Hotep the Artist "If It's Magic"

Valentine's Day Blind Date

          I listened to his voice over the line. I didn’t hear what he said. I felt it. Tones full of energy and light. Smiles and lips. I could…feel his lips as a part of his message. His voice was filled with promise and delight. He was black. I could tell by that tone. You know that big beautiful melanated tone we have over the phone. Its something deep within the diaphragm that utters a native frequency that sends an alert…ahem….for me to flirt. So! I sent him a message right back. Yeah I’m here and you sound cool as hell , I been workin all day I need massaged well. My body is brown and I’m so down. I even waited for my baby daddy in jail, I gave him 250 when he needed bail. I took out the dogs and collected the mail. Oh…that’s too much information on our first phone conversation.(me) What you doing anyway? On this phone so late. He told me about his travels and how he marvels at the world. And how there's so much more our there that he wants to unfurl…with this girl? Boy please, gon and send me a text. See If we can hold these good vibes from one day to the next. 
       I texted in the shower, and he texted on the street. I texted by the hour and wished that we could meet. He looked me up on Facebook and said how good I looked. Now I didn’t look him up, if I like his personality, why should I be shook? I didn’t know when I would see him next. But it was actually initiated by a text. We danced around the topic of Valentines and such. But I had to cut him off, he was talking too much. "Sure I can come over." 

       I arrived at the front door and remember I still don’t know what he looks like I coulda looked him up but look at the level of excitement and anticipation! We live in a nation where our questions are answered in immediate manifestation. But I had to be patient and use my other senses. Ones that no camera pic would hide with defenses.  After one minute or four. He still hadn’t come to the door. Then I turned by back to start down the walk…but that’s when I heard the lock. I stopped. And waited for the voice that I knew. He said you gonna give me the back of the head view? I couldn’t turn around yet but I giggled too. He turned himself too so we could be back to back. I peeked and took a look and this brotha didn’t lack…in the back…he was built like a tall stack…it was gonna be hard, not to let him break my back.
       So on the count of three we turned around and gave a big hug. So this was the dude on the phone that I dug. This is the man who deserved my valentine delight. I made sure he was okay with me staying spending the night.

        We walked upstairs and into his room. I was dressed in red and his shorts were blue. He said he wanted a massage, and normally I would dodge cuz I wait on no man, but I helped him take his t-shirt off. Squeezed the oil in my hand. "I'll warm it up if I can." I started to rub down the back of this big black man. Shiny fingertips and few deep breaths allowed us to let down our guard and give the judgments a rest. We were too adults, employed and alone. We braved it all the way to this point from a message over the phone. It just happened to be Valentines, who would have thunk? We were the perfect remedy to get out of that funk. We laughed and shared stories of dates gone bad and the things we wish we had done. We just admitted that we hadn't found the right one. I shoved my thumb, down the center of his spine and squeezed his obliques to let him know massage time was mine. 

      I remember collapsing over an armrest it was no contest, his fingers were the best. He was polite and didn't reach for my chest. He gave a mean collar bone rub I will never forget. These strangers in the night look like they might! I mean he's grown and I'm grown, and there wouldn't be a fight. But I don't care how hot it gets...I'm not gonna let my self get weak on the first night. But..I'm still sleeping here aight? The hours of touching subsided and by the rules we abided we slept cuddled up. Hope he enjoyed it as much as I did. "Boy you better move your hand." That wasn't part of the plan. This was one hard night for a grown black man. He sighed and and respected the queen of his dreams. We mentally connected, as innocent as it may seem. Neither of us felt rejected we woke up as a team. We conquered temptation and learned what love really means. Its not about a rose, or a holiday theme. It's about mutual respect for one another, leaving the rest up to our dreams.

#hoteptheartist

#peacenswagg

#universalartist

The Light

The Light

I am a survivor of the truth. See I was born into an environment where perception meant the most, deception was the norm, and half truths were enough to get you through to the next story. Maneuvering myself as a cyclist between pedestrians, I got to where I needed to go. Told folk what they need to know and what was true for the moment. Telling lies with my heart closed so that I couldn’t feel the effect it had on others. Scared of the consequences of telling the truth, and cowering at the idea of someone finding out the dark past I’ve lived and the places I’ve been.  So...I lied. And personally I hate liars, and you to do!

But they say..."judge not, lest you be judged," because we are all one blacklight away from exposing both violent and intimate stains in the hotel rooms of our lives. 

Now, what’s done in darkness eventually comes into The Light. What if you finally stare boldly into The Light? and dare The Light to peer into your crevices, and look into the cracks in all your stories. The Light that exposes those first draft text messages you got off your chest. That one with the profanity and the unfair accusations and the real shit you wanted to say to dude, and Thought you deleted...Cuz you decided to be above it all? Message sent! Because those worst thoughts were your first thoughts, The truth.  And truth is the only remedy for the sick tricks you spit off your tongue so quick. The Light accidentally sent that shit.

The Light. Even sniffs out the source of your halitosis approaches. Bad breath back behind the rotten ignored molars. Making your every word reek with foul intent. An audible stench. The choking aroma causes victims faint into a bullshit coma. The Light unhampers your dirty laundry. It can tell the real smell through the Febreeze you’ve been spraying. Faith that it really does eliminate the odor. When odor is evidence of the filth that exists within the very fibers of your being. The Light is like the irrefutable refreshing scent of GAIN. Gaining back the confidence under your pits. Gaining back the honesty that is between your legs, washed in your rags, and hung to drip dry as you cry in your life. The Light can dry your fears.

When you finally open your eyes, The Light is there to show you, and to grow you. It embraces you as you shudder at the cold hard truth. Could have had a heart attack as you turned your back to take an in depth look at your own nutrition facts. First ingredient. Water…watered down details. They won’t float any more with the new revelations of self. See I found The Light that turns the world on to Honesty. Lashes separate when the solar energy reaches your solar plexus, and ignites an internal flame that charges you enough to wake up! No eye shut. Shedding the Light on the situation brings about a transparency initiation. Starting with compliments on the street, then maybe giving up your seat because The Light showed you an opportunity to bless somebody. Come on somebody...

There ain’t one of us who’s made it here on our own well doing. We all got skellies in the closet, webbies in the corners and crusties in the corners of our eyes until we realize who are we to judge? What if I gave you the nudge, tapped you on the shoulder and told you I was there when you thought you were alone. That I could find you the suspect of an offense that nobody knows yet. Guilty of a Pre-crime. Who can make the judgment calls?  They appoint a jury of your peers to go into the other room, barehanded, close minded and decide your fate. For once, I want each of these unqualified members to a look in the mirror, noticing the flaws of their own reflection. A collection of secret things about themselves sitting up high and dusty on the shelf. Walking out of the room humbly giving up their position to pass judgment on someone else screaming for self help.

......So I’m a survivor of the truth, straight up avoided it in my youth, now I share with you my epiphany so you can put it to use.

Hotep

Underwear Underwire Overstanding

Hotep the Artist on Breasts 

I want to talk about boobs. Yes I feel like talking about titties, because. Look we all have them in one form or another and the media got so many of us fighting the laws of this planet. No fa real. Like we are earthlings down here and the gravity we live by is purposeful and individually different for each one of us. There are pressures and vacuums happening all over earth. So gravity strikes people differently, not to mention genetics and exercise and diet but so what?! For whatever reason many of our breasts decide to go with the flow and hang low. For centuries women have been breaking their backs to pick them up with girdles and bras and straps and wires and elastic daily just to keep them from their doom. Men?! What do men have to do with this ritual? What deity from which celestial body came down and made men want these anti-gravity Victoria's Secret angel titties? Curious enough to try looking at them, fake or real, men and women are drawn and drooling over these wonders of the world. Whether you're a real man or a down to earth girl you find yourself glued to these too!

But naturally. We are relieved to snap of our bra at the end of the day. We feel mentally freer without the bondage of bra straps. But are we redefining free? I was in a relationship where my man did not see me without my bra on if possible. Yes it gets like that. I was freer without him seeing my true form. That was free? I wanted to say Baby mine aren't like the ones on TV and if you don't like what diet and genes and the affects of gravity have had on me, I don't even want to know that you don't approve so I'll just keep hiding their natural hang so that Barbie and I will look more like the same. mmm Mmmm. mmmm That's not right. But I began to look in the mirror and I love what they are. Who's they are. They are mine! I think breasts are great. 

They are hilarious and divine, 

and through life they can be redefined 

as life givers through suction 

and love tremors through seduction. 

Treat them kindly, because cancer is a thief. And the left one guards your heart. Even if they are small they are powerful and apart of you. So caress and undress and release them to be free. Whenever and wherever you decide for them to be.

Peace

Hotep the Artist
RP from 8/12 www.trualityradio.blogspot.com 

Actress, Poet, Universal Mime Artist, Event Hostess, Radio Show Co-host. 

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#breasts #cancer #selflove #beauty

Liquor Lyrics #imjustsaying

How is it that liquor somehow seems to make it into the lyrics of the most popular songs? There always has to be a glass of something or a bottle of something with a name mispronounced in order for the dude to describe the woman like the baddest chick he's ever seen in his life. Tellin everybody what she's wearing. 6 inch Stilettos!  Leggings shaking like jello! Weave down her back, Showin her bra and her rack! See I'm not even gonna take y'all there..... y'all got like 4-5 songs in your head along them same lines and lyrics right now!   Dats them liquor lyrics! And look, got tons of women out here buying up that costume too. To get noticed...like the rest of the women out here rockin the same "I told you so" look. Like duh! He's cheating on you...cuz y'all frickin look alike…”Her?”….yeah her! U need to just be you and rise above all that. ...Those liquor lenses are what got folk smacking themselves into brick walls, court dates, and jail cells, right now. #leaveitoutoftheequation #thatonesfree #peacenswagg #360 

Hotep the Artist

Actress, Poet, Universal Mime Artist, Event Hostess, Radio Personality
Follow Me...hoteptheartist @ everywhere
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#pittsburghnewworks #poetry #poets #spokenword #rhymes #life #write

Sperm Stories

There were so many of is darting and jolting around this warm scrotum. And we all looked alike. Some had lighter tones and others were bigger than the rest but there we were…sperm. My brothers and sisters really. They looked like me and we…looked like God. God was our creator. We aren’t sure where He is but we are sure He’s why we are…waiting in line. I have been waiting for hours to come…Now getting out is one thing but then the odds of dying upon re-entry into the realm of life is so slim. But believe it is going to be me. I’m going to get out of this world and on March 29^th there will be a new world for me. I know its over 10 months away but we’ve been told that our group ascends today. I will be an Aries. Of course no one really knows the day or the hour. But I’m on my way. We hear fairytales about what happens on the other side. I hear there’s a dark tunnel and then a bright light. no one knows for sure. Its not to be better than this world of black. Where my brothers and sisters are fighting one another. Don’t you see? We’re all the same! God made all of us, sure one can dance and you can act, and you can draw..wow….look at all y’all…aight… Let’s make a deal. Whoever we encounter in this sac we immediately love without knowledge, without fault or poundage. We will share our talents! Rub up on me and let me see how much of a genius you can be. Then whoever is chosen to ascend will bless their new world with the powers and strengths and riches of all of us. Brilliance.

I watched my old soul mates cease movement…right next to me…I observed fresh versions of myself in the current going what seemed to be the wrong way, but they were right on their soul’s path.

When God’s mind called my microscopic name. and I became..The fastest most agile swimmer. I was the winner. I was eager and excited and submissive to the current. And with me, I brought all the talents needed for my survival.

God’s love is free? It Can't Be.

God’s love is free? It cannot be. Because it sure did cost lives for me to be here. Let me be clear. Millions of swimmers had to die for me to survive. It cost their lives. They were my first competitors. I must have passed up the DNA strand that could sing fa real. Cuz that wasn’t my calling in life. No record deals. But…because I was born a human I have access to the divine Creator. I can create artwork from ideas and I’m a thoughtful negotiator. I have every reason to fight everyday. I have motivational check points encouraging me along the way. Salvation is advertised as “FREE! Just receive it and believe it and its yours!” I don’t want to hear about how many believers we have in the building. I want to see the doers. Earning their salvation daily. He died in our stead to pay a debt you cannot repay? YES….YOU CAN! You just don’t want to die, for your Savior the way He died for you. Cuz “Now we don’t have to.” And excuse me? Who are you? Free! Free! Free? Free to put in the work, swim and twerk... Birth wasn’t even free. During ejaculation I beat my brother and my sister swimmers right next to me. I declared when it was time for my entry.

Pick up dat BIC...when the pen takes over.

Monday’s To Do List. October 15, 2012

Listen to music. Study your ass off! You should be writing these lyrics down! Let’s go! You are late! Remember? You are 25 and have I been knocking at your door for years now. Behold I stand at the door and knock. Stop hitting your alarm clock. Snoozing 9 minutes later I come back with a bruising. A bigger wake up call. You must need to hit rock bottom to get up from ya fall! Sirens swirling for you to get up outta bed, eyes open wide. 3^rd one’s in the middle not the side. Open ya mind. Feels so good to scratch that itch. Answering ancient questions and let freedom ring like a bell. Who gon tell you to be yourself? They always pushing you to look like and think like everybody else. Well… its time to shape up and get my act together! I gotta wake up my mind. So we can build together. Power of will together. Give for the better, deliver the letters of recommendation that stir a nation with an everlasting impact on future generations.

Notes I Wrote Dec 12, 2012

Leave me alone and stop talking to me. Get out of my face. Find something to do or another TV to watch or go to the bar. Or go fuck some girl. But leave me out of it. I feel crazy and alone I’m tied and connected to a man who may never be my help. I don’t want to lose a legacy because of him. I do know how to pick them. But I chose love. I keep choosing love. I am Loves daughter. I am laughter. I am warm. I am Sun and I am storm that teaches her survivors that they are more than that.

A Dark Day Nov 30, 2012

I cornered Self. Cuz she tried to run. My thoughts keep racing and I’m escaping myself. My shadow chases me down. I’m dodging my reflection. I don’t want even want to be alone with him. And his illusions. He was never even here. To listen to my stories of how I would starve my bleeding heart from feeding into his silver platters of deception. I have issues with entrapment. Letting go. An angry refusal to lose I’m so confused. I’m free right? But every night is a fight. I don’t know what is truth . If I told anyone they would say what’s the use? Cuz my man is an actor. He had me itchin like a crack whore. Mouth wide open. lips parted and a memory retarded. Slow. Accepting so much sexual information he dumps on her. She is too tired to separate or to file adequately so she then dumps, shreds, and buries the memories of her many daily deaths.

Ayo God. Hotep's Diary Entry #85

Ayo God.

Used to be hours and it used to be days that I’d walk in what I thought was strictly your presence. When it didn’t take two or three, All we needed was you and me. Me Me Me. I would speak loud to you in the wildest voices that cried from within me. The strange places and experiences within that I’ve been vulnerable enough to take in the burdens of. Those wretched life stories and their residue leaving me talking here to the rest of you…These life stories and scenes give their scars to me to wear and to carry and I thought I was made for such a job.

The victim created to carry shame and

It clings and stings and pricks at me like that dried up amoeba spikey thing
Only present in September the beginning of the Fall of mankind and minds
hibernate in front of their tv’s for winter. Don’t get me started.
That kind of brush that sticks to your corduroy overalls on your way  to ya first day of school. Uninvited guests clinging on to your new school outfit before anyone gotta chance to see it.

The generation emotional weight of your neighbor could break your back if we left it up to you to pick up the slack. It is time to relinquish the unhealthy unfruitful emotional attachments to stones of no importance to our past. For so long we’ve allowed these sewer monsters with too many eyeballs and too many tentacles shake you but you chose the least menacing of the options and you sought problem adoptions. Lay them on the alter and be free. Walk away from your pain and get off your knees. We are as thick and as brown as trees so, get off your knees ….and stand up…and look down at the little ones coming after you. And help them up too.

Hotep

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Life. Hoteptheartist

Hotep's Relaxation Technique- Diary Entry #253

I want to nap in the warm white sand and recover with all of my hundreds of adoring sand grain fans on my face. I want to sweat until the grains become dark and gather on my forehead. I would be a dirty child in the sand. I would…swim in the sand. Dig myself deeply in the sand and watch myself grow. Lower. I want to feel the chill of the ocean and first and then be comforted by the peace it brings. Rolling under my flexed heels and toes gone haywire. Not looking to be pretty  or accepted by sandals but to be spread open wide. Unbridled by opinions my feet should be free. Even if my pinky is but a triangle which it is and if my index toe was long which it isn't..but if it was so what? Who cares? Feet work hard for freedom. 

Why can’t I go away where no one can find me.
Where everyone I don’t know will find me.
I want to drive and to fly farther and go faster
and wish the wind wasn’t whipping me in the face
and then be so glad that it did. Thanks.

Some people go crazy wanting an alternate life to the one they are leading. They really try to change their reality. Does it work? Does it work for them to just be? This world does not honor just be. If you are just being then you are lazy. You are not productive and not earning and not increasing in ways that monetarily matter.

I miss the hammock. Thinking about the hammock makes me sad because it was the most relaxing time in my life. Why hasn’t anyone handed me a hammock? I haven’t gone through enough? Well excuse me. I thought the events in my life and the suddenness of my life deserved a hammock! I know that I can enlighten souls and I promise to get right on that after my month in a hammock. How can I be held? The hammock holds me and rocks me. She doesn’t care if its noisy around. She just wants to support me. Even the creek of the hinges nailed in the the knots of the tree are my luillaby. The remind me to be quiet. Shushhh baby…Hammock is my momma in the nursery. She tells me to be still and let the earth move me. Ohhow the earth can move me. The wind decides the cadence of my swing. In the hammock. Under Florida palm trees is where I gave it all to God. I ate my homemade turkey sandwich by the pool and I looked up at the stars which were already looking down at me and I was overwhelmed. That is a moment I will never forget.

Hotep