really break it down when you compare the sweet culinary dessert to its counter part, or my counter part the all elusive and indecipherable man, or in this case penis you become renewed with a lust for life that only these things can bring.


See cake never judges, it never puts you down or calculates your worth, it never disrespects you or belittles who you are. It never tells you, your too fat, too thin, too tall, or too ugly to be in its presence. Its accepting and inviting and always loving. Cake only wants to be your friend, your lover. It comes in layers of love and its taste; texture and fillings can cause orgasmic euphoria at times, more than you can say for some of your own best lovers, they can never hit the right spot at the right time. Cake has its on XXX station (the food network) and its king of cake or Ace of Cakes- bring it to us 365 days a year (go cake man). But cakes are often undiscriminating, available to everyone for every major and minor function; birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and just the every day.


Cake can come in portions for you to share or individually wrapped and separately sold. But sometimes cake doesn’t want to be cake, does it then walk out on you and leave you with no phone call, letter or verbal explanation, no. When cake wants to change forms, be different, it becomes its counter part cheesecake. Just as pleasing with its many flavors and desired recipes. And when that’s not good enough for the lactose intolerant, it’s a warm and irresistible fudge brownie, something that can be topped like a cake and eaten fresh, right out the oven.


And when cake wants to celebrate you, be there for you only and make you feel like the special individual you are, it’s a cupcake. A single grace of spongy goodness topped with buttery goodness, piled high.


Not too often does cake disappoint unless its over cooked and dry, made by the wrong hands or a fruit cake. YUK!!


But a man, can he be all this? No, would he try, never? But can he cause that feeling, that longing that I have for cake in him? Can he now become my lemon frosted bundt cake, can he be the desired yellow birthday cake with white frosting? Would he mind being an individually wrapped midnight snack cake that rewards the senses and awakens the sluggish mind, enticing you with every morsel, causing you to abandon your manners and lick every bit of frosting from your finger tips? Could he be the last bit that you lick from the corners of your mouth with a satisfied smile on your face, is man great enough to be my cake?


DAMN I need some cake- bad!!!
*so if you still don’t get it, or maybe your just not trying understand, replace cake with chocolate, pancakes, chicken soup- or anything you’d be so willing to over indulge in that if you found the one you’d give it up, just to replace them as your “cake”. Happy Eating’s.