Pre K: I don't think god has anything to do with marriage.. marriage is an institution built on the foundation of politics and economics but sold to public as one of holy significance and the cosmic word, love.

So i was checkin my subscriptions and came across this from tha homie Pre K (you guys should check out his blog...it's truth) anywayz this is exactly what i've been thinking for soooo long....a lot of recent events (my friends gettin married and meeting  people around my age that married) have led to this revelation...THE WORD MARRIAGE IS FAKE AND SALES NOTHING BUT FANTASIES!!! 

When we're children we are told FAIRYTALES (aka some bored person's fantasies) of lost maidens being swept off their feet by their prince charming and living happily ever after riding into the sunset (end scene)...but the stories don't include the truths and work you have to put in....So we grow up with these fantasies engrained in our brains and have us thinkin this how love will be...Even when we grow up movies are made based of these fantasies (more brainwashing of weak relationships built on physical attractions or some fading characteristic)...then we find ourselves heartbroken when we don't end up living these fantasies in our everday lives and wonder why we're the only one's goin through this cuz love isn't suppose to be this way....WAKE UP!

So i've voiced this opinion to many people and for tha most part i've gotten good vibes back...people saying "i agree" or "yeah that's true" but there are a few people who get all upset and tell me that i'm just "another bitter black woman who got hurt and now has given up on love" This could be no further from tha truth...i have in no shape, form, or fashion given up on love!  It's just that tha whole thought of marriage being this 'sacred institution that one only enters when he/she is fully prepared to share a faithful love'  is simply for tha birds!!! 

Now don't get me wrong, I am not sayin that all marriages are headed for destruction..i'm merely sayin that marriage has morphed from being somethin internal and personal between two people to an external word that is suppose to symbolize love.  When the truth is love and marriage can certainly exist independantly without the other.....therefore they can not possibly define each other!  In other words...don't think that a relationship can not be one of love because there is no marriage...because there can certainly be a marriage with no love! 

People then say..well the bible says that marriage is sacred and relationships should be defined by it....however I believe that the marriages of today are NOT what GOD meant when he created the sacred union of marriage.  We all know that things have changed an awful lot since biblical times, so until we understand what GOD really meant when he talked about marriages it is not fair to place HIM in the center of somethin that has no ties or pertains to HIM at all!

Like Sean Combs (Puff  Daddy, Diddy or whateva he's being called these days) said when he was asked about why he never married Kim: "Kim never voiced that she wanted to be married.  If she said she wants to get married today I'll marry her, but we never thought that would work for us.  Marriage doesn't define what we have.            I know a lot of married people and tha sh!t ain't that happy."

In other words IF IT AINT BROKE STOP TRYIN TO FIX IT!

What Becomes Her?

She sees him walking, she likes his style

The way he licks his lips, the way he smiles

The mystery in his laugh, the coolness in his voice

The sexiness of his body, what becomes her without choice?

Lust becomes her, takes over her mind

The softness of his touch sends tingles up her spine

And everything she is and everything she does

She does it just to receive his love!

She lives her life for his happiness

She goes through the day for just one kiss

She gives herself and all that she has

Forever she wants this feeling to last

Love becomes her, as he makes her his wife

She’s now complete with the love of her life

Her feelings for him will never end

He’s her lover, husband, and her best friend!

She’ll give her life to see him smile

He sometimes hits her, but she’s in denial

She tells herself “he does it out of care”

“He wouldn’t hurt me, Love can’t be this unfair”

Pain becomes her, she gives her life

She ignores the hurts wanting to be the perfect wife

So she hides the bruises and hides the tears

And continues to endure the pain for years

He’s hitting her more and more everyday

She wants to leave, but love makes her stay

The bruises are larger and harder to hide

So she goes to her friend, the Lord, to confide

She asks “Why is this happening, When did it begin?”

Be begged “God please don’t let him hit me again!”

But the hitting never stopped and she stayed by his side

Death finally becomes her because she let it slide.

Shari Nikole – 4.3008

 A Letter To My Mistaken Godsends (Now Known As The Great Pretenders)

This is a letter to my Great Pretenders

Who I hope after reading this will reconsider

The past attacks they’ve committed toward me

And give back the pieces they’ve stolen from me!

I want my pieces back….

Trust me when I say, regardless of if I freely gave them to you at the time

I was confused by your commercial swagga’ and your fake ass rhymes!

Now because you are holding hostage valuable pieces of my soul

I can never move on; I can never be whole.

I need my pieces back…

You were mistaken for a Godsend, someone I thought was right

So I stood there blinded while you tore me apart in broad daylight.

You’re good at what you do; you’re great at your game

I’m still here confused but you already moved on and switched lanes

I’m waiting to get my pieces back…

It’s very important for me to be complete

To go back to the me I used to be

I’m tied to you and I want to be free

So if you have the time, return my property

This is a letter to my Great Pretenders

Who I hope after reading this will reconsider

The past attacks they’ve committed toward me

And give back the pieces they’ve stolen from me!

Shari Nikole

Have a seat sister; this may take a while. Don't be afraid. The two pistols you see smoking in my hands are harmless now. Both clips are empty, much like a Larry Elders speech. And even though I was aiming at the System when I first unloaded shots into the air, I see now that I missed the target. The System remains intact while you sit wounded and battle-weary from decades of bullets being lodged deep into your heart and soul.

I murdered you many times. Still, you didn't die-not even once.

I apologize for abandoning you and leaving you to fend for yourself in a world as cruel as it is cold. I should have supported you when you offered to be apart of the struggle. But the struggle was an internal one as well as an external one, and I was losing on both fronts. I got mad at you for straightening your hair, for slow dancing in the arms of white men, for challenging my manhood and comparing it to other races. I hated the way the System divided us by promoting you and demoting me, but instead of uniting with you and having your back, I attacked you and left you alone in your grief.

I apologize for flaunting white women in your face as soon as I got money or fame. I was suffering from a mental illness that had me believing that my self-worth had to be approved by blue eyes. I know it hurt you to see me betray you so quickly, so easily, and so often. I had you feeling as though you were not worthy to be in my arms when the opposite was true. I was not worthy of yours.

I apologize for calling you a "bitch" and a "hoe" and treating you like a sexual object in my music, and in the streets, and amongst my homeboys. I felt powerless and frustrated, lost in maze of self-hatred. I raped you, and pimped you, and beat you, and cursed you, and tried to destroy you in the same way I felt destroyed. The pressures of society triggered the implosion that almost destroyed everything inside of me. And you got caught up in the blast because you were always so determined to stand firmly by my side.

I murdered you many times. Still, you didn't die-not even once.

I apologize for cheating on you, abusing you, and leaving you as soon as you got pregnant. I pretended like the child wasn't mine. I even asked you to kill the baby because I knew I wasn't responsible enough to rear him/her properly. When you refused, I reluctantly tossed you a few dollars each month and felt like that's all I had to do to be a father. I apologize for turning you into a single mother instead of a happy wife.

I apologize for selling drugs and going to prison and using the streets as an excuse for my failure. I didn't want to be like the honest folks in my hood who worked hard and had nothing to show for it. I wanted more out of life but didn't have the courage or the insight to follow the path of the brothers who worked hard in school to build stable futures and lives for themselves. I grew up angry at the world and my environment. But instead of using this anger in a constructive manner, I beat down and shot up the first brother who stepped on my shoes in the club.

I apologize for dying so young in the streets. I just wanted respect. I just wanted power. And the only people in my hood who possessed these qualities were the gangsters and thugs and dealers. You warned me to be careful. You begged me to slow down. But I didn't listen. The respect of the street was all I had. It was something I was willing to kill for, to even die for. I was fighting a war against myself, and dying for a cause that didn't exist.

I apologize for breaking your heart and betraying your trust and hurting you so badly that you became almost as racist as the System. You started calling all black men dogs and writing cruel little Waiting to Exhale type books that spent too much time degrading me instead of explaining that good black men are the majority. Your anger and books flew high, like African Jehaka birds, towards the tree branches of my soul. But instead of forgiving me and attempting to rebuild your nest, your anger and books became woodpeckers and pecked away at what was left of me.
You screamed out that good black men were hard to find and blamed me for your actions when you held white men in your arms. I tried to tell you that I was the minority, and that good black men were everywhere, but it was easier for you to point fingers me than it was to give these brothers a chance. I should have treated you like the queen that you are so that other black men wouldn't be falsely accused of my emotional crimes.

I murdered you many times. Still, you didn't die-not even once.

I apologize for encouraging you to be materialistic. I dumped my money into the same System that was destroying me and tried to impress you with expensive cars, platinum jewelry, and Polo gear. I fooled you into thinking that the measure of a man was in his bank account or in the size of the knot in his front pocket. You jumped into the front seat of my Lexus, happy because your friends were now envious of you, as we both sped down a dead end road at one hundred miles per hour. As a result, many black men who didn't own a Lexus were ignored and even dismissed by you. I had you believing that your love came with a price tag.

I apologize for the late night booty calls. You wanted to talk, to cuddle, and to explore the depth of my character. I only wanted sex. I called you when I was horny and only reached out to you when I saw that you were slipping away. I should have talked to you and opened up to you. Instead, I trusted only my homeboys and factored you out of the equation.

And I apologize for turning you against your friends and family members. I was jealous of their influence over you. I was afraid that you would listen to them when they told you that I was not good for you. I didn't have a job, and when I did, I used it as a weapon against you. When wise sisters told you to raise your standards, I persuaded you to lower them. I had you thinking that you had to have a man, any man, to be complete. And I apologize for that.

I murdered you many times, sister. Yet, incredibly, amazingly, you didn't die. Not even once. And this serves as the ultimate testimony to your true greatness.

I've come to the realization that: