THE unfavorable characteristic

I’m a passion-less feign. I marvel in my inability to own a memorable gait, act the part of a diva. I’m insane, with bursts of horrid reasoning, when summoned for my my singular madness, becoming morose and pathetic. Stuck in the cerebral world of enlightment, my outlet is my pen, not a senuous hip swing. I only lean towards brains and eyes and lips more intelligent than mine. I’m sorry. I just insulted a few people. I can’t swirl my hips your way  boy( actually I can, but I make manifest the existence of  a head muscle before that of a joint’s loose-ness), to get your intention, but I can regale you with  the honey at the tip of my pen, entertain you with the thrusts of voluptuous locutions, and charm you with my lips. I can tell you things you have never heard before, but I havent found a way to show them yet.

-Aaliyah Abdul-Haqq

To stay

Its been a while
But i cant get over that winning smile
As dusk approaches tears well in my eyes. I can’t disguise your lies in my eyes. There’s no pretending you made a mistake when the love you risked was three years long-to long to forget.
I think I hate you for dying. I know I love you for trying to stay forever.

Dear Dictionary …love, a scholar

Really, and truly the only reciprocal adoration i’ve encountered has been with you, Webster Dictionary. I’ve certainly liked many boys, but most, the unforgettable ones, are those  whose brains are more attractive than any row of abs available! And of course, even though they didn’t find me worthy of their attention, YOU  let me study you. You didn’t mind my breathe against your cheek or my fingers on your skin. So why do they? Why can’t the boys with pretty faces (not that I don’t admire your red leather) desire my company as much as you do?
                    Forever my love to you
                                                 

Beautiful heroes promising the impossible to kings’ daughters

Beautiful heroes promising the impossible to kings’  virgin daughters . Roses protected by thorns they are, but still, twists of hair are sent to and fro by romancing lovers. Imagine sweet meats and  earthy truffles in baskets riding up Rapunzel’s golden lockes or perhaps in Pochahontas’s long stygian tresses a feather of quality will be placed by some handsome jocular fellow

Melodydramatic 6/19/12

Is it a good thing that I don’t sing?
That my heart has stopped thumping and only beats to beat? One day though someone else will force it into my throat once more, only to let it fall to the pit of my stomach.

Please shoot silence. Please slaughter love, but let me live.

              let me weep
             let it seep
             into my stem
          slip from my hem
     be crushed beneath my heel
    and let its tough skin peel
     Oh, how I hate love
                      -also to Luca, by Aaliyah Abdul Haqq
         

Side effects of sorrow, to Luca

Have you ever tasted sorrow?
There’s no tomorrow
No matter how you jump
You’ll never reach that high
After the blow that knocked you down
You’ll lay like a clown
Forever waiting to drown
Please, please my loud quiet moans
Please dear angel,sweet Luca say
Goodbye with a smile.
But don’t beguile
Me into thinking your heart beat
With fervent heat
For poor sorry
  Me

Physical creativity versus Cerebral creativity In Academics…Orsomething of the sort

To dismiss creativity now will only slope the south facing hill  called society more. I ‘ve come to realize that by homeschooling us, my four siblings and I, our mother saved our creativity, making us useful in the re-development of the world’s modern, and currently corruptive, proclivities.
    I’ve seen intelligence undermined, because its not of the  essence of being ‘book smart’. Many public educators view creativity that can’t be expressed on pen and paper as useless. I think that rather than abnegate a child’s talent, place them in an environment that shares their form of intelligence. My mother, having five children ALL of different intelligences did just that.
I have a twin sister, and we are incredibly different in our brillance. She has a nitch for emotion and character, a hand that draws superbly well, and an eye for identifying varieties of personalities to a point where she can emulate it.She is a visual artist, a painter and a potential  actor. I , in the other egg (because we are faternal twins) can express myself rather eloquently through words on paper and voice, but the emotional aspect behind the words in rarely expressed in my range of tones. I am what many call an ‘intellect’ , rather than my body being my creative zone, my brain is, the body being simply a means of expressing my Brain. My Brain and my hands are truly the only body parts I could NEVER live without, in academic and creative terms,of course. My twin and I often discourse about whose creativity is more creative . She, like proffessors who think intelligence is purely academic, has this idea that creativity is entirely emotion expressed into visual or verbal forms, giving her the idea that writers , me at least , arent artists. I, being the creative-academic sort, turned it into a debate, in which case  I will certainly win , agrue the side of writers being artists, as well as artists being intellects. She, being the emotional sort argues that artists are physical beings. I win, by precisely saying, ‘Well ,all creativity blossoms from ideas, dancing included, and ideas are hardly physical beings’. She frowned, and walked away, leaving me confident that my point, though unliked, had been understood!

    I think that physical/”artistic” and  cerebral/”intellectual ” creativity is All the same , or at least made the same,  by the way it HAS to be expressed by the body inorder to share with other human beings.
Some people are also very stereotypical they co-relate  cerebral strength or creativity with callous college proffessors who speak in monotonous vocals, and physical expression with the conceited jocks from films who happen to do hip-hop , ballet or acting, when in actuality those ARE ALL OVER-EXAGGERATED MYTHS, or even better the product of a labeling society. A society where-in you’re ADHD if you can’t sit still, rather than a dancer, or you’re stubborn if math isn’t your stronghold instead of born with a better understanding of words and a nich for dreaming up the so-called impossible.
  Don’t we all realize that everyone in society we’ve called stubborn or put in a learning disorder category has actually been a genius? Say, Nicolaus Coopernicus, whose  helicentric theory was considered blastphemus ( somehow) in the fifteenth century, but turned out to be accurate . I say lets encourage children’s natural born abilities, teach them academically through  forms of expression that they show strength in and our future, that of the world will be in better hands. Creative hands or feet are always predicting the next move,  exactly what science textbooks ask of us. We are all geniuses, the world just doesnt cater ,in the academic department ,to all of us.
 

IN THE LAND OF FANTASTS : 6-19-12

There used to be the beat of a heart strong and alive-that of a fantast. But now the only thing I feel is the hurt of the empty oblivion you’ve left me in. I don’t know why I made you the color in my life. Now that you’re gone, forever i’m sure, its all grey . I don’t know why I gave you my lovely writing ,only to have it thrown back, crumpled and used- no longer fresh, alive colorful with hope of love and friendship. You’ve made barren the field of fantasies, leaving me to restoreit to its once fertile land .

        – Aaliyah Abdul Haqq,me!