Questions I Asked God

Do you have a sense of humor? Do you laugh at idiots in the same way that I do? Do you play tricks on people? Hide their keys? Do you reward people even when they don’t deserve it order to maintain some sense of balance/kindness/mystery that we are not advanced enough to understand? Do you know what kindness is? Do you define it differently than I do? Do you have a CD player? Do you like Coldplay? Do you songs get stuck in your head? Are “blessings” rewards or favors?

Can you feel temperatures? Do you have good days and bad days? Do you play favorites with certain countries, certain times, certain people? Do you ever have to swallow your pride? Do you enjoy being worshiped blindly by millions? Does it piss you off that people interpret you so differently?

Am I special?…Okay. In a good way or a bad way? Do you have a favorite color? Have you ever had sex? Do you ever bite your tongue? Are you any particular race? Is “perfection” purely a human concept? Have you ever had a regret? Are you as imperfect as the beings you supposedly created? Why do people get so pissed when I try to make sense of you? Are you a figment of my imagination, or theirs, or us both? Why aren’t more people nice to me? Is there a secret of the world that I just don’t “get”?

Is “nice” a human concept? Do you live in a palace in the clouds? Do you hang out with naked baby angels? How can someone live for 94 years and leave this world lying in a coffin with an unrecognizable grimace on their face? I feel sick.

Why do dumb people have children? Why do I have a mind that races? Why can I keep so much control? Do you wear tie-dye T-shirts? Are you a hippie with long hair? Is smoking weed a bad thing? Do you do it and not tell anybody? Who do you tell all your problems to?

Do you pray to a God who prays to a God who prays to a God who prays to a God? Do you hate it when people ignore you? Do you ever ask humans for help? Do you write? Do you have good penmanship? Did you choose to be who you are and where you are or have you just been one way for since the beginning of time? What came before you? Did you like, create yourself?

Do you get bored up there? Do you really live so high in the sky? Or do you live below in order to be closer to us? To be closer to me?  Do I piss you off? Do you like me? Do I disappoint you? Is there really a Devil you argue with, or is that just one of those things that humans made up? Like, is the Devil an actual entity/mean red guy or is it just a creative way to articulate the lack of God?

Are you ever gonna set people straight about the Illuminati? Am I smart or stupid for thinking that is is possibly the most ridiculous, false, and malicious conspiracy theories in the world? Are you genuinely offended by curse words? Do “holy religious books” matter to you?

Do you treat people from different cultures the same or do you accommodate each of their separate beliefs? Do you ever wanna take a vacation? Do you think the beach is relaxing? Is it smart to bring a child into this world? Why don’t people wear more condoms?

What takes over a person when they feel rage? What do you think is beautiful? Is it weird that I find the ugliness in my own face if I stare at it too long, or not long enough? Does it mean that deep down inside, I hate myself? Why do I feel so good on stage? Why don’t I have the drive to be a lawyer or an accountant?

Is life really meant to be as miserable as people make it seem? Are relationships really meant to be as miserable as people make them seem? Is romantic love a human concept? Have you ever had your heart broken?

Why can’t I stop saying the word “cunt”? Why can’t I care less about my brother and sister? Why does my mind race even in my dreams? Am I working towards learning something or just suffering for nothing…suffering at the hand of my own intelligence?

Why aren’t I White? Why aren’t I ever Black/Zambian/Caribbean/Caymanian/Canadian enough to claim any one as my own culture? Why am I always so confused about the definition of the word, “honesty”? Why am I so patient sometimes? Why won’t my pen stop moving?

I want…….? I want………? I want, I want, I want………?

I want? I want???

I want…..? I WANT?? Why don’t I know what I want?

I want?

////////////////////////

I want…..not friends or guidance or corrections or therapy or guarantees or answers, but…? I want…..?

Okay. I want.

I exhale.

xo

Bushlette

Little Sister

Little Sister,

I pray to God that
you remain in a
beautiful
peaceful ignorance.

I will take care of you,
I will keep you under
the veil of my adamant protection.

I will carry you where
you need to go.
I will look left and right
before you cross the road,
cross the city,
cross the world.

If you cross too fast,
I will pull the imaginary
umbilical cord
between
your head
and
my heart,

And drag you back
maybe kicking, or screaming,
or crying, or smiling,
but for your own good.

I make myself the
tree – old, wise-
knowing and
with endless branches
of experience
that explode in
different directions.

My hope for you is
that you will be
strongly rooted: my little tree.

Grow beside me,
never leave. Imitate
my branches of success.
This is my gift to you.

But you don’t want this gift.

You say
you cannot grow strong
so close beside me.

You say that you are
dying in the damp dark.
You say I block you
from sunlight.

So instead you choose
to be my leaves.
Surrounding my dark
branches, growing from
their so called magic.

You are all around
inside me.
You receive
your much desired sunlight
from all angles.
You careen in the wind,
but every night
you rest,
on me.

Okay.

Little sister,
you rise
and sway with me
every afternoon, and

as much as this
connection warms me,
as much as I grow stronger
in your
presence,

I know that one day,
you’ll start to change
colour,

Slowly – and maybe even
behind my back.

And everyone sees how gorgeous you are.

People want
to take pieces of you
home

And you let them.

I pray to God that
winter never arrives.

I know that by then you
would have
completely fallen away,
blown away,
floated away.

Not only would I have
been stripped of my
beauty
and purpose
by your chilling departure.

I won’
t
know where
you are.
I won’
t

be able
to pull
you back
to me.
I won’
t be able
to
pro-
pro-
pro-
tect-
you.

If you ever do
come back,
You won’t be
the same.

I beg you not to
allow the elements of the world
to pick
and pull you
away from my dark security.

For if you do
I know
that the
mi
se
ry
will be so great…

that I will pray
for the beautiful,
peaceful ignorance
I
tried
to give
you.

xo
Bushlette

Losing My Blog Virginity

Hi Readers,

It’s a…coffee sipping, internally romantic, I-love-myself moment and have woken to the sweet sounds of my sister-love, Lady Day. We inhale our ordinary surroundings and the quietness, the stillness of this particular moment seems to serve as a reassurance that every wrong decision served it’s humble purpose and every right decision did just the same.

This morning….this type of morning comes only once a month or year or lifetime. It is the universe’s gift of self assurance, independence, and strength…but my mind is so clear and quiet that I am reminded of how easily this gift can slip away from me, through my lips, in the form of a debilitating, yet insignificant insecurity.

So I cradle my oversized coffee cup and smile as it scalds my fingertip. I kiss that same finger and use it to cover my lips. I let Billie Holiday do the talking and hope that this moment lasts long enough for me to remember it.

Here’s to my first post on the Singlestream and to everyone having a happy morning.

xo
Bushlette

Introducing BUSHLETTE!

She’s bold, she’s beautiful, she’s a singlestreamer, and she’s NOT writing a book and taking a blog vacation.  She is Bushlette!

I’d like to introduce to the Singlestream it’s first guest author.  Ever.  Her name is Bushlette and she is my literary baby sister.  We have written together, performed together, and laughed together a lot and the Singlestream is blessed to have her while Bushlings takes a vacation.

Look out for her first post and give her a warm welcome!

Blog Vacation

My Dearest Reader,

I know you lie awake at night waiting impatiently, shaking your feet in anticipation and drumming your fingers in agitation on your arm waiting for my next blog entry. Alas I must disappoint you, Dearest, for frequent blogging and constant streaming are no longer to be.

Bushlings is taking a vacation.  A break.  Blog leave.  From the Singlestream.

The painful truth behind our sad parting is this, dear Reader.  I have distracted myself daily with this blog.  My book has been left neglected near a month and is truly poorly treated despite being my favoured child.

I know you also wait in desperate anxiety for the completion of the manuscript, and so as a compromise, I will not leave you totally bereft of Bushlings’ wisdom.  Once a week I will write to you – only because I know how much you need me.  Only for you my Dearest.  A sad shadow of the rich and constant fare to which you have grown accustomed, but I go to prepare a feast for you!  Better than no fare at all, no?

All foolishness aside guys, I’m on a mission to write a book.  Every time my hand itches to write, it’s so much easier to log in here and its the blog and not the book (and not really me in the long-term) that benefits.  Until I’m caught up it’s book all week for me.  You’ll hear from me weekly – I know I just can’t help myself so I’m being realistic – and I’ll drop an update or a sample here and there.  And so, so long my friends!  Until next Friday!

Have a great weekend!

City Dreams

Saturday morning sunshine woke me.  But I wish I’d blocked out the light.  I DID NOT WANT to wake up.

In my dream just before I woke up and rolled over on the softest bed ever, somewhere in New York City.  There was a duvet and loads of pillows covered in white cotton sheets.  The light was filtering in through a balcony door somewhere – I couldn’t see it from my nest but I knew it was there.  This was my room.  And I was not alone.  Through one half-opened eye I could see to my right, asleep on his stomach, was my life partner.  A well-built man with back muscles relaxed under tightly stretched nut-brown skin, he promised to be at least two inches over six feet tall standing.  I got the sense of comfort, security, belonging and strength from the moment.  And then there was a knock on the door.

In came our housekeeper to give him something important to sign.  “Come in” he grumbled from his position, head in pillow.  “We’re not doin’ anything.”  That one made me smile inside but I was too sleepy to laugh.  But I did draw the blankets up around my chin, snuggling deeper down.  She came in, gave him a pen and a piece of paper, he signed and she left as quietly as she’d come.  When she was on her way back to the door he turned to me and drew me into his space and we both went back to sleep.

And I woke up.

That day I decided it was ok to dream of love.  There is no shame in it and nothing dirty about it.

The dream followed me for days until I met its equal.

I woke up this morning to Lola licking my hand hanging off the side of the bed.  She spent some time on my fingers and started pulling at my whole hand with her two front paws.  My dog loves her hind legs so much I think she thinks she’s human.  She follows my every move when I put on my makeup and brush my teeth so that I’m sure if she tried she could do it herself.  Next she’ll want me to teach her to drive!  And so she took my hand in her two hands and tried to coax me off the bed.

But I didn’t want to wake up.

I had just walked into my Aunty’s house in London to tell her that I had found the perfect house!  Before that moment of waking, I had trecked all of the South East’s suburbs looking for a home for me and my two dogs.  It needed to be reasonably near to the train station, reasonably near to a park or a nice walking route, and reasonably near to my Aunty.  I had found the perfect flat for the three of us to live in and was going to take my photos to Aunty for her opinion.  And then Lola woke me up.  To reality again.

I am dreaming at night of a new life, travelling to new cities in my sleep.  There is a growing itch spreading past my toes and my ankles, telling me it’s time to get on a flight.  And so this morning I booked my flight to New York.