Summertime

I am finally starting to recover.
I have been running since before I went to New Orleans.
I've been dragging my buddy Melissa with me, poor girl
she has to get up in the mornings, not me!!
This is when it's hard for me.
I wake up in the summertime thinking ...Hey I could call so and so and we could go to the movies or out to brunch or something fun.
And they are at work.
So instead of inviting them at some point it will turn into a taunt.
I'll be like,"Hey, wanna go to this very exciting and cool thing happening in the middle of the day?"
And they'll be like," You Know I'm At Work!"
And I'll be like "Oh, yeah, sweetie I forgot. I'll think of you while having fun. Don't work to hard."
My friends will hate me by July!

My brother is coming this weekend!!! He arrives on Friday hopefully in time to make Collin's open mic at GA Tech Barnes and Nobles. Then there is a new place in Decatur, I have trouble remembering the name of it. Then on Saturday my mother gets the Lifetime Achievement Award. Then Sunday Java and Monday House of Poets with Collin Kelley as the featured poets. If you are not at this show, there are many things wrong with you!

Hey, anybody going to Nationals just to hang out? My friends Karen G. And Stacie B. Got me hotel accommodations ( with a king sized bed just in case I get lucky and laid) and my brother is getting my plane ticket. I can't wait! I have never been to an actual real life slam competition where folks from all over are represented. Can you imagine the words, words, words! IT JUST MIGHT BE POETRY HEAVEN!

Act Your Age

Theresa Davis

I figured it out!! Who says you can't teach an old goddess new tricks. So how does 40 look on me? Be honest, I will not use my goddess powers to smite you. I may singe but I never smite!
I've got lots and lots of things happening this month! I need to create a new web page. I need to begin with a simple free site that I can use and update easily. Any ideas?

Poetry

I love poetry.
No, I really love poetry.
Last night at Cliterati we did kareoke (spelled way wrong i'm sure, i love poetry not spelling)poetry.
I read a couple of my mom and dad's (Jikki) poetry. I also read a poem by Christine Hamm titled My Poetry. The funny thing is I started a poem called My Words almost a year ago and stopped because it got way silly. One line says
"My words have often been mistaken for laxatives cause I got so much shit to say"
I am going to have to dust that poem off and give it a go.
I met a very lovely lady who covered my poem Off-KilterWorld. She invited me to perform at a party next week.
Did I mention that I love Poetry!!!!

Hey why the fuck do the Amish need a Wal-Mart! (is that how Amish is spelled?)
Why aren't the Amish throwing horse shit at that establishment.
Why is Wal-mart the devil,
and why are the fucking prices so reasonable and they are always so well stocked.
Just say no!!!
Mayans just say no!!!
Amish just take your horse and buggy and ride into the sunset. just say no!!!!!

Recovering

New Orleans? The final frontier.
What fun, fun, fun!!
Bourbon Street is an olfactory nuisance, imagine a street that smell constantly of sweat, puke, alcohol and ass. No wonder folks start drinking there and just don't stop.
Heat, heat, and more heat. But it's not just the heat but the humidity.
I am having poetry withdrawal! Can't wait for Cliterati tonight. I have no idea what I will do
but I will do it.
I will speak more about NO, later. Wanted to blog last night but the alcohol poisoning interfered with that plan greatly. I strayed from my friend beer, and got suckered into Long Island Ice Teas, there's no tea in there, especially when your bartender says oops while pouring the stongest liquors. Beer, I will never forsake you again, forgive me!!! Long Live Corona

It's Almost Over!!!!!

Only two more days of school. And it won't be a two days too soon!
I love my class, but they are leaving their mark on my locks.
Gray everywhere, no wonder I'm not getting laid. I look like someone's granny.
We had our graduation today and can I just say, middle schoolers in general are a surley crew. They were all stoic and Goth at the same time, just nutty. I am already in next year mode. Redecorating my class in my head and planning. I love my fucking job!!
I think I should take up racing cause all I seem to be doing lately is running.
This week end I'll be running to New Orleans!!!!!
My birthday is next week the big 40!
I got carded the other day and the guy looked at me and asked me if
I was sure the dates were right, lot of guys flirting with me lately...Creepy,
I said now wouldn't I be a dumb fuck if I made my fake ID say I was 40 when 21 would do it.
He grinned and asked for my phone number.
I told him to go to time out 'cause I was old enough to be his goddamn mother.
He asked if a spanking came with that.
Twisted little crackhead, why are knuckleheads catching me in their highbeams.

I read at the cemetery....and it was tooooooooo cooooooool! I loved it!
Nothing like a captive audience! Hey Collin.?

Something very upsetting to me happened last week.
My nephew was working on Wizzer Pizzer ( @ 7 Stages, go see it NOW).
His mother asked me how the show was. I began rattling on about haw amazing
the work her son is doing and how the show was funny and the political
implications, religious crap to, and so on and so on.
Mind you he has been working on this show for more than five weeks,
so she should have know what the fucking show was about inside and out.
I wouldn't let my child work on a project that kept him out till all hours of the night and not
know what it was about. So, she takes my conversation twists it and pulls him from the project! Does she do this Monday when she faked interest noooooo?!
She waits till Thursday two hours before call and then she doesn't even make the call.
My name gets thrown in the mix like I believed it was inappropriate!
I could have kicked her ass. I did in my dreams and then I had to steer clear of her the next day( we work in the same building) so much so that I blew off a field trip because apparently,
I have completely lost the power to bullshit and my hypocrisy button is stuck on fuck you!
This is a post full of 4 letter words! Damn I gotta stop cursing.
Any who!
Rupert was great at Java Sunday night! The new poem went well and I sold two books and a CD( yeah gas money)! Poor Cherryl was s exhausted she ended up crashing on my couch! Twas' the week for women to run themselves crazy!!
My birthday is coming up!!! My mom's getting me a tattoo.....What you goin' get me?????????

The Call

So, I have had quite a week and weekend.

I may actually have to get over my
allergic reaction to exercise and workout.

Since my preferred form of exercise (sex) happens
too few times and too far between times.

But, I digress. So, between open mics, my mother's performance,

her after party, needing to hang out with Melissa,
getting my mom off to South Africa, opening night of

Wizzer Pizzer and their after party, having an encounter of my own,

very nice I might add.

I was moving every night, and drinking every night,

doing poetry every night in some way or form, Theresa was a beat,
tired, and satisfied woman. Then Sunday, Mother's Day, I get a call.
Now normally I don't get phone calls at home teenagers, you know.

Realizing it was my cell, looking at the caller ID, what the fuck were the only
words that would come out of my mouth. It was my father. My biological father.

It threw me.
This is a man I haven't talked to on purpose for years.

The last time I had to see him was at my brothers wedding.

He pulls me to the side, I was warned to play nice earlier,
and it was my brother's wedding, and the reception hadn't started

so technically showing my ass twice would be redundant although

enjoyable in a de ja vu kind of way, I listened to the lie.

See, the only thing he tells me turns out to be lies.
He expressed that he was worried about me , that I didn't even tell him

about my upcoming surgery(this was in December) and he loved me.

He had this tearful look in his eye and I didn't respond.

To do so would be trading lie for lie, a game I'm not willing to play.

His last words to me on the subject were, " I'm going to call and check on you."
It never happened and I didn't count on it because this is a man

who hasn't remember my birthday in almost 20 years. No big deal.
So he calls on mother's day and if you decide to continue the reading

of this long winded blog you will see why it bugged me.

I tend to not deal with things, or those who don't want to deal with me.

Every once in a while I find myself in a situation where I'm trying to

save someone from themselves, but that shit never works. At Java, my head was full.

The call was fucking with me and I couldn't put my finger or my emotions on it.

When I got home I tried to think of my childhood with my father.

I have no memory of him before age eleven. Some friends think I am suppressing

a lot of shit, and they are definitely right. Let us pray that when I unsuppress (which I'm not sure is a word) that I am to old to pull the trigger and the shoppers of Piggly Wiggly will remain safe.
Here it is. I am going to perform it at the cemetery on Wednesday night, Collin Kelly is hosting an open mic there. I think it's just the right setting. Since I've kept this buried so long, it felt good to get it out. When I droped my poem it change the quotations, and apostrophe's to boxes. What the hell is that! I was going to fix it, but...NO!
Work it out!


May 8th 2005
My Sister's Birthday/ Mother's Day/ And My Last and Only Memory of My Father
© Theresa Davis 2005

"Happy Birthday to you!"
"Uh.........."
"Happy birthday to you!"
"Wait........"
“Happy birthday my sweet baby girl!”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Hello?”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Shawnta?”
“No, Theresa, your other daughter
Whose birthday is not today.”
“Theresaaaah!”
“Yeah, that’s me the other daughter
And well it’s not my birthday
But it does happen to be Mother’s Day
If you want to sing a few bars of that song.”
“Hey, baby I been meaning to call you.”
A lie, how unexpected
“Yeah…uh.”
“Yeah, how you doing”?
“I’m fine.”
“Good, good.”
“I just don’t know how I got your numbers mixed up.
Let me try to find your sister and by the way …
Happy Mother’s Day.”

This phone call disturbs me at first
Then I become enraged
And it makes no sense
and I think I don’t care
But it’s not my fucking birthday
And it reminds me that he hasn’t
Remembered my fucking birthday
In what seems like forever
Or at least since that day
I don’t blame him from deleting me from his
Memory of family
The daughter who challenged his manhood
Left him fearful
Of the possibilities of me
The probability of me
The me who would not
Be controlled by him
See, me being the oldest of four
Me who learned at an early age
Exactly what bullshit
Smelled like
Walked like
Lied…….
I mean talked like
“You need to call your daddy”
My sister says to me every once in a while
Since my response never changes
It's become some twisted joke between us
“Call him what” I sometimes reply
In that smart ass way
That I’m told I do quite well
“Call him a … coward."
“A liar”
“The thief that stole my childhood memories
Of him before that day
And holds them hostage?”
Because I have no recollection of him before that day
“ I don’t have a daddy.” I sometimes reply
“My daddy died.”
She understands but only a little bit
Cause she was young
When it happened
The day he snapped and took
My memories of him as daddy away
Threw them away
Like mental garbage
The day I stood up to my biological donor
The day of my right of passage
A right not forged from ancestral beginnings
But urbanized cloaked in domestic violence
As much an oxy moron as friendly fucking fire
That day when he decided
My mother was to be his punching bag
As four children watched in horror he struck her
And the irony of this being Mother’s Day
Brings it back to me in a flood of anger
Sets my brow to frown
The only true memory of my father
Never again to be called daddy
A title he no longer deserves
Not in my heart or mind
No wonder he can’t remember my fucking birthday
Because something undoubtedly changed for him that day
The day he learned his daughter feared no man
Least of all her father
He hit her like she was a man
In full view of his children
Teaching them something
That my eleven year old mind refused to believe
Refused to accept that this was the action of a man
While my siblings cringed in fear
I stepped forward
“Don’t hit her again.”
My voice not quavering in my memory
He looked me in the eyes
His eyes
And I could have plucked them
His eyes
From my head to not see this picture
I think I would have
But then I would have never seen the look in his eyes
When I held the knife to his throat
Reminded him of my request with
“Don’t hit her again.”
First confusion danced in those eyes
He move as if to disarm me
The serrated edge fixed more
Tightly around his Adam’s apple
Fruit easy to slice
Old Gynsu commercial scrambling his reality
Then those eyes, his eyes transfixed registered fear
My eyes, his eyes, remained unblinking
“Call the police!”
I yelled to my brother who stood holding the others
Stuck in horror as though it were quicksand
“Call them!” I said
My eyes never left his eyes
As his eyes, my eyes, shifted in their sockets
He looking toward the door a possible exit
In hopes of fleeing this now tainted space
We all wanted to leave
But my brother couldn’t move
Trapped in the fear
I moved myself to face my brother
Serrated edges plotting a path
Around this used to be daddy's throat
I fixed him my brother with those eyes,
My eyes, my father’s eyes
“Hold the knife on him.” I said in away that would never
Be mistaken as a suggestion or a question
“Or bring me the phone!” my resolve stony
Something about my tone
Or maybe it was the eyes
It’s all in the eyes
My eyes
His eyes
Made him move my way
I fixed my eyes again on
His eyes my eyes on my father’s eyes
The man who no longer held the honor of being my dad
He beat it out of me
Just as sure as if he’d struck me instead of striking my mother
Just as sure as he called me to wish me happy birthday on a day that wasn’t mine
Just as sure as he was a coward and
Just as sure as I called him on it
Just as sure as I reminded him that
He would never lay a hand on my mother again
It's no wonder he's deleted me
I’ve deleted him
Because
No daddy of mine would teach this lesson to his children
No daddy of mine would force me to protect mine from mine
No daddy of mine would be led away by police
No daddy of mine would fear the love I have for my family
No daddy of mine would forget my fucking birthday
And it’s here
Still here
It’s all in the eyes

Damn Tired!!!

Okay, why are there so many
fucked up crazy people in the world?
Why?
Tell me why?
Another stupid-ass,
pretends to be kidnapped!
What the fuck is that exactly,
and answer me this.?
If I pick up the telephone and call the police
to report a crime that is not actually happening,
will the cops not show up and arrest my black-ass?
Yes they will!
Rodney King style,
then they'd take some fucked up picture of me
looking like a prostitute crackhead
and play it on the news for a few days.
Ruin my reputation!
Why are folks deciding whether or not to press charges?
Did she commit a crime or not?
Deciding not to get married.
Not a crime.
Running away to get your head straight, and you're grown.
Not a crime.
Planning the get away for weeks.
Not a crime.
Calling in to the police department,
telling them that you have been kidnapped
and taken across state lines,
that it was a Hispanic male and a Caucasian woman,
that they cut your hair and put you in a blue van.
Hmmmm.... Yeah, that's a fucking priceless CRIME!
And I'm sorry if her skin had color any color,
It would not be up for discussion!!!
She might be a little crazy,
but we all know someone crazy in jail and
I bet if we really thought about it,
we'd have to admit
it's the best place for them.

And now she's got more shit to deal with.
Cause even though she faked an abduction,
ran across state lines,
to get away from the wedding.
He standing by his gal!
Dude did not get the picture and she might end
up marring him out of guilt.
She wasn't even smart enough,
to get engaged to a guy that would be smart enough,
to know when he's been dumped!
And because if she doesn't marry him she will be
regarded as the uncaring, crazy, stupid-ass,
bitch, that if she had the balls to
JUST SAY NO,
HELL, NO, if that's what she was feeling,
and we wouldn't have to hear
about be apart of,
watch,
or even feel the need to blog this shit.
* helpful hint***
This shit has been tried before.
They didn't get away with it either.
Did you Audrey?
Grow a fucking backbone and deal with your shit.
If you're crazy write that shit down and
become a tortured artist type and attract cute
people, who are interesting and fun,
who won't make you kidnap yourself.
Cause you're not good at it!
Get another hobby.
Kidnapping yourself.
Not working!
If you don't want to get married.
Don't
it's an evil institution,
you are better off not getting into it.
But should you find yourself there again.
Just kill yourself.
That way no fines, no apologies,
no TV coverage, no marriage!

I Did it!!

I finally did it! I have taken my first erotic photo shoot.
Not thinking of myself as a sexy motherfucker (as Prince would say), but
they look okay. Lot's of hair. That may actually be the only sexy trait I have.
And I have lots, and lots, and lots of hair.
I got more naked than I thought I would too.
Oh, well... You only live once, twice if you're Egyptian!
I can not believe how nervous and shy I felt.
My friends know how incredibly shy I am.
I barely speak above a whisper.
I don't swear, I don't drink, I don't smoke.
Goddammit, where's my bottle opener and ashtray!
No, seriously, I was so shy.... I am so shy.
More nakedness than intended, very tastefully done.
He took over 100 photos. Dang!!