Dear Thank You..

Thank you.

The last trap I fell into. Was the last.. thank you.

Thank. You.

I won’t ever forget the pierce of my heart with your eyes sitting comfortably as I was bruised.

Orchestra maestro of abuse. 

Your bitter sweet symphony.

Thank you.

To the one whose fist I shall not forget thank you too.  You have taken place of what I use to be so glad I got to see.  Where I use to be is no longer for me.  I felt how you now feel, constantly. I would have beat me too.  I couldn’t stand me when I was you.  I felt that with every punch that lie upon my face like traces of who I let go of. Walked away from.  On the ground to the new old me swinging repeatedly. Displays misplaced anger see.

I wanted to bruise me too, when I was you.  Emotions bare proof.  Nothing but you. That same displaced anger I once felt too. I understand you. I fought for new so I could not let myself fight you. So I let you.  Stay disillusioned so I wouldn’t have to.

Eye for an eye. I lay for a lie. As the both of you lie.

Barred up just to feel scarred up with time to fry.. the memories of him and I. Now it’s you who never.. minds.

Thank you!

Often times we hold on to things. Mostly the pain. The unforgiving moments that pile up in our brains. Forging a heavy weight we need not carry to insane.

We must forgive and find reasons to live in the silver lining of the stratus over head.  So instead..

If it beat you down.. don’t let it break you.
If it’s locked you up.. don’t let it imprison you.
If it ridiculed you.. don’t let it define you.

Forgive.  I pray for amnesia often times to live without the memories embedded in mind. So hell.. I’m dying to forget. Yet..

Live with no regets.


Fret is something we won’t do.  For the times I’ve fought through. I see reflections of strength used. For this..

I thank you!

Love.. YoU!

Miss Takes

A series posted on wriiten by yours truly, G. Phoenix! (Thank God for opening doors… this is the journey of a Phoenix rising!)

Miss Takes

By g. Phoenix


It started with a smile and ended …

When they met it was a fatal attraction.  Him so magnetic in all that he does.  Her drawn to him like metal.  They stuck together like glue from the moment he saw her.

At first it was innocent.  The way he would tease her…

“Where you goin’ in those shorts??”

She’d laugh until the day he drug her by her hair to change them.  Her way of masking the hurt changed them, the two of them.  She excused his behavior with her silence.  He silenced her with the fear that one day she might not make it out of this magnetism alive.

Ta’Kesha was a very giving person, though everyone called her Takes.  How many licks does it take to get to the center of what brought about such an addiction to pain?  This wasn’t the case of a tormented childhood or a dad not present.  Takes wanted to heal the pain felt by others; the pain she felt for them.  Notorious for chasing the wrong men it seemed the tables had turned for her.  The wrong man had chased her into solitude.

Where was Takes going in those short shorts?  Her best friend’s house, him and his wife just bought their first home fully equipped with a pool deep enough to store the tears she hid and only shed on her bathroom floor.  Only this time the excuse wasn’t the truth… it never is.  How could she call her friend, Moe former Marine and say…

“Sorry I can’t make it.  Lance beat me to bruises once again and I’m ashamed to show my face.  I’ll see you, as usual, when the pain and evidence of me even being in an abusive relationship …heals”

Yet, it never heals.  It only gets worse.  This relationship started with a smile and ended…


Another mistake.

Manifest Truth

Manifest Truth

By E. June Rice

There is a truth to our self that lives inside the lies, beyond the surface, behind the walls we see underneath our skin of who we choose to be.”

I saw myself for the first time the other day…

weak, fragile, and needy.

 Need be this reflection of me is not all one should see. I know me if you don’t.

I saw myself for the first time. I see what others see. I saw days gone by without care.  Labeled handled with care. Such irony.  What disregard… I saw a contradiction.

Thrown and tossed aside with no respect.

I see neglect. I saw nights of floods from windows of a soul once warm and inviting.  I saw do no enter instead of welcome. I saw a doormat with footprints of love not entered.

Love not found.

Love not signed for… Return to sender.

I saw myself for the first time… At first glance strong… secure like first class mail.


Not on track.

 A deeper look reveals. I mourned and now grieve… A father who was more of a father than my …. DNA shows one should have been. A dad, my daddy, my light burned out… faded in pain. I show relief of pain no longer felt… I grow numb. No more suffering.

 I remind myself, no more suffering. Pain reminds me it still resides inside.  Invaded by sorrow…  overpowering waves.

I saw myself for the first time washed ashore. Blinded.  I awake to new light.  I see the truth that never was, never used to be. I see discovery like land of original settlers stolen by self-proclaimed explorers. I was taken over and now under… I await …and wait. Drowning in tears, gasping for a life-saver. I swim to my rescue.

Shall I be…???

Could I be???

But I am … And now I am no longer what I see I become what I need to be. I see redemption. I see hope. I see what could have been Now taken over by what will be, what shall be…

Mine for the taking… I take charge and see a new day.

Thanking a man that fought hard for each day spent breathing in pain survived. He survives inside and gives hope for me to reside. Beneath the surface …

I saw myself for the first time. With power and wisdom to strive for difference. I see indifference.  Once plagued by hate.  Hopeful of love from the source of yours truly. I see appreciation. A struggle to stay alive …turns to a struggle to live.

I see a life to be lived.

I saw disdain…

now I change.

 I see myself for the first time today…

a manifestation of a life..



Life is a journey. At what stride we choose to walk this journey is entirely up to the explorer. As a writer I’ve had my explorations through life and with this gift to gab about it, I invite you to walk with me.

Or, shall I say, STRUT!

With this opportunity to write an editorial for Parle magazine (a publication with exquisite taste might I compliment) I stumbled across an old dream of mine; to be a columnist. I dared to dream that my trail of life tangled in love misrepresented as sex, a chase of relationships dripped in the latest fashion would be brought to the forefront that only most witnessed through HBO during the Sex and the City era. This is no HBO series, this is real life. My life that I care to share and bring insight to those lost along their own journey as I have gotten lost even myself on several exploits; read and learn. Ever watch and wanted to turn the pages of your local newspaper to your own personal “Sex and the City” column? As much as you desire to read, I dream to write. Look no further…

First you must get to know, what you’re getting into here. This soon to be column, Strut, is a runway of life so to speak. One, with true self-confidence, does not just “get by” in life or simply walk down a path as if looking for lost change. We strut, head held high. Even with the mistakes made, I say where them like the latest Roberto Cavalli or vintage Valentino dress and strut through life without looking down toward your feet. Life is too short to second guess who you are or where you stand in it.

We all make mistakes in life, hopefully with my candid witty way of revealing those I have made we can both laugh and learn from them. Learning from another’s mistakes is the best way to be taught. If only I would have discovered this on my voyage. (Though, if I did I would have no content to write so our first lesson is to have no regrets for everything has a reason and a season like Fall, September issue, fashion) My motto is to “save the world one smile at a time”, as corny as it sounds, but most importantly as a writer, to save just one life an article at a time.

Strut with me:

A lover of music and rhythm became a passion for dance. A love for the art of expression through movement turned into an opportunity to learn amongst the great. I’m not a name dropper but I’ve been classically trained in dance with some of the best in the industry. But sometimes a journey reaches its heights when you’ve reached that height and feel nothing. It was time for the prima ballerina to turn in her toes shoes for a pair of stilettos. A dancer became a model. One should never anticipate that a statement so classy would, I’m sure most caught at first glance, become so…déclassé. I literally traded my toe shoes for stilettos. For, I soon found myself turning those once ever so classy runway walking stilettos into a pair with a clear platform.

Tchaikovsky was never played at Shangri-La. The Nutcracker Princess never stood a chance but instead became… “Stacey”. Now with all this creativity inside of me seductive mysterious names like Joslyn, Jade, Lysette, and… “I can barely remember” were better fit for the part but Stacey was a given name. In an industry more shallow than the façade of fashion everyone said I looked like Stacey Dash so it stuck… and that’s what they called me no matter how creative alternate names were. They called me Stacey every time. That’s funny… Stacey Dash. So many costumes were created to camouflage mE. Because after all I was more fit for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy than a “Joslyn” in the Champagne room. Light sensuous honey eyes, paid for, along with the lustrous wig and lavishly caked-on makeup… only to be pegged a look alike of the one celebrity everyday people and even those who know me personally compare me to… Stacey Dash. Oh, the irony. I guess I was “home” after all… the stage. The ballet, the stage at Symphony Hall became Shangri-La, a “gentlemen’s club” on stage with an ice cold pole to freeze a once warm heart.

 Still I strut…

No matter where life takes you, you will always end up where you belong. I don’t regret nor forget my days as “Stacey” or care to relive them. Nor do I allow those to make me feel as if I should be ashamed of the path I chose. I must always remind my readers that everyone’s path is different. If your path is without judgment it shall be easier to walk along for little judgment will come your way, especially when it comes down to being judged by your creator, whomever you see as such.

As you strut with me, you will learn. You could be a lawyer, a doctor, a stripper, a housewife trying to find her purpose, a single mom or dad trying to figure out the opposite sex, or even a writer looking for a better view in this jungle; no matter how you identify yourself we can all learn from each other by simply sharing our expedition much like a travel guide… in stylish clothes of course.

This is just an introduction to what I will be doing for the rest of my life. This. Right here. Informal… incomplete sentences of precise eloquence. Run on sentences of passion to make you fall in love with not who I am, oh upon attempting to get to know me past my shy quiet disposition at times, you might not ever get to know me to fall for who I really am; but you will nonetheless fall in love with my words which I can contest are always from the heart. From the incomplete to the run-on, you will fall into something if it’s not love. These words of truth, wrapped in sensuality, dripped in seduction, and straight deep fried, coated in a batter of everything rugged and raw a feminine creature like me could ever be seasoned in, makes a tempting treat. As always, such a treat turns out to be rather irresistible… or so I’ve been told. As I blog daily to motivate on or intrigue you with controversy on I aim to entice you to look for more where this came from on (

 Now Strut along… ‘til next time!

Never Unpublished…

God is opening doors.  I prepare for opportunity to knock as I see it loitering outside my door.  My hand is already unlocking …these keys to success.  I am ready to answer.

Oh I have gotten cold feet, writers block per week… I am human.  Nonetheless a hungry starving artist of words “fixing” to eat.

That’s a country saying to all my “city folk”.  Spent enough time in the south to broaden my vernacular however ignorant it may seem to the formal college educated.  I too, am from a small town called Howard University and I take my colloquialisms quite seriously.  I am the last of a dying breed… a college educated city hustler that speaks many languages of the down to Earth and just as bougie as I come off I wear it like a badge of honor amongst those I try to educate instead of judge and talk down to.  Though I’m pretty sure it comes off that way from time to time.  You can’t get through to everyone.  Ignorance is bliss.  And most like to keep it that way.

I’d like to be the bridge between the two vastly different worlds of…

Straight and Gay

City and Country

College and Street

Bougie and Ghetto

I pride on being it all…


One should not keep you from being every woman yourself… or every man for that matter.  Being well-rounded and open-minded is key.  And when you’re trying to figure it all out as you grow… I am here to get you through your journey simply by taking you on mine.  I hope you learn more than just how to laugh.  (with my wit of course… I am no one’s joke… hence my no lol policy.. no jokes here “no ma’am, no ham, no turkey” this here is real serious grown up shyt!)

(you can lol at that… it’s ok… I can’t see you through this screen)

I say all that to say this….

a dream coming near you in the form of a blog on a fellow blogger’s blogsite to help promote and post my aspirations to become the next “Carrie Bradshaw” in the flesh on said blogsite in all variations… such as Miss Takes in the sex and relationship blog…

and the opportunity I’ve been looking for… the one to look for…

a column for a magazine titled Strut… the Sex and the City style editorials on sex and fashion.

Stay Tuned…

SincerelyUnRandom publishes all drafts submitted to both… right here FIRST!

Femmina Fatale is no dumby!  When opportunity knocks… I answer!


Sincerely,  I must say on behalf of those who were given the gift to feel all that is going on around us…

There is a sadness in the air.  Amidst this recession there is a depression.  Just when we think we have seen the light of day, a cloud hangs over to remind us of the times.

It’s hurricane season for sure.  It rains everyday… and when it rains, it pours because the clouds are endless.

Don’t be fooled by the mirage of gray skies.  This is a necessary evil.  I view it as a cleansing for a fresh start or a rainbow of truth to shine through and remind us of what is real, what is important.  The shades of gray remind us that life goes on even after it dies.  The clouds remind us that the sun does shine and when it does you must always appreciate it because even though there is gloom luring over your day with chances of rainfall… chances are you may not live to see even that.

We take things one day at a time… every drip by drop of waterfall on the window panes that pain us to say it but “tomorrow is not promised”.  I think it gives us delight to call out this truth as though it were solid unwavering truth; this expectancy of life per 24-hour period.  But anyone who has truly loved and lost permanently on this Earth knows.  We truly know this is propaganda truth.  A mirage that we see when our dismal days of mourning seem permanent as the absences.  .. ..

Yes.. it’s true but only partly cloudy.  The real hurricane when it hits… comes without warning on a partly cloudy day.  The whole truth and nothing but the truth is… our next breath is not promised nevertheless our next day.

When we mourn even if it’s just the times… we realize that every second in life is precious.

This recession makes us see the rainbow between these storms in the form of family, loved ones, children, teachers, preachers who live a life of righteousness and integrity.  These rainbows make us appreciate not the “things” we accumulate in life…  Or the things we work so hard to obtain, drive, sport around, live in, or rock on a hand, wrist, or neck …for they are just that, THINGS.  The materials that we have lost during this recession give us a wake up call rather than a warning.  It wakes us up long enough to take a longer look through the gray skies and raindrops to see the rainbow of importance in life.

Maintain your sanity through it all…

Learn what is important to you.

Work to maintain that over “the things” and the facades society expects you to put on!

and last but not least LivE.. not just day to day but second…. to second… to second..



It is your God-given gift…

each and every breath!

To My Readers:

(BLOODY HELL: I thought I published this days ago… I truly apologize faithful readers.  I’ve gone mad I tell you… mad)


that’s a definite lol

 If you read my more inspiring jewels ( of the day you’ll know… laughter is key to me.  Laugh in the face of adversity.. and they shall flee!

NOW… the following is what I attempted to send days ago.  But obviously as I notice right in this moment we call now… I didn’t… (again my apologies!)

I will be back to our regularly scheduled Sincerely Unrandoms after I settle a few things with you. THIS is what keeps me going. Your feedback, the inspiration to keep writing… growing.  Your views are my motivation. As a writer, my integrity means most so when I do post something it is always to uplift and educate first then entertain last. I hope I have succeeded in doing so.

My older and wiser cousin who is also a fellow writer (I will soon reveal) said to me today as it resonated deeply… “if it’s not fye… I’d rather not.”

Fye.. FYI means to be hot.. on fire… straight so hot you can’t even describe in two syllables so it just becomes FYE! …before the “ER”.  You’ll get it..

She’s a perfectionist like most writers so I understood.  If it’s not hot… I’d rather not.

So… I haven’t.  I haven’t been writing.  The expectations became intimidating and I got stuck.  I couldn’t even come up with jewels.  You’ll see the hiatus.  Sometimes re-grouping is necessary.  I had to re-group.  Because like I said integrity is key.  And if it doesn’t at least touch someone… a passer-by, a hard-working single mom bored on the clock, a man lost looking to understand SOMETHING about a real woman… if it doesn’t touch someone (?), anyone (?).. then it’s just not worth the taps of energy from my fingertips to the letters on this mini-notebook fit for a published author.

Needless to say, as my readers YoU mean a lot to me… you are the reason I blog in the first place. Otherwise journals and notebooks of another kind would be all I know.

Thanks for picking my head up out the composition and spiral notebooks, putting my pen down briefly, and allowing a platform to compose beautiful “music” with the keys of my computer’s keyboard.
Life is only as tough as you make it… in the meantime read a blog! ;)
Or write one! <-my inspiring cousin!

The ones that got me started? Well… I’m guessing it’s time to pay homage:

A soulful creation:

(Thank you for paving the way,  A. Driskell!!)

A random thought:

(Your random inspired my Unrandom… thank you for leading the way, N. Bowers!!)