PoemnoveL
My OtheR HaLf
Zoleka Montgomery
Co-Author: Joshua James Hawkins
Copyright © 2011 by Zoleka Montgomery
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4568-3758-7
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, situations, characters, real people, living or dead, places and/or real locales, names, dates, are only utilized to enhance this particular novel, and/or is entirely coincidental. These writing skills are only used to give a sense of reality from the author’s prospective.
Cover Designs: Al Alcantaral/ Zoleka Montgomery/Clay Faul
Make up by: Lafonda Lawrence
Hair by: Lafonda Lawrence
Edited by: Ebony Morris/ Zoleka Montgomery
This book was printed in the United States of America
To order additional copies of this book contact
God’s Production
Post Office Box 874
San Jose California
Xlibris Corporation
1-888-795-4274
Zoleka Smash Books
In Memory Of……
(The pain that it took to write Poemnovel and Essence of a Gemini)
Theneo Michael Hawkins
Baby Miller
Michael Johnson
Catrice M. Wilson
Baby Brown
Douglas Q Montgomery
William Satchell
Richard Satchell
Anthony Hayes
Alisha Johnnie
Loretta Campbell
Patricia Miller
Mr and Mrs. Simpson
The writer of this particular novel put the content of this particular book in the back; because she wanted you to move forward. Then at the end know where you want to go back over again.
Comments from the Authors:
Only through the strength and motivation that God has truly given us to write this particular novel, we have gained the strength through prayers, inspiration, and our trails and tribulations: to endure the wrath of letting go of each other. Struggling to hold back the tears and fears of life’s failures in our relationship; these spoken word and poem pieces where wrote. From the pain that we both have endured over the years, we finely gain the strength to let go of each other; with God’s Unfailing Love….
We understand that in reading this particular novel that there will be some individuals in which may find the language utilized offensive. However, in order to maintain the originality and intensity of the writer’s thoughts and creativity. It is our hopes and prayer that the reader s able to focus on and appreciate the context of the message being shared rather than the language that is being utilized.
Acknowledgements
In this one time novel by Ms. Zoleka and Mr. Joshua Hawkins whom trust that God is head of there lives today, yesterday, and tomorrow, humbly dedicate this novel to God’s Production.
My oldest daughter who is my right hand,
My middle daughter which is my left hand,
And my only son who is my heart,
And to my ex who is my legs, because he has always kept me stumbling through life’s diversities; and he only knows why.
I also would like to dedicate this particular novel to Joshua James Hawkins
Who showed me that without pain there was no inspiration @ all. This novel is also dedicated to the numerous people in our lives which have allowed us to see what God wanted us to do, in writing this particular novel. To the eyes that have helped me see what I could not see in me and my words….Ebony Morris.
I am Only a God’s Production
These poems are dedicated to the Love of My Life
(You know who you are I will love you always)
“Decisions”
I know that I sound stupid saying this my contradictions have probably reached endlessness, and you still have the audacity to ask me to entertain the same dumb as thoughts; like I have some kind of amnesia caught up in the moment and I forgot. Through blurred vision, my decisions have reached retartedness, as I scratch my head wondering who started this. It was like yesterday, when I reached out to someone who I had no business reaching out to and then I had the nerves to almost cry without even knowing it was you.
I guess shedding tears is a decision in itself. Just as sickness is a lack of health or maybe my subject is a matter of the heart. As I found a shoulder to cry on, for my locked up brother; I poured my drink out without one drop left. I’m crying tears until there was none left, it is as if I just stopped listening as If I’m selecting a slow death.
I tell U sometimes I’m disgusted with my decision processes because my pain is self –inflected more than less. I guess this shit was less than more, from this sista gurls perspective. To this unhealthy relationship to those delicate situations, where I just left, walked out with unfinished business, and incomplete test. Really I should be thankful for just the air that I breath, because with each passing breath is a life that I could not leave.
The brevity of life is said to be a brief as a flower, minute by minute, and hour after hour. Knowledge is power with a platinum lining, if I’m not learning I’m no living, If I’m not living I’m dying. A flower only last as long as its blossom, just as life needs to be lived and I’ve been paying possum. So to speak and it’s so weak to fall victim to incarcerating and enslaving a soul of pain medication. In other words, it’s not what you hear real life, I have lived this shit I am this shit; my every dream has collapsed that is hard to admit.
I speak about the prison and the system so often, because I have made that part of my reality through the love of m life and my family. A humanitarian less humanity, It is insanity. I had a dream last week about carpets made of mink, x-husbands, x-husbands bitches, and chaotic soap opera of dramatized real lives, and spiritual deaths behinds the walls; all behind collect calls.
A lifestyle television like real stories of highway patrol except It’s my story high on probation not. They’re making me out to be a criminal but I am not. I’m smiling which is a fabrication of the lies that they told, because I’m crying inside as all my potions is poured in the gutter, and all of my motions are being denied.
Today three babies graduated with only help from me, because their fathers have raised them from paper from the penitentiary, only hating a world that I have personally designed. My heart is a lacerated of what I feel inside, as all of my dreams, as well as my visions, are clutter to make me realize who is running this shift. Not a man but the spirit within. I want to be free again, so I can see again, it’s up to me again; damn it is to many of them “Decisions”
“Would You Love A Man”
I’m curious about why you choose to love, or would you love a man? If you where to meet a man who had all the potentials in the world, but didn’t have a penny to his name, would you even give him the time of a day; for him to even explain? Why this man was even broke in the first place. Or better yet, if you where reminded to forget that opposite never attract would you deny this man, if all he owned where the clothes on his back? If you where to meet a man who swept you off your feet, but later on you found out that he didn’t have anything to offer you not even a dime; and couldn’t explain why? Would you give this man the time of day at all?
If you where to meat this man who couldn’t offer you anything of materialistic value, but had a heart made of gold, would you turn him away? Is your heart that cold? Have times changed to the point where even love ones have a price? They stabbing folks in the back for drugs, materialistic lust, and turning their souls into ice----
I’ve heard so many complaints about men not being able to get it together not being able to say out of jail, and stay out of trouble. But when it comes down to it it wasn’t because of me, it was about what he did to me, damn it was hell and when he left it seemed like heaven. Then he had the audacity to ask or even wonder where all the good women are as he became addicted to sloppy second mistress, just to ride in my Lexus car. Then talk about my ass like a dog, I’m not good enough for him when he is on the streets, driving me crazy in a straight jacket locked away. Damn it was hell, but I’m good enough when he’s struggling to get off parole humbling myself with out dated clothes. Raising my kids never getting a break, and to you a bitch is lazy, crazy, and needs to be on psycho-medication
But when everything becomes the “norm” you hit the door with the hommies in the next female’s draws. Then you turn your nose up @ me, because I’m dirty after a hard day’s work, from raising my kids, and you wondering where all the good females went. While your struggling to find another broads company and dumping your shit on me. It’s my fault for being tired from what life has been throwing at me.
So now back to my question where this poem first began if all he had to offer you was a walk in the park holding his hand. Would you turn him away? Or would you love a man? I choose to love this man besides all his faults.
“New Love in Me”
Through every single broken promise and through constant change, storm after never-ending storm, through dark grey skies and un-controllable rain there’s a new love; a new love in me. Despite the sleepless nights and all our fights, that where in the name of love, a new love in me. Despite the sleepless nights and all our fights, which where in the name of love, regardless if it was wrong or right. Our search went above and beyond all understanding. Although the encounters, left elbows on the tables. Palm to face overwhelmed with sadness, when moving on meant I was no longer able to go back to where began. Only having to start over a new, when nobody else was starting a new with me, but on me that is for sure.
Nobody, understood what we where going through when we where going through the mess, they offered un-sound advice without even knowing me or you which ended up with the scratches on your face. Torn apart with broken hearts, completely empty inside, I couldn’t believe what we where going through even when we where going through it all. Until I opened up my eyes, as I started crying without any tears left. The well has run dry leaving me dying inside only questioning myself all the time. Where the hell has a sista gurl been? Folks have been getting over on my because I was living in sin; struggling constantly to remind myself of the holy-spirit within.