sky shore sea by kali tenee (that's ME)

It's been a long time since I've graced this blog with anything other than attempts at breaking the seal on my writer's block. SO...that makes what I'm about to say even MORE scrumptious!

I RELEASED A POETRY BOOK!!! Yes! Kali Tenee aka Kween aka Keys...has written a poetry book and dropped it in the middle of a November day like Beyonce! lol

I'd been working on "sky shore sea" for about a year, in secret...trying to make sure that whatever was placed in this collection of poetic thought, would be something I could be uber proud of...and it is.

I also did the cover (yaaay me) and because it was a self-publishing situation, I had to edit for myself. I don't think I did too badly (even though I caught a couple of oopsies AFTER the fact) LOL

I'd love for you all to check it out. It's available on Amazon and Createspace.  It makes a perfect Christmas gift...well, it makes a perfect ANY time gift :)

I pray that your holidays are lovely and that your New Year is a beautiful ushering into BETTER days.

Check me out in these places:

Fancy Face Kreations on Facebook
Website: www.fancyfacekreations.wix.com/fancyface
Twitter: @kweenflyy
Instagram: @fancyfacekreations
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Buy "sky shore sea" at:

Amazon
Createspace

Love,

wait just a minute, brotha

this poem is in response to a spoken word piece you can find here by mike geffner.

i was a tad heated by his need to justify his choice to be with non-white women over sistas, by vilifying sistas (while also mocking a typified version of a black woman). anyway, without further ado...

now...now...my "brotha"
let's not play the blame game
...seems to me
like you're extra salty
because you bit off more than you could chew
you chose a rat
from the hood
that wasn't no good
looking for that ever elusive
and much talked about good good...
lemme guess?
she was fine?
light- skinned divine?
did she have that cola bottle shape?
was she the one all the girls loved to hate
[making her the envy of all your friends]
giving you rights to brag
on that hottie you bagged...
yet, you thought that trite shit
wouldn't come to an end?
hmmm...
lemme see,
you paid them bills
because her head gave you chills
and though you lived with your mama
you were a good man, still...
and you're tight because she preferred thug drama?
...but it's "US" though, right?
so, you chose this ho
who equated ass with cash
who chased thugs with cars...
am i right so far?
and...according to your mocking
popped gum while talking...
and you're blaming "SISTAS"...
for this bullshit, mister?

no sir, you may want to stop right there
let's be 100 and let me make this clear...
just say you fell in love
no explanation required
don't shift accountability
onto a sea of sistas' lack of humility
because,
while you were macking ms. tacky
and chasing big booties and just-right thighs
some geeked out fat girl
was praying you'd see her past her size
and perhaps,
her hair wasn't as long
her personality not as strong
you had on shades to look through her
but want US to throw rose-colored glasses on
so we can "get over"
that you chose peach over brown?
i could respect your choice
to be with whomever you want
far easier if you weren't
trying to simulatneously front
making hoodrats and hos
your scapegoat for your woes
when the truth is this...

you chased what you saw
seeing no flaws
then you cried foul
after finding your supposed diamond
was just a bit too raw
YOU chose the woman
who used her body for barter
YOU chose the woman
who used you for sugar, daddy...
now you wanna get cute
because you're dating beth, jane and maddy?

now, you're all
"fuck you and fuck her, too"
because your daydreams of rocking her world
were over so soon
due to you never being a glimpse in her moon
and as you were watching her,
someone more suitable was watching you
whom YOU didn't see
in all the revelry...?
you wanted the trophy so badly
that you may have run past one
willing to run the ball beside YOU, sweetie
so, don't blame ALL black women
because you chose the WRONG black woman
if you like peach over brown
well then "get on down"
but don't box us in
to this group you resent
among us are the ones
who WOULD have given you a chance
had you not been wrapped up
in a bad romance...
we all have been through
i've been hurt, too
but, I keep hope alive
for my ebony king to arrive
no one chased you off
you ran in the other direction
and guess what?
it's NOT a direct reflection
because you get to love...who...you...choose
just don't make this about win or lose
and blame everyone else...
just say you love who you love
and keep your excuses to yourself


© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

perfectly alone

i can remember

even now

how before we were split

from one soul

into endless pieces

how the kind tone

in your love

gave me eagle wings

placed posture in my stance

gave grace to my dance

and added immeasurable time

to my life span

i haven't forgotten,

the way your praise of me

was full-bodied

outspoken

genuine and far-reaching

your genius my genius

me learning, you teaching

you everything

i wasn't seeking

the first

to ever stretch your hand

past the skin on my breasts

wanting mostly

just to tap on my soul

stoke its fires

and be what i needed

to keep the pyres heated

your valiance

and chivalry

protection and proclamation

given so easily

no thought required

no return desired

so, with all those things

nestled sweetly between

then and now

how is it,

that the source

of these zealous declarations

are trapped off

in painful echoes

in my mind

heart

from your lips

with no thing offered

with no thing sacrificed

with no urgency applied?

how could you love me so,

still...love me so

and leave me

teetering on a pedestal

with no way down

no room for a companion

on this idyllic plateau

of your esteem

and left with

the fear of heights?

what am i to do

with all i remember

and no way to forget

what i once had

deserve

but, cannot seem to touch?

...i want to know

how do i fall from this high place

and in love again?

© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

kiss of change

when he met me
i wore red lips
and fingertips
my hair was as high as my esteem
my clothes
hugging me
a taste of my embrace
he met me,
my laugh loud
booming
with heart skips
and deep soul dips
and if there was anything
i didn't embody
he wanted to lend me
starting with my body

...so he reached for me
caressed my hand
and tickled my heart
laughed me into a tizzy
and won me clean
the more we made love
and saw each other naked
the more he wanted to cover me
he smudged my lip stain
i was too seductive
he took down my hair
"wear it like this"
the tips of my fingers and toes
he wanted bare
so i did...
my wardrobe loosened
lost color
...and life
yet, when the light left my eyes
he resented me
he was disgusted
and my power over him
turned off...
he tried to make sense
of why my kisses weren't the same
why my hold no longer held
why my face had no frame
and yet it was me who'd gone limp...

he changed me
to tame me
to keep me...he censored me
snuffed the fire inside
by masking the outside
...and he hated me for it

i should've fought the mold
bucked what i was told
instead...
i pacified to satisfy
i was the one who needed love the most
yet still dispensing it like liquid soap
even though,
the more i gave
the more unclean i felt

after him,
no other can change my colors
knock off my crown
or change my gear
from jeans to gowns
my laugh will echo
made of composed rhythms
i will be draped with self worth
and wrapped in dignity
with my all,
i will remain
heated with the passion
of red lips
and a spirit that's free
no one's love
is worth...changing me


© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

revolving doors ~inspired by Perri Forrest

My sis *sister in scribe/sister in spirit* is penning a book to be released soon. "Revolving Doors" is the prequel to her short, "Rendezvous". this poem is inspired by her sweet story.

i tried to forget you

in foreign arms

and scripted kisses

i tried

unsuccessfully,

to 'x' out your impression

with penciled happiness

weakly scribbled over

pen-stained love

i sought comfort

in purpose

and drive

and still my eyes

were not dried

in every move away

i drew closer to closure

closer to the thing

i chased like butterflies

against zephyrs of denial...

i was searching for redemption

and what i found...

was solely searchable

...in you

hidden in muffled breaths

found in limbo

upon your lips

i found you...

in suppressed memories

resurfaced from corked springs

of past summers...

and now,

i am redeemed

as i come full circle

spun through a revolving door

bringing me home

...to you



© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

naked inside out

there’s something so free,
so vulnerable
about being [a woman]
underneath the weight of a man
limbs spread as wide
as her wanting can take them…
so aroused by the hands on her skin, 
his mouth covering hers…breathing for her
as he sucks her tongue
searching her mouth for a flavor too good to label…
creating chilled vibes,
raised and sensitive to touch
…it’s as open as one gets…
the treasure’s chest
unlocked, open and glistening with her value
being plundered over and over
stroking parts unreachable
scratching itches that fingers can’t feel
back arched
naked and nude
receiving and giving
nothing but air, sweat and pheromones between you…

to be open
the door of her sex unhinged…
is the sexiness
freedom
trust and sweet oblivion
that brings delight
to being naked…
inside out.


© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

poem #11: it's like that?

so
you are
just going to
keep it this way?
you're okay with the silence?

you...
don't see
how things could've
at one time...changed
had you just said something?

"I"
have to
ALWAYS speak first
the one to change
apologize, clarify and then justify?

I
am sick
to damn death
of folks creating space
and being angry about it later!

Am
I not
worthy of you...
your love and concern?
your loyalty, remorse, compassion or time?

OR
is this
a show of
your own personal guilt
and reticence to claim accountability?

just
make sure
you tell it
the way it happened
including your own part, too...

DON'T
make me
your scapegoat excuse
and label me bad
because I served zero fucks...

...and yea...it's like that...and that's the way it is.


© 2013 Kween Kiwi