Changing Opinions on Miss Nicki Minaj #FoodForThought

This is a video that a friend introduced me that blew me away!! Poet Jasmine Mans shows audiences a different perspective to take when contemplating the character that is, Nicki Minaj. I have to attach the lyrics so readers can fully grasp the lyrical truth Miss Mans is presenting. I also want to post an article from Miss Minaj herself (via Vibe), who seems to be lost in a world of confusion and characters and who also fully understands her place to be....unknown. So, is it at all possible to compare the likes of Nick Minaj to that of Lauryn Hill??? I actually say yes only because of the fact that both of these women at some point in their career lost themselves. It is my prayer that just as Lauryn has, Nicki realizes the puppetry games and searches for something more, ultimately herself, Miss Onika Maraj.

///////LYRICS///////

By Jasmine Mans

You are being traded paper in exchange for you to be plastic

All Dolls will eventually mal-function

(I don't even know why you girls bother at this point like give it up, it 's me I win you lose)

Nicki MInaj,

(It's me)

I must admit

(Its, its me)

I have always been intrigued by your ass,

I guess that's what the world looked like after falling from your shoulders.

(Like give it up)

You have the heartbeat of a suicide bomber

A baseline breathing out of your pulse

Your thighs play storage for the weight of the world

I dreamed that you used to back packed, the lost raps, of Female MCs who could not find their way out the cipher

(Its just like I singlehandedly annihilated like every rape b**ch in the building)

Traded in your crown for unsharpened pencils and blank CDs

(Like give it up)

Do you ever feel a cord gripping on your neck, choke, spit?

Don't let this industry f**k the Assata out of you

(Harijuku-Barbie)

Can and will never be code for queen

You are a Queen no matter how many times they try to shuffle you back in tape decks.

Bi Sex, straight, you've earned my respect

(You da Bestest)

But I know your spine binds and crooked lines

And you can't seem to write a rhyme for your broken daughters

Slaughter, bent over back, ass cracked, b***h slapped, in videos

There is nothing pedal bike pretty about broken

Do you know what this media is trying to do to you?

They will porcelain

(Barbie)

Doll the s**tout of you

Leave you noose necked hanging from Zion they will Lauryn Hill you

The mis-education of a Barbie doll coming soon

(I just had an epiphany)

Barbie, I think NYC is making you forget you come from Queens

Its scary when you have wack MCs trying to ghost write your obituary

(You should buy a 16 cuz I write it good)

Your existence is not recyclable to me

(Barbie)

Stop spitting me toy stories

Of Woodys and Buzzlight Years who only come alive when no body is watching

Fake breast

Once upon a time before puberty and tissue filled training bras all little girls wanted a toy chest

What do you treasure? *

You have turned your G-spot into a land-mind

Dirty, disgusting

We have been waiting centuries for a woman like you to carve your stiletto in history

This microphone is not a dildo so you are going to have to cum a little harder than that,

(I, win, I win, you lose)

Come a little harder for rap

Too many women before you have laid down tracks -- UNIT...Y?

So you wouldn't have to record your on your back

Spit some s**tit for girls who kiss girls and got beat down to their backs

We will remember you for that

Lips sync your screams and remember your inflections and copyright your raps

MC

(Barbie)

For young money anyone can buy themselves their own ( I'm Nick Minaj, Nicki Lewinski, Nicki Barbie, the boss)

Crown, Vagina, Womanhood, and Talent,

All Sold separately

(Barbie)

You are being stabbed in the back

Inserted with a wind up string and a tag?

(R, R, R, Roger that)

Advertising At Its Best!

So...I came across an unusually creative advertisement for Nike. I found it bold and daring yet surprisingly meek and truthful. Women are forced daily to examine and magnify flaws built on awkwardly biased standards. I hate to sound cliche but it cannot be said enough: If you don't love yourself first, you will never be able to fully accept the love of another. #FoodForThought #ThatsAll

Dear Simplicity...

Blank Canvas

I’m trying to figure out where exactly I belong

In this puzzle of confusion

With pieces that don’t fit

And empty holes only caressed by the breeze

I’m silent and hopeful

Loud and regretful

Because I feel like I should be saying so much more

And you’re ultimately missing out on my reality

Which includes only you and I and a journey known to no one

But this us

So lets pretend that the situation wasn’t so complicated

And the darkness was just a shadow over the sun for a moment

I crave you with every fiber of my all

But my outreached hand is only appeased with words of maybes and far off possibilities

Allow me to understand what mystifies and clouds my perception

For my reception seems to have lost any signal of detection

Heartbeats and messy sheets drenched with the moisture of beautifully painful rain

Must I be the victim of this fortress hidden covered and under what I pretend to not be there

Can’t help but notice the shards of disappointment and dissatisfaction that are written on your body

Let me erase and rewrite but everyone knows erasers never get the job completely done

So imma tag me over every inch

With every stroke and color reviving and revitalizing a canvas never meant for just pencil

Deserving of only the most beautiful colors with the most gentle brush

Intricately designing and remodeling that which should have never been touched by the last amateur artist

My Monet style blends and Picasso type sweeping tickles and teases the spots that had been long forgotten by the latter

Clearly my intentions are true and my heart genuine

Understand that I would have never opened my spirit if I was not willing to share it completely

Once again I must then state

I am here…now what are you going to do??

Love Part II

Sometimes you see things from far off in the distance. As in your staring at a collision bound to occur yet the fear and panic of the moment prevents any sudden or preventive movement. Secretly you also anticipate the excitement of what exactly is next and what will be the final scene. This scene is before my eyes and I am looking at myself and this someone else. Colliding into an infatuation without reciprocation yet I cannot stop. My emotions seem to exceed a sound mind and I fall victim to the perils of a pool filled with words that I imagine could be said. After letting what was once an all-encompassing love go, I settle within the midst of a shallow substance--lacking that in which it is named. Substance. How could I really be that into someone that I barely know? Am I really the permeable membrane? Must I continue to occupy my existence with a pretend love to only mask my desire to be swept away in it? Then again, it may be possible that I speak to soon. The idea of there being a possibility to what I have already stamped impossible awaits in the distance. Accepting that I am me, and that love is what I do. How could I belittle my emotions to a simple infatuation when within me lies the complex subjugations of nerves intertwined to culminate something so unique and pure. There is no other love such as mine. Once enveloped, I survive from the spark in your eye and a smile that emits sun-like rays that flow through my spirit. Constricted respiration is only freed when I am near you.

Then again, this is too soon. You know not I, and I only know what you've shown to me. Before I fold back within myself awaiting to be awaken by the scent of another again, I see you. I stare and look within. This not love. Of course it isn't yet. But I understand that to be perfectly okay, because within this fictional body I understand. It is that I am in love with love and thus I survive and thrive. Aren't you happy that you could be the subject of my moment for the moment? Enjoy...

Untitled

Daily I float between confident portrayals of an immortal essence

Emitting rays of magical stardust like emotion

To loneliness drowning in the catacomb drudgery

of a pitiful existence

Sometimes my spirit overflows with the bounty of a treasure

unknown to anyone else but I

But within that treasure lies infinite gardens

Nourishing my all with abounding beauty and peace

To be blessed with such an overwhelming serenity

leaves me only to imagine an atonement unbeknownst that I must be indebted to by the stars

Then in those moments of utter darkness

I am encased by shadows haunting a past filled with

Occurrences unspeakable

Those instances when falling short would have been

something reached for

When my head permanently rested below the eyes of the horizon

And I hid in the confines of the blackness of an eclipse

Never again do I plan on returning

Yet the possibility of all

both left and right

up and down

dark and light

lies before me

Seeking truth in words and hope in peace

Wanting to be cloaked in the power of understanding and enlightenment

That in which I seek is within the frame of what I imagine

Thus attainable and indelible

I know better, so in that I must do

Love Pt. 1

I believe that there is a purpose for everything that occurs in life. This includes the people you meet, the relationships developed and the consequent reality that is created from these occurrences. It is funny that no matter how hard you may try to direct your life, the universe has its own way of distorting and reshaping whatever you may have believed to be real and true. I hate to always bring it back to love but since God is love, it ultimately is the beginning and the end of everything. So with that being said, I try to interrogate deeply what I see and feel love to be. The feelings that I posses towards someone in particular baffle all logical reasoning possible. Factually speaking, even the notion of letting go is impossible at this point. I discuss with my friends how I could never fall back for this person and how stupid I would be to ever even contemplate the notion of loving them again. I speak with confidence and a hint of arrogance in order to convince them that my words are concrete. But to myself, I cry. I don't know the exact reason I cry, but I do. If no one is around to see the tear fall, did it ever really exist? I say no, with hopes of refuting the idea of being trapped within the confines of loving that person. But in reality, it actually fell--more than once.

So now, I must face this predicament that seems to be inescapable. I am rejoicing and at the same time hurting. I am entangled in a web of words unsaid. I want so bad for them to share and know that I am here and how I have been here and how it looks as though I will never leave. Pathetically written, yet proudly spoken. I am in love with their love. As many times as I have tried to combat that statement with empty phrases of strength--I am weak. Their words make me melt and their seemingly genuine intentions penetrate the depths of my heart. I am lost within the maze of an unexpected heart gone mad. There are so many things I must say, because this state of utter helplessness in completely unacceptable, yet the peace of the moment won't allow me to interrupt.

Observation as an unbiased spectator would leave me sympathetic. Fortunately, this is my moment. I am here living, breathing, experiencing this, you and us. I both love and hate this love, yet I am captivated by possibility. I am living guarded but loving freely. Bystanders may have dream deferring advice but I am listening inaudibly because they are not within this. As I find my way I am making mistakes yet learning slowly. And I understand all of this to be okay, because reality is created daily so why can't I assist in the process?

It's Looking So Far...

See There's This Guy...

I usually start off with

"See there's this guy"

just to soften the blow

or make it a little more relaxed

And then I go on and on

like he is absolutely amazing

And you won't believe how

perfect he is for me

Then I began to describe

all the sweet things you do

How you make me feel

like I'm all you see

That I'm your one and only

and you could never picture yourself with another

But by then I have to

ambiguously use "they"

because "he" no longer feels right

Lying to myself and whoever

by classifying you to the ultimate right

But how could I when I love that

we are so far left

So I say how "they" tell me "they"

love me every time I need it

And how "they" make me feel like

I can do absolutely anything

Then how "they" gave me flowers

and I could have melted right there

Of course after so long

this "they" gets so confusing

Like of course its a "they"

because you are everything to me

and "they" fits perfectly

because I love all of you

even though its just a you

But you have to understand

that in order for them to "get it"

I must once again categorize

this love that belongs to no category

So for our sake

this what I must do

I want them to understand

that this really is a love like no other

And you complete every part of me

What I tried to hide--you found

And the complication of us

is now beautifully understood

by both you and I

So now how can I be so contradictory

because it's you that I love

No "he" could ever suffice

and your much too unique and

intricately designed to ever be

looked over as some "they"

I'm captured by your intelligence

Your strength defies earthly concepts

And clearly the world has stopped

and universe has turned completely

Because your beauty is without

verbal naming

I can only help but be in

amazement and awe

When I describe what and who you are

Only to me

Proudly mesmerized

I turn to them and finally say

"That's her"

Just Wondering

The reality of breaking ties and letting go remained constant and tediously repetitive today. Usually humans are plagued with memories that seem to incessantly haunt thought and consequent actions. When is the moment when unconscious desires finally fade into nothing? Then again, they say nothing lasts forever...so if that be so--Will you be my nothing?

Know It!! Before U Speak It

Stayceyann Chin "Feminist or a Womanist"

Refreshingly Old

I have been in an interesting mood lately. Recently, I discovered Pandora (late, i know) and have fallen in love with a particular style. The entire jazz/blues genre has enveloped my spirit and is drowning me in melodic rhythms never before felt. I've always loved Billie Holiday and Charlie Parker but never imagined falling so hard for a style that seems to have been forgotten amongst this generation of hip-hop and r&b. I am not at all abandoning those which have been my solace for years, but with growth and maturity I can no longer deny my craving for something more. Simplistic yet filled with complication. Here are a few artists that have captivated my ear within the past few days but I am positively sure this list will continue to grow. The fact that these are legends of a former era leave me wondering what all I have been missing??

Blossom Dearie
Ray Brown Trio
Red Garland
Sonny Stitt
Charlie Parker
Ella Fitzgerald
Beverly Kenney

Making a pact to rediscover the past and embrace something new...rather refreshingly old. Feel It.

Miss Me

I wanna ask if you miss me

but I'm scared to know why

is it my smile that captivates

and makes u look twice

or my eyes that mesmerize

and seem to always be filled with surprise

Could it be my brown sugar skin

that you say taste as sweet as it looks

or my hair that I can never get right

but seems to look perfect after a night of being pulled so tight

Do you miss my touch

the graze of my fingers lightly over your arm

or the caress that sounds a passionate alarm

my intense stare

when we both know I'm about to take you there

Yea...all that's nice

I'm glad that's how you feel

But I really need you to miss

something I find to be a little more real

like when I told you the story of my first real kiss

or the time when i had that game and everyone in the gym knew i couldn't miss

Or how each time i moved

I made a new best friend every year

Or when I left my favorite coach

was one of the few times I actually shed a tear

And the goofy smile I make

when you say something sweet

And the fact that I can never sleep with the covers on my feet

How about when I'm vibing on a song

and i want to explain all the lyrics

did you ever go back and listen

to try and understand why I really feel it

What are the subjects

that you know fascinate my mind

Or the reason I seem to have a passion

for the souls of mankind

Then how irritating I am

with my excited nasaled pitch

Or the two items of clothing

that would fill my closet if I were rich

Then those times that I remind you

How easily my feelings are hurt

Or how everyone knows

That I never learned how to flirt

I want you to miss

the moments time can't recreate

And the unique me

That's in the process of being reshaped

Not just the things I do

That give you pleasure

But if someone asked for details about me

You could honestly say--I know her

So once again

I really wanna ask if you miss me

Then again, its too late

Because I think you've already MISSED ME...

Introducing....

Introducing...Introducing...Me. Greetings and love to the wonderful, and sometimes not so wonderful, world of you and I. I come with feelings and thoughts, biases and preferences, and notions and inferences. I think it is easily assumed that I'm not at all close to a graphic designer. I'm not good at matching. I don't decorate nor do I even attempt to be artistically gifted through visual mediums. Unfortunately, and maybe fortunately, that is not Lena. But the things that I am--are undeniably present and are erupting from my most inner being to be shared. So this is my first step. Sharing 101.

Lets see...I am a writer. Not one in the sense of fictitious novels or lengthy informative articles, but as in one who seeks to share those things that seem to be inaudible. Please forgive the improper usage of the "theres, theirs, or they'res" for I never attempted to master the technicalities of the such. In other words, my grammar is terrible. Hopefully, through this method of sharing through an exhalation of words, I will be able to overcome that once hefty feat. Until then, please bare with me.

I am a listener. Your words enter my soul and penetrate the depths of who I am. My passion for people continues to keep me full with the world's laughter and tears. I am here to hear, thus I do. As this is the case, it is sometimes forgotten that I too have stories and emotions and fears that are followed by tears. So through this I create an open scribe to the audibly handicapped. Maybe you will hear me through the sound of your own voice.

I will write with purpose.
I will write with heart.
I will write but at times may forget where I have start.

This is Lena B. Monroe. Feel It.