STRANGE FRUIT

I heard the song "strange fruit" by Billie Holiday...Apparently, it
has been written and composed by her as well.
The first time I heard it, all I was focusing on was the melody...Then
I read the comments on youtube and one white girl was apologizing and
damn..I took a look at the lyrics...geezus..the song is about LYNCHING
of blacks in the south way back..
The lyrics are strangely gentle and tough and strange all at the same
time and they do cause you goosebumps
here are the lyrics too
Strange Fruit


Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop

Revisiting a Four year old ghost-poetic rendition 8/16/11 2:20 PM

Copyright(c)2009-2011 Lecinqblog.Please do not reproduce without permission from Author
Four years ago,
I stopped talking to someone.
This past month,
 that ghost was revisited ,
Quite unexpectedly,
Much to the regret of both parties.
And as past patterns unfolded all over again like clockwork,
 much to the chagrin and distress of both parties,
It was a revelation to see,
that just when you thought you have grown up oh so much,
 you realize that,
you haven't after all.
Ghosts,ghosts..
revisited,revisited.



A dynamic,
A habit,
and me and them,
slaves of habits,
The interaction,
repeats itself,
starts eroding all that was healed ,
or what appeared to heal in those four years.



All castles of four years ,
crumble in a minute.,
a month of interaction reveals deep dents all over.



Now i have to go rebuild my own credibility in my own eyes.



All a revelation,all of us slaves of habits.

His vocal cords and My tonsils?10/26/11 8:24 AM

His vocal cords and My tonsils?
Poem originally written on 10/26/11 8:24 AM by Dr.A aka Lecinqblog
We sit there,
sighing,
not believing,
with fear that,
what we take for granted,
can suddenly stand the danger,
of being taken away from us,
leaving each of us a pauper ,
on a strange metaphorical level ,
if not on a real level.


I know exactly how he feels,
maybe I don't,
Maybe I do on some other level,
His vocal cords,
his defining "everything" in a big multifaceted identity,
suddenly,
I am reminded about me,
I thought they were my tonsils,
Apparently it was,
not just the tonsils,
the salivary glands I say,
the teeth too,
suddenly ,
Thoughts,
about My food fetishes,
My propounded cookery travel show,
His songs,His voice,
yeah, let us not forget
Me insisting on textures,
Me insisting on raw crunchy bowls of food,
Now,
where are the textures?

His evenings devoid of his own voice in rehearsals,
His voice plays in his head,
while he lays there in silence,
possibly worrying ,
and overeating over the worry,
me sitting and worrying in the evenings too,
very hungry but can't really eat,
people not believing how serious it is in my mouth when I insist,
I worry,
I won't get adequate appropriate help in time,
I worry,
He worries,
I can't even eat,
appearances are deceptive sometimes.
Someone was accusing me of being too thin,
that I should eat more,
people judge and assume stupid weird assumptions don't they?
Little do they know that I want to eat but I can't due to the condition,
MOUTH CONDITIONS,THROAT CONDITIONS
No really,
I want all this to go away like a bad dream,
for him,
It might get better,
I hope the throat gets better,
What about me?
It is never going to be the same, no?
And people judge,
They are less likely to help,
If you look healthy and pretty otherwise,
punishment for the pretty,
you see, they assume and expect patients to look all sad and dog-gone,
why, but, so many presumptions, and
then I sit here, full of worry, typing out poems titled, "his vocal cords and my tonsils"
SIGH!

The Embrace

WARNING: SENSUAL MATERIAL/erotica
If you are below the age of 15, kindly refrain from reading further.
I wrote this in an email to someone on an emotionally charged thursday dated Feb 10,2011.
I have no idea, NO IDEA,what possessed me , TO WRITE SUCH AN INTIMATE DEEP letter to someone.Very raw,very true,very sensual.I wrote it coz i felt it.And when I feel things I HAVE THIS COMPULSION TO WRITE THEM OUT

If emails are WITNESS then yes, I did write this email to someone.
Whether that SOMEONE ever deserved even a miniscule second of my time and attention is a question that begs to be asked..but, hey!, I DOLED IT OUT , didn't I?

I wrote this poem to a man, who probably only knows how to love  his own needs .Someone who probably knows to emotionally love mmmm maybe men ? Men who left him for another country.Someone who can love  and share with any odd woman that comes his way and is a sure thing (any woman/multiple women would do,yeah? ).A man who thinks of love as some kind of obligation.Someone who thinks that love is an obligatory gesture towards someone who does something mundane for him in real life.

So, given how he is internally wired and Since I was ONLY this  nameless and faceless Internet dame,To him I was just another "entity", nothing TANGIBLE enough to amount to anything mundane and materialistic.

Either ways, I now feel that He was not worthy of this poem(though I actually  did write it to him really fully MEANING it then) because  the whole time we interacted, he was so reluctant and fearful of OWNING UP AND CELEBRATING THE "possible" love he felt for me though that very whole time  I somehow could sense that I MEANT A GREAT LOT OF A DEAL TO HIM IN A LOT OF WAYS judging from what special words(except the word love) he wrote for me .It is only later that I understand that HE JUST HAS NO VALUE FOR HIS OWN WORDS...his own words have no meaning for him.

Or maybe he never felt it(THE LOVE) because of which he never FELT OBLIGATED TO OWN IT UP
Whichever is the case, here we are at this blog entry, years down the line.

So,yeah,.PLEASE NOTE THAT THE POEM IS EXTREMELY RAW and SEXUAL(not gross or anything)..so,don't gasp at raw sentences when they come up as you read it ! K?

And also, please don't read it and THEN IF YOU ARE A CREEPY GUY, permit yourself to have amorous thoughts towards me.(please don't).

(To all the MR.U admirers who come to nose around in this blog..NO, I DIDN'T WRITE THIS POEM FOR MR.U.it was for mr.green)

Here goes the POEM,

THE EMBRACE
poem by Dr.A aka LECINQBLOG

You ask me what I would like to do to you in bed,
on the table,
in the lounge room,
outside at night ..
(The above passage, he had asked me in one of his letters to me. He asked me what I would do in each of those specific places-These sentences inside the brackets was NOT IN THE ORIGINAL EMAIL.It is to express the implied meaning)

Just minutes ago,
I saw someone that vaguely reminded me of you

And yet again,
..the bodily need,
the desires started all over again

xxxxxxxxxx(part of email omitted for the sake of poem continuity)
About the embrace

That bare breasted embrace,,
both of us shirtless,
while my breasts ;
touch your chest,
Gently,
like kisses;
and I lay my head on your shoulder.

Gentle summer evening,
Pleasant mellowing approaching night,
Twilight,
me and you in a soft gentle embrace.

I will never have you in reality,
This hurts..so much.
It hurts coz you want me so much too,
That is why it hurts all the more!
In that bare breasted embrace,
as you hold me like you would a young child,
caressing and protecting,
tightening your grip on me and loosening it,
the breeze from the balcony blows into the darkening living room,
the room that is slowly getting dark,
Yet, we haven't had the time to go switch on the lights in preparation for the night;
coz we are busy embracing each other.

On some days I want you so much.
I want your children knowing fully well  how UNFIT you are to be a father!
Yet  I want you inside of me,giving me my children from you.

UNREQUITED, UNREQUITED..everything so unrequited...

Why this obsession?
Mutual very much,this obsession.
When did we hook up like this mentally?
I want you to tell me how my breasts feel over your chest,
As they touch you I want you inside of me,
...slowly,,repeatedly..gently...like you own me..