based on a true story. but not me (smile)

No Shade For The Evening
by Mocha Sistah
(for yadi)

Eyes wide shut.
No light coming inside
I cry rivers of blue aches
this evening.

Scratching a voice that will no longer
speak a revolution cause my television is blurred and my channel is on a blank station.

I'm 23, with baby, and my baby's daddy constantly wails that he cares for me, but he's out kicking it with his boys.

Meanwhile I am withdrawing from that romantic love that got me here in the first place.

Sadness is my pillow at night for wet tears roll down my numb face every day between changing funky diapers and patting my beautiful child's face.

My life is flashing by like a radiography real slow
and frozen.

The cool days and hot nights of hanging with Layla
and the crew at North Avenue beach are all gone.

Those days are over.

I feel like I'm on a crazy curved road
going round and round and can’t stop.
No direction.
Just can’t stop.

Screaming at baby until my voice claws
my anger so maybe it will shut her up
so I can hear myself think.

I got no shade for the evening and my stomach won't stop wailing blues.

I don't want to golf down shrimp flavored ramen noodles again
cause my baby's daddy didn't bring enough for us to eat.

And since baby's the first priority
I chew on my stupidity and wonder why I never looked passed the moment of wet silky thighs and unspoken lies bubbling from within.

I hate this desperate life.
Loathe the way my body feels
after the pregnancy.

Too many rolls by my stomach
that he doesn’t even want
to touch so I starve myself
for beauty again.

Inside I wonder why
my self-esteem is tickling away
slowly like a heavy fire dying down
with no embers left.

I’m desperate for self-revolution.
Where is the devotion in me for me?
Why can’t I raise up?
Scream a passionate speech
And feel something?
Will I ever taste fruited life
rhythms again?

I need to pull myself out of this misery and
get that GED yet I’m more concerned
about him and why he hasn’t gotten
home yet - again.

Embers dying in my soul again.
No tears to cry.
I silence my revolution.

I‘m tired of polishing red pain on my
toe nails like that’s a beautiful thing.

I’m so sick of babysitting for a severance
paycheck from my sister who
thinks she is doing me a favor.

I need to rediscover me
before I die in this huge pool of
unresolved fantasies

Need to get hungry again
for stability
and let the love shine
again in my soul.

© 2004 by Mocha Sistah