Background Noise.


When he dialogues with her in the background, I feel like scratching my own fucking ears off as if they were sinful eyes in need of gouging out. He talks to her as if she is less than human and definitely nothing like a woman. He has imbedded his scornful and hurtful words into her head and not only changed her opinion of herself, but he has also taken the drive in her right out. I am not sure at what point she crossed a line of no return, but it definitely happened.

There are days when our random conversations somehow mold into her claiming her ugliness like a broken badge of honor. There are times when she refers to herself in third person as if the person she is talking about is three people from the edge. She’s at the edge but she’s also not going to jump….although there are times where I wonder if she has ever thought about it. One of my favorite homemade sayings, which was taken from a poem I wrote, is “It aint suicide if you can fly.” But if you can’t fly…..if your wings have been pushed into the ground where the worms and bottom feeders have deducted every feather from being attached, if you jump, it might just be suicide. And sometimes, I wonder how many times she has taken at least one foot off the ground.

Remembering the years I spent fighting and arguing with a man over my right to breath….my right to BE…..to exhale and inhale without it being such a big issue….remembering how angry my reflection had become….how I would stand in the mirror and bawl out crying, snot and tears pitching themselves off my face and into oblivion…..i remember how hard it was to find me again. I remember how stuck I was….how I would not leave for one reason or another, but each reason being something so significant that it qualified me to stay for good reasons. #NOT. Remembering those days and that last year brings a dose of melancholy over me that is hard to rid myself of in a phone call. When I talk to her, I am like a child witnesses the reduction of my aunt’s goals and dreams.

Her legs are long. Her beauty is still there, although in her earlier years, she was a Fashion Fair make up lover who never went anywhere without her Plum lipstick. She had a bathroom fit for a queen with a long double sink and wall to wall mirrors. She gave herself facials and gave them to me, even when I didn’t want them and was too young to understand their importance. She loved me. She still does. She used to model and family says she used to sing and had one of the most beautiful songbird voices there was. I used to hear her humming the words to any Luther Vandross song and try to envision a glimpse of her singing in front of people, like maybe she should have gone on to do. She had a major crush on Luther and one of the easiest gifts to buy her was his new tape/cd. It was no fail assignment. She had so much life left in her. Even in her 50’s, 60,s, she was still a woman of amazing grace and beauty. She taught me things about womanhood that I received from no where else. Its only as an adult who occasionally finds herself wondering where she learned XYZ from that I realize a great deal came from her. She wanted a daughter. But she was with someone that I don’t think she could fathom being tied to in such a way.

And yet the anchor still holds her. The love left the port many moons ago and I think the only thing left is the footprints of what was once unconditional. She’s been berated….disrespected. …she’s been told she’s ugly….she’s nothing like she used to be. ….she looks like a tramp and no one, including her niece, wants to be around her. …..she’s been told she’s not sick when she was…..she’s been told what hospital to pick, how to park her car, where to put her mail….how to use her cane…..she’s been pulled from the mirror and thrown into it……pieces of her are probably still scattered along her bathroom walls.

How one could be so evil, so mean spirited and so anything but of God is baffling……or maybe the baffle comes in, in how one can stay around such, day in and day out…..or….maybe the true baffle is in how the beloved niece manages to still love the man who she hates how he treats her aunt. Her last remaining, seventy something year old aunt. The aunt who no longer believes there is anything beautiful about her. In easy conversations, the damage he has done to her becomes more and more evident the longer the call. Its like walking thru the park with a battered woman and suggesting she run like hell while you keep cover….and that battered woman just keep walking, one slow step at a time, with you. She no longer knows what freedom is or what it means…..hell, even she does, the fear that has now entered her existence in place of the strong, fuck you attitude that used to be there has altered her ability to see beyond the now. How would she move on? Where would she go ? What if she gets too lonely and no one comes over for days or weeks at a time??? What if she falls and there is no one there to help her ??? What if she can’t reach the phone or hear the door or what if she just needs some in house help ???? The saddest thing about getting older is the idea that no one will be there to help you when you need it…..

But to become institutionalized in a relationship that is deadly to your emotional capabilities has to be more damaging and scary than the POSSIBILITY that no one will be there when you are alone……her sisters have died and the one left is the hard ass but even she, deep down and not too far from the surface, wants her sister to pack up and leave……but he’s sick too……what if HE needs help….what kind of person are you if you leave a person who can’t read the words on his medicine bottle and has suffered (and survived) prostate cancer? ???

She has all but settled into letting her life end this way…..day by day, she sounds less confident that things will get better, whether its her health or just her living. Bits and pieces of her are still lying on the bathroom floor next to the empty tube of Fashion Fair Plum lipstick…….she wishes she had stopped to save herself years ago and maybe today wouldn’t be as it is……they are too old to throw punches…..so he slings words like IED’s that detonate on emotional contact. People say words only hurt if you allow them too…..

Clearly those people have the strength and will power of Goliath. Truth is, for LOTS of people, it’s not about “allowing” words to hurt……sometimes, words just hurt…..and before you know it, many years of hurtful words have passed and now ….all you know is to be numb from hurting.

I can’t help but wonder how often it is that she cries. Todays phone call that consisted of me and her, no three way, turned into a ménage trios of me, her and the background noise of him responding to things being said to me. His attitude, his interruption, his eagerness to argue pissed me off too easily. When she repeated my response to such, which I am usually able to contain, all I could do was shake my head on my side of the telecommunication while listening to him get even more fired up. All I wanted to say is STOP FUCKING WITH MY AUNT BEFORE I INTRODUCE YOU TO A BRAND NEW ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But its hard to do that

When you love people the way I do. And how, on Gods green and un-green Earth, I am still able to love this man….as my uncle….as one of the only uncles I’ve ever had any real relationship with…..is like fighting with your reflection in the mirror…..there aint shit you can do to change it. 0_o  I mean I LOVE my uncle…..my uncle loves me…..he always has…..he still will drop everything to tell some old wacky ass story about me growing up on the race track with him.  He named one of his racing horses after me.  Kendria’s Killer. 

Ahhhh, the irony. 

But he loves me…..I am not in doubt or wonder of that….and I love him back…..my relationship with men has always been topsy tervy, so the undying love I have for my uncle, the same man who appears throughout this blog as a monster, will likely not be challenged by his actions……but his actions, by the same token, are challenging me.  Not my love, but me.

The woman in me.

The been there done that in me.

the why must you talk to my aunt like that me.

The WOMAN in me…….. and I meant to say that twice. 


Dear God,

May you continue to watch over my aunt. One day she will no longer be here with me. ….and that is one of the scariest days I look no forward to. But more scarier than her “going up to yonder’, is her leaving this earth, having lived these last decades as an emotionally battered and broken woman. Today, I heard it. I heard the defeat in her voice. I heard her body literally throw its hands up in the air and just say “auggghgghhh” …..she asked me to never let any man treat me the way my uncle treats her. I wanted to tell her, “I already have, but I ended up letting go 4 years later.” God I ask you that if there is any healthy way to keep my aunt here and keep my uncle here and yet not have them together, I ask your mercy to be. No woman deserves this treatment.

And especially not the long legged beauty with the crush on Luther Vandross that I have known all my life as my favorite aunt. May peace protect her mind.

May You protect her life.

And may I one day climb out of my shell and inspire her to just leave so she can finish LIVING while she still has life left.



Words I Never Said: Corrected.

“You know sometimes we ummm, we don't recognize our dreams inside
our reality and uh other times we're not aware of exactly
what's real ya know we walk around day dreaming but the sunshine, the sunshine always is....

2ndVerse (Marshia)
I used to depend on your eyes to show me the way that I should go
My reality is blurry I'm afraid of being all alone
Your light has been my guide throughout the good and bad
I wish that I had spent a little more attention to my one and only sunshine
Listen, I'd never leave you yo, I sweared on my grave
Damn what's that I'm feeling dizzy kinda getting faint
But it ain't nothing, didn't sleep that much last night
From watching over you but none less I'm cool I'm fine
I said I'm feeling fine so back up off me I'm alright
I'm here to see my friends and what's up with that blinding light
Said I don't need to lie down

I don't need your help right now
What's up with all the noises

all the running round
You've got it wrong

I'm not the one who needs the help in here
Yo, what's up with you, you're crying I see tears
Yo, what's going on, don't leave, please don't take her out
Said I don't understand, I'm kinda feeling scared now
I said it's getting hard to breathe

getting hard to see
\I'm not too sure anymore

what's going on with me
Please bring her back

connect me

talk just one more time
But it's too late the last exhale is mine

I just wanna see my lovely sunshine(Sunshine)
I just wanna bring back all of my blue skies
And if you take away my rainbow I will cry(cry)
Give me back my sunshine”

I can still vividly see that day that I put this song on repeat and sat on the couch that is in a landfill right now occupying space, and started writing down the lyrics to the second verse. This was one of my favorite songs at the time and the second verse is the verse that spoke heavily to me. It was hard. I felt childish to a degree, as I would go back and forth to the cd player, rewinding lines in hopes that I would pen it right. There was a mission to my madness:

I had planned to find a poetry open mic and spit this. It wasn’t mine. And I never thought anything about it. I wanted the audience to know this song. I wanted FLoetry to know, even if only thru waves of oxygen across the US, that this song had spoken to me. I wanted to share something. My grandfather had been dead for almost a year and after sharing a poem with a large funeral crowd of people and being told I should visit an open mic, I had become mildly obsessed with performing somewhere. I couldn’t lie to myself: What I felt from being up there, speaking past the proverbial 2 funeral minutes, was freedom. I felt like weight was coming off of me and although the weight of the pain of losing a loved one couldn’t be so easily erased, whatever happened up there when I ended that poem and started briefly talking about the man I knew as my grandfather, was exhilarating. It was different. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. What it was exactly, I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint so soon, but the depressed, half suicidal, totally unhappy young 23 year old that resided in me at the time NEEDED it to stay alive. And only time would tell her that.

In the meantime,

I kept rewinding until all those lyrics appeared on my page and even as I did this, I became more connected with the song. I was hearing different parts I hadn’t so intently paid attention to before. I was channeling this second verse and this chorus into my life. The intro portion of the song was what initially drew me into it.

“You know sometimes we ummm, we don't recognize our dreams inside
our reality and uh other times we're not aware of exactly
what's real ya know we walk around day dreaming but the sunshine, the sunshine always is.... “

Our living room was huge. Open. The couches were only a year old and were still in pristine shape. The television was 40 inches, UBER large but perfect for a living room of that size. The patio sliding doors always ushered in bright amounts of light, but I had begun keeping them turned in a way that it blocked out all sunshine. There was no living room table. The couches sat too far apart for it to be cohesive. The walls were slightly bare. There were no end tables. The open space of the living room made for a great dance zone when I was in the mood. But the mood of those days had been consistently sour filled. I was living inside of a big ass open casket.

6850 Brendon Way Drive.
It had become my tomb.

And Myster didn’t like the tomb, so he barely came that way anymore. At this point, my life as I knew it felt like a daily reminder of the worst shit that could ever happen to anyone. And all I wanted was to leave. I was carless, phoneless, jobless. I felt poor, lonely, abandoned. I felt unaccounted for. Like death would be a welcome party that I waited on an invite from. It was difficult. It was hard. But I had not let go of the power of an open mic. I knew I was going, I just didn’t know when or where. But I would have a poem ready for it. And it would be these words, spoken by the Floacist.

I used to depend on your eyes to show me the way that I should go
My reality is blurry I'm afraid of being all alone

My tomb was silently deafening. The alone time, the lack of ability to leave or even call out for help was driving me insane. It felt like forty days of night or maybe solitary confinement. When I would hear him finally turn the key, after days of being missing, a sense of brief relief would come over me. “Maybe he’s coming to take me somewhere.” It never ended up as such. He always left without me. So it was just, my new dog and my tomb of never-ending slow death.

Your light has been my guide throughout the good and bad
I wish that I had spent a little more attention to my one and only sunshine

I had nothing but time on my hands. Nothing but time to think, over think, ponder, go over in my head,etc.……It didn’t take much to realize how many eggs I had put in the basket I thought he and I were weaving together. I put about 3 dozen in there. When it was all said and done, they were all returned to me broken; some without their yolk. I just wanted to go backwards to the day before I ever sat on his lap and let him enter my world.

Listen, I'd never leave you yo, I sweared on my grave
Damn what's that I'm feeling dizzy kinda getting faint
But it ain't nothing, didn't sleep that much last night
From watching over you but none less I'm cool I'm fine

When he would come home and stay, I would sit up and watch him breathe. I would try to fit my body in the nook of his during the times that he didn’t come home arguing about bullshit. In my mind, as much and as badly as I wanted to leave, I wanted to stay even more. I wanted it to be so simple. That we could grow up together and look backwards on those days and laugh. But too much had happened.

I said I'm feeling fine so back up off me I'm alright
I'm here to see my friends and what's up with that blinding light
Said I don't need to lie down

I don't need your help right now
What's up with all the noises

all the running round
You've got it wrong

I'm not the one who needs the help in here

He would always tell me I needed to get some help from someone. He was thinking more professionally. He thought all the crying I did was funny and at best, a mental problem. What I needed, was for someone to see something in me and help me out. I had no help. I needed someone to say, I love you. I needed someone else because I had exhausted myself trying to provide it for myself day in and day out, but to no avail. I needed convincing that I deserved better than what was happening in my life. But few knew. Outside of the ppl that “assumed” things, no one really knew what was happening in that townhouse. Well, the neighbors knew. The neighbors definitely knew and ironically, one of the neighbors was my ex-boyfriend before I met Myster. His roommate was more concerned with getting in my pants than offering a helping hand….but why should he have??? I would have just said I was ok. As a matter a fact, I did tell him more than once, I was ok.

Yo, what's up with you, you're crying I see tears
Yo, what's going on, don't leave, please don't take her out
Said I don't understand, I'm kinda feeling scared now
I said it's getting hard to breathe

getting hard to see
\I'm not too sure anymore

what's going on with me
Please bring her back

connect me

talk just one more time

I was just lost. All I could do was cry, and cry some more. When I was writing the lyrics to this song down and bracing myself for my debut on the mic, I would cry. I would cry when the music would start, because I knew what she was about to say. And how closely I identified with it. I knew I was sick of this shit. But I had no way out. The lonelies had literally stolen me from me and I sat back and watched. He never noticed that the woman I had become was not even a shell of the woman I used to be. I was nothing more than a nuisance on his eyes and he was nothing more than the person I wanted to show how to love me properly.

But it's too late the last exhale is mine

I never did perform that piece. I ended up writing all of it out, but never did it publically. I was too shy. By the time I had become introduced to the world of open mics, which was only a couple/few months later, I had decided to return with an original piece. I started writing more than I ever had before with the full intent that if I were to perform something, it needed to be mine. At least the first time. I felt like I had something in me to say. My first poem on the mic was called The Conversation. And when I got finished, a rush of emotions quite like the ones from the funeral, had returned. That freedom. I still couldn’t pinpoint what it was at the time. But it would only take a few more graces to the stage before I figured out what it was: Freedom.

A personal freedom unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

My addiction started immediately.

Despite the highs and lows, I have not stopped since. That was 2003.

This is 2013.

Its been ten years.

I’ve experienced a lot, done a lot, been pissed on, pissed off and laughed the entire time. I am no longer that scared, shelled up young woman in search of true love in the wrong closet. I am ten years older. 20 years wiser as compared to. Still without my grandfather and will forever be missing him. And still listening to Sunshine.

It was less than a year before my voice got completely in the speed of the flow of the mic and out 6850. The tombstone. The dead part of me stayed there.

For all I know, she is still around.

But the me that was in there, picking and screaming and kicking to get out, even if it meant thru someone else’s words, has blossomed into someone who won’t dare let another muthafucka silence her or tell her/show her (whether it be by actions/words or subconsciously) what she can and can’t do and/or who she IS or ISNT.

Know that no matter what one may think about me, and I know there are people who think some things…..hell, I think some things about some people, so its only fair…

But know that at the end of it all, I know exactly who I am.

Finally.....the only thing i REALLY want to do besides be an accomplished WRITER, is INSPIRE the hell out of everyone to do whatever it is you want to do....to use the opportunities you have been granted and parlay that into the next step.  To LIVE. ....if i die, having inspired a boatload of people, i will sincerely believe i lived a good life.  If anything i do fails to inspire, i will have wasted a moment, a chance and a prime opportunity.  Believe what you may, but i remember everything that happened in my life pre-jY.  Pre-nsay......and it aint pretty...but its real enough to keep me wanting to INSPIRE.

You may have met me, but i know me.

I am Kendria Travonne “januarieYork” Smith. I used to go by nsaychable, but I outgrew her ass. She still had leftovers from the tomb. As much as I lose, I will win. As much as I win, I will fail. As much as I fail or win, lose or rejoice, I will LIVE…..

I will breathe.

And I will never let anyone take the light from within me again.

I will see my lovely sunshine.



The last exhale is indeed mine.





I decided I really don’t have anything I want to say right now.



girls just wanna have fun.




The Real Truth. #1

Tell the real truth
You still think about me don’t you…..
I still visit your dreams…..
Entering thru the small crack between your eyelids
- Just underneath your lashes
My perfume sizzles inside your nostrils
Making your nose hairs breeze back and forth
I become the oxygen for the duration of your sleep
Tell the truth
You still think about me …..too
Tell me you still remember the way we made love
Like boundaries were broken steps,
Skipped by the rock of our bodies, ……our kisses weren’t just lip glued, they were explosions of underworlds, daring the rest of the mankind to stare wildly at how we bonded …..
Our in and out was more like a live and let go…..let go and live
When you would go in, I’d live….
When I felt you alive, I’d let go….
Pulsating wrists keeping body temps rising to –
-fists, full of hair…sheets…
We would burst orgasms that should have required NASA approval to happen,
Tell me you remember us laughing in the living room
Tell me you still got the rest of the pictures that I only hold one of
Tell me we weren’t just kids
Just reckless kids, pretending to be adults,
Doing grown up shit like tomorrow was a game to play
We decision made against the grain and carved dead ends thru a rain forest that we used to keep each other covered in
Covers balled up on beds, sleeping on different sides, my eyes wide, yours tight and lost ….
Somewhere else
But not like the nows…..
Tell me the now still includes me breaking thru the dawn of how your brain dances when the rest of your body is at ease …..
Tell me you are at your knees to me
Not to her
That you held our first
Not our worst past
Tell me
That I am not just a figment of burned imagination
That I am more than a repressed memory stored on a floppy disc
Ain’t nobody got no time for this, tell me I’m not a mistake !!! …..
A mistake…..
After all the ones we made together
Tell me I….. was not a mistake
And neither were you
…..tell the truth, we were meant to be something but fucked it all up trying too hard to be nothing. ….
And accomplishing just that…..
…..tell me,
You still dream of me….
You still think of me…..
It doesn’t have to be….
Just sometimes…..because I only think of you sometimes…..
and that’s only because true love never dies
And only briefly,
for a second so short and so quickly moved along,
I wish for you
To tell me
You still love me,
even if that makes you a fool
that you still dream of me…
that you still think of me,
tell me THAT ..
is the real truth.


No Matter What Happens


Please don't leave me.  

This isn't a world made for life without us
as a duo
this isn't a life made for me
without you as my teammate
even when our arguments come from nowhere

and the silence seems never-ending

even when days blend into the nights
and the celebrations are minus one or the other

There is no dispute
no exception to the rule

i am less the woman i was created to be....
without the world presence
of my mother.

So please.

Please do not leave me.  

********Death travels in three's.....and i've already hit the number 2 button....honestly,  in the recent weeks, i began wondering if was to be the number three.....those thoughts shifted to wondering if i would have to deal with someone in my family, which there is no one left that would't cause me extreme hurt and pain....i've been heavily on my karma lately, both good and bad....i've been guilt ridden by some things and worried about other things....i've been so blessed and so rewarded that it makes me fear what the "down" will be, that i know will eventually come because what is an up without a down??? .......my mom and i have the worst relationship sometimes.....its every thing other than what it should be....sometimes, even though i refer to them as TheFiringSquad, i am so jealous of her and my grandmother, because they have the relationship i wish we had.....they talk, share, are there for each other, go to dr appts with each other, etc, etc.....me and my mom, are secret keepers.....bee keepers with stingers all over us from each other....i have not been the best of daughters....she has not been the friendliest of mothers.....but i don't think for a second our love for each other can be challenged....my mom has gone thru breast cancer and the trials and tribulations that come with it and after it for some years now and i was not apart of her recovery.....i was not even aware as to what was going on.....today i found out my mom went back to the hospital this morning.....she was there last night and i spoke to her.....i dont know what is wrong....it could be minor....it could be anything......but i hate hospitals....i fear hospitals and i know hospitals are where people often go for something tiny and leave out in a big ass hurst..... so i stay fearful the minute i find out a loved one is at one, esp in an emergency situation.......could it just be the flu ? Of course...it could be minor.....i have prayed...i have asked for prayer....and i don't doubt they will be answered....but i live sometimes in the harsh reality of truth as we know it: something that is NOT our friend......and truth is, according to MY beliefs, whenever our number is up, its up....no amount of prayer or promises or tears will stop the inevitable..........i will leave it right there because i do want to watch what i speak into existence....but.....my mom.....as much as we love to hate each other, this is just not a world i want to be in without her living and breathing in it with me.  And i just needed to put that out there for the universe and God to be able to read.  My mom.........needs and wants to be here.
Praying to God that this is all minor and will soon passover. 

KendriaTraVonne Smith.