Who I Be: Raw and Real

Who I Be: Raw and Real

Raw and Real

I just can't see, how you can be, sometimes, just so sometimey
Up in your world, of fantasy - that you just won't....just look and see
What you do - to me and she...and what it is you do to he...
Can't you just be, the real you to me...happily, in truth and deed?
It's fine to be a non perfect thee
Raw and real with integrity
Cause it's plain for me...and she...and he - to see just what you think of we
To cop us out with that apology of "so sorry" and "woe is me"
We can't be real, we can't be we, cause then "nobody cares for me"!
I need for you to see in me...and see in she...and see in he
The ugly you, you placed in we
The too taboo for to you to see
The damage you instilled in we
Release that jaded fallacy
Cause all we three are part of thee
Now all we want is to be free
We love the you that you give to we
Unbiased and wholeheartedly
We just long for that consistency
Of who you be, when there's no we
...just you and He
A non perfect thee
Raw and real with integrity
Cause all we want is to be free
For we all three are part of thee

My Momma

(January 8, 1995)

She - who has cried millions of gallons of tears
while viewing sentimental films - while receiving good news
Who has been separated and lost - the continuous existence of one loved

Millions of gallons of tears over the past twelve broken hearts - over the struggles and obstacles of deferred dreams - over painful goodbyes and reluctant hellos
From laughing hysterically due to the influence of burnt and inhaled marijuana leaves

She - who has doubted confidence within her soul - loved everyone as is - cannot accept herself

She - within the skin of the race - within the body of the gender - within the imperfections of her humanity

She - who savors fine wine, tender slices of outrageously expensive steak and emits a bourgeoisie persona - scrapes change for laundry detergent

She - who writes the checks before payday
She - who is needy yet helps those in despair
Whose voice soothes the worry of all

She - who enters and exits lives with perfect timing, like an "angel of illumination" - with an infinte amount of open arms.

The Man Who I Call Earl

I will not say that I regret that past that I was placed
I learned and loved and lost and gained - challenges we all must face
But I need to see where I went wrong, just for peace of mind
You sang me in your morbid song, which left me weak and blind
Please hear me out, while I search for whom I call myself
And when I'm done, these memories, will go back on the shelf
I let myself be drawn in, persuaded by your deem
And the naive cave I'd crawl in, helped strip my self-esteem
I believed in your somewhat efforts to announce and proclaim your care
Yet in the same breath, overlooked as if I were not there
You held me and you hugged me, all while you broke my heart
With a desolating deftness that you mastered like an art
Can't you see the pain you've caused - the tears behind my eyes?
Don't you remember promises and hopes fulfilled with lies?
Left immure and intoxicated by your deficient love
Where was your fatherly image that I'd been dreaming of?
Emotionally drained at the age of nine and ten
You never could accept me for what I was back then:
A child; mature, but foolish; old yet still too young
Who failed to realize your conditional love, to which I desperately clung
Too many tears and sighs, to little time to dwell
And graciously those hard lessons have led me to prevail
My mission is complete, I've found the answers sought
Today I'm wise, my eyes are open, I've learned the lessons taught

My Parents' Wedding Poem

Complete. Without doubt.
I've found my mate divine.
Temptations to shout out:
That I have you to claim as mine!
Peace of mind is what sets in
as you smile into my eyes
We are the best of friends
Beyond pettiness and lies
A Spiritual connection
Our souls combined as one
Much more than mere perfection
You are as priceless as the sun
Words - too insufficient
to entail just how I feel
So I will substitute "true love"
The rest...
my actions will reveal

March 1996

Untitled

10/20/01

Haven't quite yet figured things out
Confused, conflicted, perplexed

Hoping for what may never well be
Trying for what may never be right

Clarity?  I wonder if there is such a thing

Rushing as if time will actually wait
Yearning as if I'm not already blessed

Unappreciative, ungrateful, disloyal
Trivial frustrations as if they truly are important

Dissatisfied, disoriented, restless

Lost.  When everything is right before me

This should be easy


Can't just sit still and partake
Can't just enjoy what is good


Always hoping for what may never well be
Always trying for what may never be right


Always lost.  When everything is right before me

Simone Brewer

Who I Be

(Nov 1995 - age 15)

No this poem is not to say that I am me
Or that I'm being the Black female of whom I be
'Cuz I live under labels from sistah to b#%tch
And at times, even a queen, since my color's so rich
Yet I can be thought of...as sh&t, since my loins lie flat
Then for the same reason I'm considered all that
Damned if I do, damned if I don't
A tramp if I will, a tease if I won't
What does it matter if I'm a "duck" or a "notch"?
A BOY will compliment me as he grabs on his crotch!
Called "weak" and a "zero", if I don't use my brain
Swole-headed. Stuck up. Since I am up on game
A nag if complaining - passive if not
A drag if not gaining and owning a lot
But snooty if rich and possessing a gem
Yet I should be down and share it with him
His h*e amongst friends, since I'm not around
His "sweetheart" and "baby" when he wants to lie down
Goofy if laughing, flashing if hurt
An attitude if not allowing to be talked to as dirt
Trying to decide whether to leave or to stay
I'll miss him tomorrow if we break up today
There are other fish steadily ringing my bell, constantly calling my name, always yanking my tails
But are you all real? Or as bunk as the rest?
Your progress: so slow - I have some requests:
Leave me alone! Unless you come at me real
Holla' about something that I'm willing to feel
Because females are people as well as ya'll are

Distinctively different, yet equal by far
Wake up and realize, ya'll saltin' ya'll game
B#%th?! H*e?! I told you my name!
Just approach me and treat me like you want me to stay
And if not...
Don't come crawlin' as I move on my way

© Simone Brewer

UNEARTHING MISPLACEMENT

Dark brown, nappy hair, skinny, absurdly tall

Physical attributes being a far cry from textbook beauty

Unintentionally submissive and charitable to a fault

It’s a simple formula really: remove any real instillation of empowerment; pride

Low and behold! A surefire doormat (for lack of something more poetic)

I discovered weed attending summer school before 10^th grade and as fate would have it, I protruded breasts and discovered eyeliner too

My smoker friend liked to braid hair; she was skilled and improving

My fate was looking up

Male contenders took interest

The illusion of confidence surged throughout my veins

I was finally somebody after 15 endless years of nobody

Did I mention delusion?

Yeah, well the contenders knew I was just. some. body.

They simply failed to tell me that I was both the contender and the game

I survived “my first” and the trepidation dissipated

Then...I had power

Intoxicating, with THC’s euphoria helping me along

To be desired; so fulfilling, so parallel to feeling loved...so...

Fleeting

I chased it and slowly, yet profoundly, left a piece of my spirit tattered with each touch

So...

hindsight reveals that my bona fide power was to be found in my aptitude for my own self-deception

Where in the hell was foresight when I needed it?

© Simone Brewer