FEENIN

I remember the first time My God ejaculated in my mind, allowing His seeds to spill through every crevice of my inestimable intellect; psychological orgasms have been in full effect every since, for THAT was the day that I SELF awakened. He revealed me.

I became a huntress, hungering for more, feenin for the sustenance of what only The God could supply me. I yearned to devour Him, endeavored to drain Him, but it mattered not how many times I went back, He was always in charge of His post, ready for me; waiting for me knowingly, prepared to release in that, that I AM, more of the sweet flow of His Force and Power; giving me my fix, just the way that I like it- thoroughly engaged, endlessly anointed with the stamina of His engorged SELF. I would grip His mind with my mind, holding on with the very nucleus of My LIFE.

We’d come together NAKED in TRUTH, in LIGHT, in RIGHTEOUSNESS, in ELEVATION; minds aligned. I’d reward Him with every essence of WHO I AM, exposing and opening my SELF to the cerebral Supremacy of His penetrating and probing, as I had no choice but to allow Him to manifest deep inside of ME. Perfect fit He was. Indeed…

We cruised interchangeably in our realities, a lattice of us; the unification of our minds’ vibration would resonate with the beautifully piercing utterance of our Ciphers’ communion. I was beginning to see the Universe with such clarity that only a mind such as His could attract from The Earth…..I glowed in The Sun….

But now I quake, my waters flood uncontrollably…..I burn as I freeze, for The Sun has departed from me, it has vanished; I can no longer see His Force and Power. I’ve been left to discover the Earth with just the light of the Moon to guide me….in search of Sun. This hunger is maddening…..this thirst is unquenchable. I feen…..I hunt…….          http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJS2nErHBN0

THE FIRST SEAT (THE MELODY CHRONICLES - THE YOUNGER YEARS)

I remember one summer, when as a teen, my best friend and I calculated a plan that involved each of us telling our parents that we would be spending the night at the other’s house. However, what we really planned to do was to meet up at the main bus depot and take an after dark ride all the way from our home city of Long Beach, California to hang out at a popular, all night amusement park in a neighboring county.

We pulled off our mission and had a fun filled night of amusement rides, scary houses and all the junk foods that we were physically able to stuff ourselves with. The last several hours of the night were spent at the park’s dance hall, Cloud Nine, the main attraction in the park for teens and young adults.
Wow, did we have a great time; feeling that natural high that comes along with knowing you’ve gotten away with something naughty. And got away we did….almost. Just before sunrise, my friend and I were headed back home on the reverse bus route of the one that had gotten us to the park the previous night.

Since learning about the plight of a stubborn Black woman by the name of Rosa Parks, I made it a mandatory self imposed rule that I would never sit at the back of any bus. As I ascended the steps of the bus to pay my fare I noticed that someone was already in the very first seat which just happened to be my favorite seat on a bus. You know the seat, the first one in the row of seats, alongside the wall of the bus, to the right of the bus driver? I mean damn, doesn’t everybody have a favorite bus seat? It was something about someone else being in the first seat, my seat, that irritated the heck out of me. In total annoyance, I contemplated the idea that maybe it wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t sit in the front for once. After all, there were very few passengers riding that early in the morning so I actually had a slew of alternate seats from which to choose, but, being the willful Capricorn that I am, I parked my ass in the second seat, right next to passenger number one, cramping her style like a motha. I could sense that passenger number one didn’t appreciate me crowding her in and I was certain that the other passengers probably thought that I had a mental problem for sitting there when I virtually had my pick of bus seats; fuck it, I wasn’t moving, I was going to wait passenger number one out and claim my seat and everybody could sense it. My buddy took the seat directly across from me, alongside the opposite wall behind the bus driver. We were still full of giggles and had smiles on our faces in reminisce of our prior evening.

Within the first couple of stops, passenger number one got off the bus and a cute, young brother, around my age got on the bus. As he was attempting to pay his fare I sat there convincing myself not to jump and move to seat number one because I was going to prove to myself that having the first seat wasn’t all that important, so, in complete obstinacy of self, I didn’t switch seats right away; I had decided that I would at least wait a couple of miles and then inconspicuously ease over into the damn seat.

After a while, I noticed that the young brother hadn’t taken a seat yet. It became apparent that he didn’t have the exact change for the fare when he begin asking the passengers if any of us had change for his dollar bill. I didn’t, a sister had only saved enough money to get home; I was spent out and so was my buddy. That early in the morning, people commuting on public transportation have a tendency to already be aggravated with the hustle and bustle of trying to get to work and make other bus connections on time. So, naturally, there begin to be grumbles coming from the few passengers, complaining that the young man was going to make them late to their destinations. Some of the passengers were down-right rude and the bus driver told the young man that he couldn’t let him ride without paying his fare. The young man pleaded with the bus driver, telling him that he didn’t have that far to go. When he didn’t receive a [polite] response from anyone and the bus driver refused to allow him to ride for free, he reached in his pocket for what I thought would be to put the dollar bill back and get off the bus. Instead, the young brother pulled out a gun. He pointed it at the bus driver and said, “Alright mothafucka, keep driving then, don’t stop until I tell you to and if I see you do anything stupid I’mma put a cap yo ass.” I immediately started wondering if it was too late for me to move to the back of the fucking, death trap ass bus. I watched in horror as the assailant turned around and surveyed the bus for a seat. Wouldn’t you know it, brotha-man chose to sit in seat number one, right next to me; cramping my style like a motha. All of a sudden, his ass wasn’t so cute anymore.

I can recall exactly what I was wearing that day. I had on a pair of white silky short-shorts with blue stripes, a silky, blue Izod shirt, some white sneakers, and a pair of booty socks with the little fuzzy blue ball on the back. When he sat down and put the gun against my leg, all I could do was not breath and dream about the back of goddamn bus and how I wished that I hadn’t been so stubborn and had gone back there in the first damn place; and that I hadn’t snuck and went to the amusement park and that I hadn’t done every bad thing that I had ever done in my entire life up to that point. More than anything, I thought about how my mom’s would kill me if she ever found out about this.

I don’t know how many people have experienced the paralyzing sensation of the cold steal of a gun’s barrel placed against their naked skin, but it isn’t a pretty feeling. I don’t care how tough you think you are, being faced with your own mortality breathes entirely new perspectives into your psyche…even if it’s just temporary. With that cold steel resting against my flesh, all I could do was envision what would happen if he used it on me. I began to imagine what I would be willing to do and what I would not be willing to do if it came down to being shot. I immediately begin to shiver as all the possible fates that could befall me ran rampant in my mind. I looked across at my friend who had a look on her face that said, “Goddamn girl, I’m glad I’m not you.” Shit, our little smiles and giggles were gone with the night before now a very distant memory, and all I wanted was to get my ass to the back of the bus. In my pitiful attempt to appear unfazed by my predicament and explain my shivering, I actually had the nerve to say out loud, “Whew, it sure is cold in here.” My buddy just looked across at me and shook her head. I was actually sitting there trying to pretend that I wasn’t afraid; for some reason, I did not want that thug or anyone to know that I was shivering out of fear.

I looked around at the other passengers which included a handful of men who looked pissed off but, were smart enough not to do or say anything, and a couple of older, Hispanic women who were crossing themselves with their rosary beads and praying. They all seemed to be looking at me as if to say, “Mm hm, should have taken your black ass to the back of the bus.” Was I imagining those expressions? I didn’t have long to think about it because I was suddenly startled by the young man as he jumped up and started yelling profanities at the bus driver, who, by the way, looked just like Benny Hill. He accused the bus driver of pushing a button and then hit him in the back of the head with the handle of the gun. The bus driver appeared to be losing consciousness while the mammoth vehicle was still in motion. As the bus began to swerve and spurt from the driver’s loss of control, the young man lost his footing and pure pandemonium broke out. The male occupants took advantage of the assailant’s stumble and rushed his ass. As they fought frantically to overpower the assailant for control of the gun, I used that moment to try and be a hero and rushed to the door of the bus, which, incidentally, I would not have been able to do had I not been in the front of the bus after all, thank you Rosa Parks; irony.

My heroism was short lived when the bus came to a haphazardly, abrupt stop and the jerky movement caused me to fall head first into the bottom of the stairwell. Being in such an awkward position, I was unable to push the freaking door open and everybody who wasn’t trying to wrestle the gun from the thug was yelling at me, “Open the door bitch. GET THE FUCKEN DOOR OPEN YOU BITCH!!!” As I was screaming back at them that it wouldn’t open, out of nowhere I heard the sweet swooshing sound of the handle that operates the door being pulled and the voice of the bus driver yelling at everyone who was yelling at me, screaming to them that the door doesn’t open unless the handle is pulled.

When the doors flew open, yours truly was the first one out…only, it was head first and all those who weren’t still engaged in wrestling the assailant for the gun ran right over my ass, “Ouch, oh, AAAHHH, MAMAAAA!!!” I yelled out; I was in some serious pain, sore, bruised, scratched up, but, nothing was broken or in need of stitches. I finally made it to my feet and did a quick study of my surroundings. I don’t know where everyone had gone so quickly, but time was of the essence. The bus had come to a stop in the middle of the street, right smack in the center of a city block. I began looking for the quickest shelter to shield against any potentially stray bullets. I spotted a bus bench at the end of the block to my right and took off sprinting as fast as I could down the pavement. At long last, I made it behind the bus bench and ducked, huffing and puffing all the while from the sprint. I looked over to my left where a sister wearing a nurse’s uniform, who wasn’t a passenger on the bus, was ducked down as well. She explained to me that she happen to be walking by and noticed through the window of the bus, several hands in the air, gripping the forearm of someone who had a gun in their hand and she took off running for the nearest shelter. Unbelievable. Moments later, we heard footsteps rapidly pounding the pavement and profanities being bellowed out. I peeked over the back of the bus bench to see what was going on. Damn! It was the thug headed in our direction. I was afraid as he got closer until I noticed that he didn’t have the gun any longer. He was disheveled, tired looking, and actually had the nerve to seem pissed off. I cautiously started to rise, peeking over the bus bench one inch at a time. Eventually, I saw that all of the other passengers had regrouped and were standing near the bus, including my friend. Damn, I had forgotten all about her. She was probably one of the assholes who ran over me while running off the bus.

Police started to arrive, “No he didn’t.” I thought, “The bus driver had pushed a button or something. Jerk, he could have gotten me killed!” The media and lookey-loos started arriving and the other passengers were already exchanging numbers and talking about lawsuits. “Lawsuit?” I said to myself. There was no way that I was going to stick around and speak to detectives or reporters, let alone talk about lawsuits. No way. There was absolutely no way that I could allow my mother to find out about what happened to me today because then I would have to explain last night. Nope, not me; even after the paralyzing feeling of having a gun planted against my flesh, I was more afraid of what my mother would do if she found out what I had been up to. My buddy and I asked the bus driver to just give us transfer to take the next bus; he looked at us as though we were insane but, gave us the transfers and we had our asses on the next bus heading home.

After boarding the bus and giving the driver my transfer, I thought about which seat I should take. The first seat was open and so were the seats in the back….this was going to be a tough one….but, I made a decision and took a seat on the bus.

While the transfer bus rolled down the boulevard, I gazed out the window in dismay as I saw a familiar form taking shape as the bus got closer to it. It was him, the thug! All I could think was, “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Thankfully I didn’t have to open my mouth because the thug didn’t make an attempt to board the transfer bus.

Thankfully, my mother never found out about what I had been up over those twenty four hours and I didn’t tell her until I was older and knew that I was too old to get my behind beat. I wish that I could say that I had learned a lesson but, after all, I was a very lively and energetic teenager….

Which seat do you suppose I took on the transfer bus?