ALL THE LIES ARE TRUE…excerpt

Chap. 2
The Greyhound terminal was alive with activity even though it was well after midnight. I made my way through the crowded terminal to the restroom and the smell of urine that had missed the toilet bowl greeted my nostrils. An old lady-my first bag lady- was busy cleaning her underarms with a paper towel and eyed me suspiciously as I tried to pick out my matted fro.


Some of my initial excitement at being in tinsel town had subsided as reality set in. After all, it was after midnight and I didn’t have any place to go. No one was waiting outside to take me home. To welcome me after a long, hard bus ride.

It was too late to call Brian. What was I going to do? I could feel the panic slowly welling up inside me. Ok, ok get a hold of yourself Maya. This is what you wanted. You’re here so just calm down and think/think/think. I eyed my full, black afro slowly regaining its Angela Davis shape in the dirty mirror and my thoughts drifted back to home.


Kurt. That sorry brother. He was really one of the reasons I was out here all alone. Him and his revolution. Power to the people… butthole. I can’t believe I actually married him.

I should have known the Creator was sending me a message when my wedding ring fell in the gutter as I was getting out of the car in front of the wedding chapel.

I watched it wash away in the steady rain that had greeted us when we crossed the border into Elizabeth City. High and happy, we both giggled at the omen and disregarded it as we laughingly made our way into the chapel.

Later, I often wondered if that union was legal since we were both so high, we didn’t really know what we were agreeing too. That lost ring was the beginning of a 2 year long odyssey to hell and back.


Short, dark and with muscles in all the right places. Kurt was H. Rap Brown/Stokeley Carmichael and Don L. Lee all rolled up in one neat package. He literally (and figuratively) charmed the pants off every girl he met.

Spouting revolutionary rhetoric as he swaggered around the campus, Kurt was definitely considered a catch. Plenty of revolutionary and counter revolutionary sisters wanted him.
I hear you’re the sister in charge of the black culture show. I looked up from my half-eaten tuna sandwich. His deep brown eyes had a hypnotic quality that made me catch my breath.

Yes, can I help you… trying to sound business-like, but I was sure he could hear my heart thumping. Yeah, sista my name is Kurt and I’m the minister of culture for the BSU. Just left a meeting where some of the brothers were talking about your cultural programs and thought I’d come by and offer my help. That is, if you don’t mind.


He sounded so innocent and little-boy-like I couldn’t resist smiling. Hmm, you’ve got a beautiful smile, he whispered. It’s a good thing my skin is so dark. Otherwise I would have been beet red. I was blushing so hard.

No, I don’t mind. I could use some help. I knew I was acting foolish but the effect this brother had on me was unbelievable. Flirting boldly, he leaned closer burning his eyes into mine. Well, I’ve got a class right now, so maybe we could get together later and work on this thing, he said. Okay, I nodded feeling the heat slowly make its way down my body.

How about if I meet you back here in the café around six? I’ll be here, I replied. His eyes traveled the length of my body as if he were on tour. I think I just met the woman I’m going to marry. Smiling, Kurt turned and swaggered off in that sexy, thigh hipped walk that made several girls in the café put their forks down and stare.


I tried to look cool and unconcerned as I sat waiting for him to show up for our meeting. The cafeteria was noisy with the fraternity/sorority crowd lining up for the dinner meal. I took a seat near the door so Kurt would be able to easily spot me.

Engrossed in my Afro American history text, I looked up to see his eyes searing through my free Huey t-shirt. Well, my beautiful black queen have you decided when we’re going to get married? I smiled broadly. Kurt was dressed in light blue jeans that emphasized the huge bulge in his front and a cut off jean jacket revealed a shirtless, very hairy, very muscular chest.


Married? I laughed. I don’t even know your last name, I retorted. And besides it may not go good with my name. Hmm, it’s Goodman…Maya Goodman. I think I like that. Don’t you? he said easing his sexy body next to mine. Yes, I think I like that just fine…unless of course you are one of those sistas who wants to keep her own name. Defiantly, I said, And what if I am? Kurt touched my hand. It’s fine with me. Just as long as you give me beautiful, black babies that can carry on my line.
This brother is not only fine. But he is bold with a capital B. I could feel myself falling hard for his charm and I knew he could feel it too.

Copyright 2019. Part 3 coming next week.

ALL THE LIES ARE TRUE…excerpt

Chapter 1.
Los Angeles, the driver drawled over the cracking PA, please stay in your seats until the bus is in the terminal and thank you for riding Greyhound.

I sat erect in my seat not believing that I was finally here. Five days and nights of white lined highway/interrupted sleep/funky rest stops and an assortment of junk food for breakfast/lunch/dinner…finally in the city of the Angels. I could hardly believe it. California. The other side of the world 2300 miles from Norfolk, VA.


I felt the crush of the other passengers crowding me as I tried to pull my bag from the overhead compartment.

Damn lady! get outta the way, you’re blocking the aisle, hollered a tall guy wearing a wide brimmed Texas hat and armed with an oversized duffel bag. I half fell into my seat getting out of this pardner’s way and decided to stay put until the bus was empty. Besides it wasn’t like I had anywhere to go.

Watching the caravan of passengers: young/old/Hispanic/Black/Hollywood hopefuls, I smiled as I thought of the adventure that surely awaited me.

Five days ago, I was a book shelving library aide in a Navy town and now here I am in sunny Los Angeles California.


I checked my sock to make sure my money-all $200- was still tucked safely inside and patted the slip of paper with the name and phone number of the one person I knew..well sorta knew scrawled on it.
Brian Westbrook 215 E. 120th St. Tell him you are a friend of Phil Murray.

Actually, I wasn’t a friend of Phil Murray. I was a friend of Phil’s girlfriend Stella. She had introduced me to Phil at a party about two weeks ago.

High on something, I remember Stella dragging me over to him from the safety of my corner.


Yeah baby, this is Maya. She’s on her way to Cali.

His red eyes gave away his condition.

Oh yeah, how you doing Maya. I’m from LA. You from there? No. Oh yeah, you got family out there? No. A job? No. Then why you going?


Struggling to make sense in my own altered state, I replied. Well, I just want to see what the other side of the country looks like..check out the Pacific. See what life is like somewhere other than here. Is there something wrong with that?


No sister..don’t get defensive. I mean I love it there. Can’t wait to get back there myself. It’s just not often I hear about too many sisters going out there alone without any family or anything.


Well, I guess I ain’t your ordinary sister.

The weed was making my tongue bold and I could feel Stellas’s eyes on me warning me to be cool.

That’s what’s wrong with you so called revolutionary brothers. You don’t think a black woman can do anything without a man.


Hold on sister. I didn’t say anything was wrong with it. Hmph, I mean you got guts going out to L.A. all by your lonesome. Especially now after the riots and all.


Stella was giving me this uneasy look. I guess she thought I was getting too much attention from her man.

Just then the DJ began playing Treat her like a Lady and I started looking around for someone to dance with.

Hey, wait a minute. Here’s the name of my best friend. Call him when you get there and tell him I said to look out for you.

I took the slip of paper, smiled sweetly and stuffed it in my bellbottom jeans pocket.


Now, I’m the kinda guy that treats a woman with the utmost respect.

My mind was filled with the thumping sounds of the Main Ingredients as I jerked my way out on the dance floor.

Well, things are looking up. LA bound and now I got somebody I can call when I get there. Who said HE doesn’t take care of fools and babies?

copyright 2019. Book Available soon on Kindle.

This Poem Could Be Our Song

The World yawns

Stretches and braces for

a New Day.

Leaves unfurl

Grass shakes off its dew

And I lie here sleepless

Thinking of you.

Missing the voice

That cradled

My heart

Soothed and

Calmed

My Fears.

Whispered gently

Trust me

I got You.

Missing the smile

That twinkled

those eyes.

Bringing out the

Impish boy inside.

Missing the hands

That healed

The wounded.

Prayed to

the Creator

And caught

Hold of mine.

Carefully guiding me

Beside not behind.

Missing the mind

Lightning quick

Complex/collecting/processing/storing

Zoom Zoom on multiple tracks

A Beautiful mind

Reserving cerebral space

For my thoughts.

Missing the passion

The volcanic eruption

Bubbling over

Spreading its fiery

furnace

Over my sacred land.

Missing my smile

My lightness

My glow

That touched all

Who know.

Missing the love songs

The CDs

Mixed tapes

in my email

And my playlist Reply

Phyllis. Oleta. Ledisi.

I’m calling you/ Get Here If You Can/Pieces of Me

Missing the kitchen

The Back forty

Farmers Market

After church

Redbox movies

The lake

The woods

Damn

I am missing you.

MEN ARE MARS/WOMEN VENUS

Author and relationship expert, John Gray, PhD. really nailed it back in the 90s with his book Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. The premise of this couple’s manual is that men and women have such different needs and expectations, they may as well be from different planets. The book sold millions of copies and spent over 100 weeks on the best seller list.

Hailed by the couples’ therapy community as the bible of male/female understanding, this book finally threw all the cards on the table and enlightened millions of bewildered men and women (mostly women) who made their way through its pages. A shrewd marketing person even came out with the book on tape version making it accessible to those non-readers who could gain enlightenment on their morning commute.

Being a lover of all things Venus, I too purchased a copy of this book and after devouring its pages attempted to have a conversation with husband #3, the Keeper of All Knowledge.

Blah, Blah, Blah…was all I remembered from that conversation as he immediately tried to discredit the author. I even purchased the book on tape version as a birthday present, but it remained untouched. His commute, he said, was only a few minutes and he preferred listening to country music…more relaxing…less enlightening.

So, with that and more recent lack-of-communication-events in mind, Ladies, I want to revive my call for the “Let’s Take a Holiday From Men Day”.*

Regardless of how blissful your current relationship may be, I believe that all women need some Me Time. Here are a few suggestions on how to spend your Me Day.

1. Begin by downloading Heather Headley’s In My Mind. This is soulful, Caribbean almost church with a beat music. (Did you know Me Time was co-written by Baby Face and mixed at a studio in Va Beach).

All things being equal

I always put you first

You know that I’ve been down for you.

Through better and through worse

All things being equal

Boy, I’ve been more than cool

So it seems only natural

To expect the same of you.

…I need some Me time…Not some you and some I. Just some Me time…that’s all.

Turn the volume way up and dance around in your Victoria Secrets as Heather harmonizes the anthem of Women Worldwide.

2. Next, set the TV so that No channels with balls being bounced, tossed, passed, chucked or dunked can be shown. Clean the remote (studies show it contains more germs than your toilet) with a cotton ball and a little listerine. Set the remote so only shows from Bravo, Lifetime, WE, OWN, Hallmark and PBS run continuously for 24 hours.

3. Make a special trip to the Mall and buy that purse, pair of shoes, designer dress…something that you have been eyeing for months and take it home without removing the price tag. Display it proudly, unashamedly in the front of the closet for Him to see.

4. Pull out your stash of cookbooks and clipped recipes and prepare a Meatless Gourmet Meal that is not only healthy but looks exactly like the photo. Serve your meal on the fine china you reserve for his mother together with real napkins and a long stemmed wine glass full of something French and expensive from the top shelf at Total Wine.

5. Scour the bathtub of all those male (and dog) body hairs and have a Spa experience with your favorite scents bubbling in the tub surrounded by a roomful of candles with Luther or Kem crooning softly and lovingly in the background.

6. Lastly, pull out those expensive satin sheets hidden in the back of the linen closet. Put on your most comfortable nightie…no thongs or g straps… those are for him.. unbonnet your hair, moisturize your face and have the most restful sleep you’ve had in months dreaming about how you are going to celebrate your Next Holiday from Him.

* Reblogged From 2014.

Love and Light!

Comments are always welcome, fellas…smiling

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THE EXCITING/ADVENTUROUS/NO GOOD/HORRIBLE/ TERRIBLE VEGAS TRIP pt1

Recently, several people have inquired how I got into the business of Blogging. Although my profession was teaching, I fancied myself a writer having authored several nonfiction texts for young people and labored over the Ultimate Memoir/Fiction tome-All The Lies Are True.

I was also a modern day Griot (storyteller) and known for regaling party goers, polite strangers and insomniac phone callers with my tales.

After a life changing visit to Vegas, I found myself retelling the adventure over and over to the delight of the listeners. (Funny how people take pleasure in others’ misery).

So I decided to start a Blog and post the Vegas Tale there for all the world to see.

It is a long tale. But each segment ONLY takes 6 min. To Read

I will be posting it in weekly segments… always conscious of the time constraints of busy Readers.

Part 1 awaits…..Enjoy!

It all started back in March when the Unnamed one asked me to accompany him on a trip to the wild wild west for a family reunion.

Mind you, this is not his true family, but some kind people he lived with as a teen and who considered him their ‘brother’.

I had previously accompanied the Unnamed one a few years prior to the lovely Myrtle Beach for a similar event and made note that summer months in MB are not for the faint of heart…the humidity and heat is akin to running with scissors.

But the chance of going to Vegas made me go blind and lose my mind for a moment and I said yes.

Blinded by the visions of desert, cactus, prairie flowers, casinos, bright lights, and the Bellagio fountain, plans were made, Expedia was googled, booking a wonderful package via Delta complete with a room with a view at the mgm grand.

My first hint that something was askew happened when Delta changed our return flight time. This meant we either checked out of the hotel and wandered the halls of the grand (must be a marketing ploy for the casino) or pay for a whole ‘nother night and remain in the room a few hours until flight time.

But problem solved when I remembered I was in possession of a coupon for a free room in Vegas courtesy of eldest daughter T who had sweet talked me and my cash into going with her and youngest daughter J in the dead of February to Atlantic city via the ‘hound’. That is another Adventure not to be regaled here.

For all of you horror movie fans, this is when the music changes and you start to clutch your seat.

What I failed to notice in the email from Delta was not only had Delta changed the flight time, they had also assigned us new seats which were 12 rows apart from each other!

Did I mention that neither the Unnamed one nor I had been on a plane since 911? I, who used to blithely fly from LA to the East Coast and then anywhere else my wandering soul wanted to go, suddenly found myself earthbound and limited to snail travel.

But we rationalized it would be foolish to drive or take the train to Vegas. The only way to go was in the friendly skies and besides we would be together if something happened, wouldn’t we?

And we’re off…bright, sunshiny morning. Bags weighed and measured, liquids and powders in right sized containers, easy to remove shoes…we were the perfect travelers.

I got pulled over by the TSA as soon as I walked through the scanner. The frisker said it was my cell phone. What? it’s in the bin like the sign said. Wand waver took out a special cloth and calmly wiped the phone around the edges, slid it across a machine and smirked, You’re okay…have a nice flight.

And a nice flight was had by all. An hour and a half later, we descended into ATL with enough time to grab lunch and run/walk/take a people mover to the gate for our connecting flight.

Did I mention that the Unnamed one sustained an insect bite while we were in the ATL airport? (I think they are attracted to people with high alcohol counts in their blood).

This Reader, is what is known in literary circles as Foreshadowing.

We arrived in Vegas tired but happy to be on the ground. The temperature was a mere 100 degrees as we waited for a pricey shuttle to take us to the mgm grand. They did not offer free service, one of the many things I was about to learn about the not so grand, grand.

Business was a little slow at the front desk, however, a couple next to us was engaged in a serious discussion with the clerk about the condition of their room.

Words like substandard, dank, dismal were being tossed around by the angry, red faced man. Having been the recipient of some poorly outfitted hotel rooms in the past, I was all ears and calmly asked the clerk about the room we were being given.

She looked at me as if I had had just arrived from Pluto and said tartly, It is a king like you requested, ma’am and is 350 square feet!

She then pointed to pictures from a notebook showing what seemed to be a modern, stylish room.

After paying the abhorrent daily ‘resort fee’ (not mentioned in the Expedia small print), She politely directed us to the West Wing where we were instructed to walk down a long corridor, turn left, pass through the bar, continue on to the row of elevators that would deliver us to our suite.

Hah, words fail me. The corridor was indeed long and dark and painted with some metal gray color left over from a battleship. The rug reeked with the scent of wet feet and musk. I could barely breathe by the time we got to the room, as we were in what appeared to be the basement of the grand.

And the room. Someone must have photoshopped the picture she showed us. Yes, it had a king bed, but there was no desk, no drawer, no tub…only a shower and the view of an alley. It didn’t even have a coffee pot.

I later learned that Starbucks was doing booming business selling caffeine craving guests their expensive $10 a cup coffee.

Motel 6 had better rooms, I groaned. But this was the great mgm grand. Beyoncé and Jayz had stayed here. Surely, there had been a mistake.

I was disheartened but summoned up the strength after our $70 dinner of Mexican food (isn’t that just beans and cheese?) to call Expedia and complain about the accommodations.

Any of you readers who have dealt with these third party booking services already know what I am about to tell you.

The representative was in the Philippines. He was reading a script. He was sorry I was having a problem. But there was nothing to be done.

Oh, you want to speak to my supervisor? She is in a neighboring country, but hold on a minute.

20 minutes later. The supervisor connected. She listened patiently. And then informed me that she would note my concern about the room and the misleading information on the website for Future use.

BUT I would have to take up the room issue with the grand because Expedia had NO relationship with them and no power to change the room. Is there anything else I can help you with?

The heat, the stifling air, the loud noises of partygoers in the hallway, the sudden 4 hour time change And the two margueritas And shot of Patron together with the $70 nouveau chille relleno all conspired against me and I surrendered to that wonderful panacea…sleep.

I would deal with this, or rather I would have the Unnamed one deal with this in the morning.

But wait, tomorrow was our trip to the Grand Canyon and the bus was scheduled to leave at 6 a.m. sharp…was that eastern or mountain time…so the room issue would have to wait.

And so will you dear Reader for Part 2 of the Exciting, Adventurous, no good, horrible, terrible*Las Vegas trip.

(*Reference to popular children’s book about Alexander)

Love and Light! Comments always welcomed.

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SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

Is what He calls it

When He takes you to bed

After you have taken himTo Court.

Like an elaborate chess game

The 20 year relationship

two moves forward

One move back.

In the background Gladys moans

Neither one of us Wants to be the First to say Goodbye.

And yes Shakespeare

Parting is such Sweet Sorrow

But breakupWe must.

If I am to survive

If I am to breathe

If I am ever to find

My smileAgain

My laughterAgain

My Romantic Again

And Be clothed

In my Right MindAgain.

Vows broken

Cast carelessly aside

Another woman

in My marital bed

Head perched

on my satin pillow.

Secret phone calls.

Thousands of texts.

Midnight Rendezvous.

All belie My Innocence

And the lies

the lies

the lies

All starting to sound like the truth.

You know I will always love you hon. You ain’t got nothing to worry about with ME.We gon’ always be TOGETHER.

Singing Garth love songs

To me at karaoke

Where you thinkingAbout Her

and Not Me?

What makes a man

Turn and walk away

After you’ve given him

Your Everything?

Sacrificed your very soul

Just to be with him.

Gurl, what you see in That man?He ain’t even yo type.Definitely ain’t on yo Level.

Mama said there would be days like this

days like this…

Put yourself in Jesus Hands

Insomnia is now my bedmate.

Sleepless nights that never end.

And no this ain’t no fairytale.

No Stranger on a white Horse

galloping to save me.

Save yourself, gurl

Run, Run

Anywhere

Away from Him

Away from Hurt

Away from Disbelief

Away from Disappointment

Away from Shame

Hmph hmph hmph

26 years ago

Over half My Life

IWish I Could

GoBACK

ToThe Day

BEFORE WE MET

And SKIP My REGRET…

YOU.

Cheaters…A Guide

Technology has become an ally

In the war against

CHEATING.

Ask any Woman (or man)

Who has suffered

At the hands of

An unfaithful spouse

Boyfriend, Significant Other.

Cheating Hurts

No denying that

But how to know for sure

The one who vowed to

Love honor and

Cherish

Is not keeping his/her Word

Simple

Check his/her Device

It does not lie

And keeps a History

That when read

rivals any

Best selling novel.

The inventor of these little

Rectangular emissaries

Of Communication

Probably had never

Seen Cheaters or Maury Povich.

Never heard Nancy Wilson’s Guess

Who I Saw Today…

Guess who I saw today my dear

Guess who I saw today

Guess who I saw today

I Saw Youuuuuuu

(the Anthem for all who had been

wronged).

These mediums tried to bring attention

To this breaker-up-of-happy homes.

But Hello have you met

the iphone, Galaxy, Android.

Its first telltale hint is

The call that can’t be taken

The call made from the secrecy of the bathroom

(duh, Sound travels you idiot)

The call that must be taken

outdoors .

The call that elicits a sudden

change of voice

And Behold the Android produces

The Evidence.

Who knew those telltale Selfies

Sexy texts…I’m in Your bed..waiting for you.

Calendar reminders…meet Her at the Hilton..

Could become ammunition for

The Divorce Attorney?

Cheaters never win

It’s against the laws

Of Nature

Frowned on by the Monogamy

Crowd

And the Creator doesn’t think

Much about it either.

So ladies/gentlemen don’t fret

Don’t fume

And have more sleepless nights

Thoughts of homicide

Suicide.

Tuck that Device under your arm

The next time He or She is

Sleeping soundly

(No doubt dreaming about that THOT/loser)

Pour yourself a glass of favorite Wine

And prepare to be

Informed

Amazed

Shocked

Disgusted

Bewildered

And

HURT.

*(that ho over there)