Brooke Stafford: Guest Blogger

It's almost 2012 so why not start the year off eating healthy foods? Love your mind body and soul equally. Enjoy this week's guest blog from Brooke Stafford.

10 Holiday Foods That are Good for You
by Brooke Stafford

As you know, there are many topics to be tackled both on this blog and abroad. In that spirit, we thought we would share some timely tips for the holiday season. Which means it’s that time again. Time to attend the numerous holiday feasts, pack on the pounds, and then swear you’ll lose it all on New Year. However, did you know that not all holiday foods are calorie killers? To help, we have gathered a list of just ten holiday foods that can be good for you.

1. Turkey – The staple of any holiday feast, that holiday turkey is not the diet faux pas it is made to be. It is essentially poultry that is often baked. It contains lots of protein, little fat, and good old tryptophan for better sleep. Avoid gravy, stuffing, or fried turkey.

2. Sweet potato – Did you know that in some parts of the world, tribesman eat sweet potato to help with fertility issues? Although it might not be a scientific cure for infertility, sweet potatoes or yams are high in beta-carotene, an essential vitamin. They also have loads of other nutrients and are best when prepared simply.

3. Cranberry sauce – Not all condiments are bad. It is low in fat, has tons of Vitamin C, fiber, and other antioxidants. Although preparing your own fresh is better, the canned non-fructose kind is still a good choice.

4. Hot chocolate – That favorite, comforting winter beverage doesn’t have to be denied. A hot chocolate that is made with natural chocolate and organically can actually be good for you. Chocolate in its natural form has antioxidants and other essential nutrients. If it is made with hot water instead of whole milk or cream, it is also low in calories.

5. Hard cheeses – The cheese platter is often a holiday staple. However, there are many kinds of cheeses that are high in calcium, low in fat, and are outright delicious. A good tip is to stick to the harder cheeses and avoid the spreadable ones.

6. Green beans – Is someone brining a green bean casserole to the next holiday dinner? It isn’t a bad idea to have some. Green beans are low in calories, high in numerous vitamins, and can help protect bones. Avoid casseroles with heavy cream sauces and/or loads of breading.

7. Chestnuts – Whether roasted or the old fashioned way, chestnuts are an excellent source of manganese, copper, and a good source of magnesium. They are also lower in fat than many other nuts.

8. Pumpkin – If you have to eat a dessert on the holidays, try this one. Pumpkins are high in carotenoids, potassium, and fiber. Try and stick to pies made with sugar alternatives, and eat as little of the crust as possible.

9. Cinnamon – The spice is often associated with the holidays. However, it has also been known as a super spice. It has been said to lower blood sugar, improve diabetes, and even help combat bacterial infections. Try sweetening your coffee, tea, or other treat with cinnamon instead of sugar for the holidays.

10. Red wine – Because holidays and drinking go hand in hand, try this healthy alternative to egg nog. A glass of red wine has only 80 calories, compared to 360 for egg nog. Red wine can also be good for the heart.

Brooke Stafford is a nursing practitioner student and also writes for Family Nurse Practitioner Degrees. The site helps students find the right nurse practitioner degree to fit their needs.

Glass Goddesses, Concrete Walls - Chapter 1 (sample)

Glass Goddesses, Concrete Walls (Sample)
by Keith Kareem Williams

Diana and the Gun - Part 1

I jumped so suddenly from my sleep that I couldn't remember what I had been dreaming. I don't know how she'd gotten into my apartment in the middle of the night. I don't know why I didn't hear her walk into my bedroom. I don't know how she even managed to lift the handgun that looked heavier than she was or why she had it pointed at me. Everything just seemed surreal as she ranted on and on in a freakishly super villain-sounding monologue. Her threats were riddled with weird emotional outbursts in a murderous tone, all swirling around in a hurricane of rage and tears. I guess it served me right for being arrogant enough to assume that she would go away quietly when I decided to break things off between us.

"Put the gun down!" I yelled at Dany, even though I was sure that she wouldn’t listen. Judging by the way she had been talking for the past fifteen minutes, she sounded prepared to use it, first on me and then on herself. Still, it was worth trying to talk her out of it. I definitely didn't want to die but the initial panic had subsided. The only thing left was the peaceful acceptance that this was going to happen, whether or not I wanted it to. I can't even explain or fully understand why I was so calm, considering that I was facing my own execution. The half-empty bottle of Wray & Nephew over-proof Jamaican white rum on my nightstand probably had a lot to do with that.

"Don't yell at me! I'm the one with the gun!"

"Ok, so let me ask you nicely. Put the gun down. Better?" I asked sarcastically. Obviously it wasn't better because she stormed over to where I was sitting on the edge of my bed and pressed the barrel against my forehead. At least she looked good doing it, dressed as she was in a tight, black party dress and high heels. For a split second, I forgot to hate her. I could smell that she wore the perfume that I liked on her too. I had already sworn to myself that I would never sleep with her again but if she hadn't been trying to kill me, I might have touched her everywhere she liked and eventually gave her what she usually wanted. I hate to admit it but there was something wildly sexy about her standing over me with the gun…more so if this was sexplay and not serious.

"Go ahead. Beg me not to kill you."

"Why? If you're going do it, you're going do it. Why beg?"

"You have that look on your face like I won't," she said and raised the gun high up in the air. I should have tried to grab her arm then, a mistake I would regret in a second because what followed was the barrel of the gun smashing against the side of my head. I suppose that love tap was meant to show me how firm she was in her resolve. My brain felt like it bounced around like a football inside my skull.

"That wasn't necessary," I groaned.

"Yes it was because you still think I'm playing with you. You always think I'm playing with you."

"No, I don't think you're playing with me. I know you're serious. I just don't feel like begging."

"So you don't care if I blow your damn head off?"

"Of course I care. You think I woke up thinking I was going to get shot today? I'm just not begging you." It would also have been a shame to get blood all over everything. Earlier that evening I had put my best linens on the bed. Of course, that was a miniscule dilemma on my list of problems at the moment but my mind always had a tendency to be plagued with random thoughts at inappropriate times.

"For a man who's always claimed to love his life so much you don't seem to love it so much now."

"This doesn't have anything to do with how much I love my life. Whatever's going to happen is just going to happen. I've always accepted that, even as a kid," I answered defiantly. My perilous predicament made me think back to a time when I had been terrified to die, once upon a time.

***Hope you enjoyed this. My question is, after reading that opening, would you turn the page to see what happens next? Leave a comment and let me know. I may just post more so you can understand where I'm going with this book. As usual, fasten your seatbelts. ***

Untapped Book Trailer

I hope you enjoyed the trailer for the latest anthology to feature one of my stories. (I get excited every time I see my name in the credits) I had a great time working on this project with the folks from Naughty Ink. In case you forgot, here's a sample of my story, "Bring Me Back"

Bring Me Back
By Keith Kareem Williams

PART 1 - It Echoes… the Dream…That is…
“Shoot him!” were the words that boomed from the deep male voice that still echoed in his ears but it was her beautiful face that haunted his sleep. The look in those pretty green eyes as they filled with tears, right before she pulled the trigger had become a permanent fixture of his nightly nightmare. His blood ran feverishly hot and caused him to sweat profusely in his sleep. His blood ran feverishly hot and caused him to sweat profusely in his sleep. His body shook uncontrollably as he remembered how the slugs felt as they tore through his flesh. Over and over he re-lived the same scene in his dreams. Each time he felt like he died, again and again. He choked on the deep darkness of troubled sleep until a feminine hand on his shoulder brought him back to the safety of the bright lights of his room.
“Wake up. You’re dreaming again,” she said. Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away although she stood right above him in his hospital bed. Rome Wade opened his eyes to Magda Riley’s warm, pleasant smile.
Magda was his favorite nurse. Her touch calmed him and her voice was like the sunrise after a night of terrors. She only worked the night-shift so he knew that it couldn’t be morning yet. He turned his head and a quick glance out of the window confirmed that it was still night. The darkness imposed its will heavily on the few lights that still illuminated the windows of the buildings in the big city. Because of his recurring dream, the wee hours when the sun abandoned the sky had taken on the persona of a deadly living thing to him that heralded terrors he couldn’t seem to escape. He turned away from the window and found comfort in the sadness of Magda’s eyes as she looked down at him with genuine worry and concern. There was also a veil of grief that covered her face. This was because whenever she looked at him, she remembered her own son that had been gunned down violently in the streets, years before. She had never truly recovered from the death of her only child. Rome’s eyes reminded her of her son’s so much that she had taken it upon herself to give him extra, tender, loving care above all others on her floor. The other nurses teased her for babying him but she didn’t mind. For her, it was a chance to do something that she hadn’t been able to do for her own child. It was therapy for her. Every night Rome would toss violently in his sleep. Every night Magda would bring him back from the place where his recent past tormented him. Her soothing voice and her touch anchored him to the real world and kept him from drifting away to be claimed by his own dark thoughts.
“Thanks for waking me,” Rome told her, putting his hand on her hand. She delicately wiped the sweat from his brow with a clean cloth.
“Same dream?” Magda asked.
“Always,” Rome sighed.
“She really did a number on you didn’t she?” Magda asked. Many times, he’d described to her exactly what he dreamt of every night.
“Yeah, I guess she really did. You know, I used to get turned on every time I even thought about Gia. Now, the only time I can even remember her face is in this damn dream,” he said.
“You told me that it was her that shot you. I don’t know why you don’t just tell the police,” Magda said, shaking her head.
“I can’t,” he answered.
“And from what you tell me, she shot you on another man’s command? What loyalty do you owe this girl? She shot you so he could leave your body to rot in an alley in the streets,” she reminded him.
“I’m not dead yet though,” he answered.
“No, but you could have been. You almost were. Why are you still protecting people who tried to kill you?” Magda asked.
“Because I have to,” he answered.
“Why? Why do you have to?” Magda demanded to know. It was the first time he had seen her anywhere near angry. His stubbornness had been the main cause but unbeknownst to him, there were many other mixed emotions tied into her shift in temperament as well. She was also slightly jealous of this “girl” that he would often ramble on and on about. Most of their conversations consisted of him explaining why he loved Gia so much. She couldn’t help but feel envious of his passion for his former lover. She was certain that there wasn’t a man on the planet rambling on and on about her.
“Because I plan to handle this myself, in my own way,” he said, hoping that her mood would lighten. It didn’t.
“So they can finish what they started? Or, maybe you succeed and end up spending the rest of your life in prison for murder?” she continued to scold him in her own quiet manner. She still hadn’t raised her voice but he could feel the fury in her tone.
“I’m sorry to make you worry about me so much. I know you really want me to be well. You’ve done enough. I’m grateful for how you take care of me. I see the way you look at me,” he told her. Magda blushed and looked away from him. She wondered if he sensed the times when she looked at him with more than just motherly eyes. The sudden wave of embarrassment that came crashing down on her almost made her leave the room. Instead, she composed herself, stayed by his side and tried her best to make him as comfortable as possible.
Meanwhile, Rome was comforted and soothed by her bedside manner. His own mother had died when he was very young. After that, his father had remarried three times to much younger women who all treated him like wicked stepmothers. He hated how his childhood had turned into a cheesy, cliché mockery of a fairy-tale. Now, as he lay in a hospital bed recovering from gunshot wounds, Magda reminded him of how his mother used to treat him for the short time he had her in his life. He felt like a pervert because there were times when he became aroused as Magda cared for him. She was a much older woman and came very close to being old enough to have a son his age. He wondered if he had developed some sick type of Oedipus complex. As much as he had tried to keep his intentions innocent, the way her nurse’s uniform hugged her body, top and bottom, excited him. The bright white of the material made her seem pure and angelic. He tried his best to control the random sexual thoughts that entered his mind when he looked at her. It felt like the worst kind of sin to even think about corrupting this woman who had showed him nothing but kindness.
“Do you want me to stay? I can read to you until you fall asleep again if you’d like?” she asked.
“Yes, I’d like that. Your voice keeps the nightmares away,” he answered. Magda smiled, sat down in the chair next to his hospital bed and began to read softly to him from one of her favorite novels, Water Flows Under Doors. Rome listened to her voice until he drifted off to sleep again.


PART 2 - Clean
Magda could have let the next shift of nurses take care of Rome’s sponge-bath but she preferred to do it herself. It relaxed her and reminded her of the times she had done the same for her husband when his kidneys had failed him, leaving him almost helpless when his condition became grave. It felt better in many ways to care for this young man for many reasons. In the past, she had nursed her husband to ease his suffering as he died. This time, her efforts brought a young man who probably should have died from his injuries closer to being well again. It was very different from the time when, no matter how hard she tried to hold on, she had felt her husband slip closer and closer to that final darkness that we are all guaranteed to see eventually. It was beautiful to watch someone bloom instead of wither and it was magical to use her hands for healing instead of struggling to hold on.
Rome kept his eyes off of Magda as she bathed him. He tried his best to keep his thoughts clean and innocent the entire time. Still, it had been such a long time since he’d been so close to a woman that he couldn’t help but get excited. He imagined that it was her soft hands and not the sponge on his bare flesh. He looked at her but quickly turned away. The sight of her breasts squeezed against the front of her uniform as she bent over him was too much. He shut his eyes and made up his mind not to look at her again until she was finished. Gia still haunted his dreams but he found himself more and more attracted to Magda despite the fact that she was the total opposite of the woman he had loved.
Magda was a pretty woman even though she was also much older than Gia. It made Rome wonder just how good-looking she had been before time had taken its toll on her. He imagined that she must have truly been something to behold. Even with the age lines on her face, she was still amazing. Also, her spirit burned brighter than anyone he had ever known. He figured that was the explanation for his strange attraction to her. He had a lust for her light. He had fallen in love with the deep sadness that had always seemed to surround Gia. He understood it and he had been able to relate to it. Before she had riddled him with bullets, he believed he had found a kindred soul. He wondered if he only liked Magda because her pleasant optimism was refreshing in comparison to what he had been obsessed with before. His foolish, undying hunger for Gia had not diminished but the seeds of his desire for Magda had been planted. He wondered what those seeds might blossom into. He was also very tentative abut starting with her because he didn’t see how following his instincts and seducing Magda would end up growing into anything good.
While Rome tried to tame his own passions and make sense of his emotions, Magda wrestled with her own feelings. She noticed his gaze when it landed on her breasts and she saw how quickly he uncomfortably looked away. She was flattered rather than embarrassed and made no effort to close the two top buttons that she was certain left her uniform way too open. She liked his eyes on the soft flesh of her cleavage. It had been a long time since a young man had looked at her the way Rome had started to. It had been far too long since she’d felt like a young woman. She’d grown far too accustomed to having old men gawk and grope at her. It had been far too long since she’d been this close to a man she was attracted to. She openly admitted to herself for the first time that she was hungry for him. She studied the bullet wounds on his body as she bathed him. The scars told the story of his near-death experience. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived. Magda put the sponge down and used her fingers to touch the where places where Gia had blown holes in him. He had healed nicely. As she ran her wet fingers down his stomach, her eyes became fixed between his legs as she realized that he was once again well in other areas. The longer she kept her hands on him was the larger his erection grew. She could feel herself become damp in her most feminine place as she watched it throb as it swelled. Rome’s eyes were still closed but she wondered if he could sense how she stared at it hungrily. It was like watching a tree grow unnaturally fast, right in front of her eyes. It had been too long since she’d tasted a man or felt one deep inside her. Her body ached for that feeling again and before she could stop herself, she reached out and grabbed him by the shaft. It had been too long since she’d done something bold and impulsive.
Rome gasped as he felt Magda grip him firmly. Her touch could not have been mistaken for being innocent or inadvertent. She wrapped her delicate fingers around him with purpose. He opened his eyes wide, almost believing he had fallen asleep. Their eyes met for an awkward moment and he expected her to let go. She did not. Instead, she began to stroke it slowly as she looked into his face, yearning for his approval to do more. He raised his hand slowly, nervously. He wanted to hold her head and guide her lips to his tip. The look in her eyes said that that was exactly what she was longing for him to do. The danger of being discovered caused her heart to pound in her chest. Her chest heaved as she looked over her shoulder to make sure that the room door was still closed. Rome put his fingers in her thick, black hair but then he hesitated. He pulled his hand away and turned away from her. Magda was disappointed and embarrassed. She let go of him and felt like a silly, horny, old woman.

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Blackbirds Feasting by Keith Kareem Williams

I've been locked away in the lab like a mad scientist working on my new book. As promised, here's a random chapter from "Glass Goddesses, Concrete Walls" to give you a taste of what I've been up to.

Blackbirds Feasting

(A random chapter from "Glass Goddesses, Concrete Walls" by Keith Kareem Williams)

I remember how her sandy, brown hair tickled my bare skin. At the moment, it was a wild mess. She always laid her head on my chest after we had sex. She said that she liked to listen to how my heart pounded right after we were done. With her ear pressed against me, she could hear the way my voice sounded different from the inside when I spoke.

"Why don’t you believe me when I say that I love you?" Chelsea asked before she planted a soft kiss on my chest, close to my armpit. She sighed and breathed deeply. She used to tell me how much she liked the way I smelled. I had nicknamed her the "T-shirt burglar" because every time she came over, I was sure to be missing one. She would take them home and wear the ones I'd worn whenever she missed me.

"Because if you loved me like you say you do, then your sexy friend in the shower wouldn't be here and all three of us wouldn't have done what we just did," I answered dryly. I tried not to sound too cruel but I also wasn't in the mood for Chelsea's to clinginess. In public, her ego would never allow her to seem clingy or obsessed with me. In front of everyone else, she radiated supreme confidence and gave off the vibe that I was the lucky to be with her which I happened to always find humorous. When we were alone, this is who she was.

"Oh please. That was nothing. You think I'm so blind that I don't know that you're with other women besides me? I don't like it but I know I'm not the only one," she answered and slapped me playfully on my bare chest.

"Well, I'm sure you know. It's not like I make it any big secret. Still, you've never actually watched me have sex with any of them. Like the old, wise people say, what eyes don't see, hearts don't grieve," I told her. I realized how cold that must have sounded but it was better this way. I've always been a horrible liar anyway. She sat up next to me.

"Uhm, in case you didn't notice, I just saw you fuck another woman right in front of me. Both of you gave me a few orgasms so I know I didn't dream it," she reminded me. I looked over at the thick, white steam that tumbled out of the half-open bathroom door where her pretty friend was still in the shower.

"That's my point. If you loved me you would've never brought another woman into the bedroom with us."

"You jealous of her? Wondering if I like women more?" she giggled.

"You should laugh because that's not it at all. That hadn't even crossed my mind."

"So what is it then?" she asked softly, close enough to my ear that I felt the tickle of her words as they left her lips. Before I could answer, she ran her wet tongue across the head of the dragon tattoo on my shoulder. Slowly, she licked the scales and followed the intricate, inked design of the mythological beast that wrapped around my entire arm. She tasted every part of its body until she kissed the tail which ended at my wrist.

"This feels like you started to think I was losing interest so you decided to spice things up." Even at that moment, as her mouth and nimble fingers touched me all over, I could tell that Chelsea was trying to subdue me with her sensuality. Most women sent sexy pictures or wore lingerie when they felt me drifting away from their beds. Chelsea had taken things to whole new level when she set up the circumstances for our threesome to take place. She always did whatever she could to outdo the other women I was involved with.

"You didn't like it?" she asked as she slid her hand under the sheet, groping me with a mischievous smile when she felt that I was still hard and sticky from sex.

"Of course I liked it but that's not the point."

"Your problem is you talk and think too much. What were we talking about again?" she asked sarcastically as she stuck her head under the sheets and kissed my thigh. I still remember how sweet her thin lips felt. They were the total opposite of the thick, juicy lips between her legs.

"You're just fascinated by the idea of me loving you back as much as you think you love me." As soon as I said that, all of the touching, kissing, licking and caressing stopped. She was probably right when she said I talked and thought too much. I've never been very good at going with the flow and letting things be when I had a lot on my mind or had an issue to address. I guess I didn't come with an on/off switch.

"You know, you're real ungrateful. Most men would have been in a state of satisfied bliss after doing what all three of us just did," she said. She was probably right. This wasn't the first opportunity I had to have a threesome but the other one hadn't worked out at all. In fact, it had turned out to be a real disaster. Everything had seemed to be in place for it to happen but, the fact that both women claimed that they weren't into women rained on that parade. One watched while I had sex with the other so it hadn't been a totally fruitless entanglement but it certainly wasn't what I had planned.

"Eh, I guess so," was my response and she definitely didn't like it. I shouldn't have answered like that but as usual, I could sense the unmistakable air of arrogance in the tone she had started to use with me. Things like that always did get under my skin. "Well, if that's your attitude, why did you bother doing it?"

"I guess I did it just to do it. It'll probably lead to more trouble than it was worth anyway."

"And how do you figure that?" she asked, sitting up and folding her arms across her bare breasts. I could tell she was upset by the way the muscles in her arms tensed.

"When you left the room to get us drinks, I couldn't find my phone. Your friend told me to give her my number so she could dial it for me. After it rang and I found it, I watched her store my number in her phone." Of course I didn't tell Chelsea that I only pretended that I didn't know where my phone was to set the whole thing up. I'd suspected that her friend was shady and she turned out to be. I always had a gift for sensing that type.

"You don't know that. Maybe she was checking her text messages…or her emails."

"Maybe, but I doubt it."

"Ugh, you're so arrogant. Who says she wants you like that?"

"Arrogance and confidence are cousins but don't ever mistake one for the other. Trust me, I can tell she likes me."

"Listen, it was just sex."

"It always is until somebody's heart gets caught up in it…until somebody's feelings get hurt," I told her deliberately. I could tell she caught my meaning by the way she glared at me.

"It's no big deal. Selena knows the rules. This was a one-time thing that I asked her to do for me as a favor," she insisted which offended me. It sounded too much like she believed she had tossed a dog, (the dog being me) a bone.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes, I am. And wipe that smug look off of your face too," she said as she playfully palmed my face with her hand. I've always hated people touching my face. I don't know why exactly but I've always found it annoying.

"I know something that you don't know," I said, knowing that it was probably better that I kept my mouth shut.

"And what's that?"

"When we were all enjoying each other's company, and I was giving it to you from behind, while your face was buried between her legs, I saw her take off one of her earrings and drop it under the bed. She was biting her bottom lip and looking right at me when she did it. Check under the bed right now if you don't believe me," I told her smugly. My ego weighed a ton at that moment and why shouldn't it? I just had sex with two gorgeous women with amazing bodies. Chelsea was pale as milk but her body was voluptuous and curvy. Her friend…no, our friend, Selena was the color of honey and just as sweet. Even as they took turns with me, and I took turns with them, it had been impossible not to feel like a king. Only rich men and celebrities found themselves in situations like that, especially with women as beautiful as they both were. I was just an independent author, still very far from famous, trying to make a name for myself, living in that moment like a rock star. Chelsea frowned as she reached under the bed and frowned when she found Selena's hoop earring, right where I said it would be.

"She probably took it off so it wouldn't get tangled in the sheets or snagged in her hair," she answered, sounding slightly less confident.

"Ok, but why wouldn't she take out both? Why take out one and leave the other?"

"I don't know."

"I'll tell you why. At some point tomorrow, she's going to call me to ask if she might have left it here. She'll pretend that that's all she wanted but if I entertain her with a little more conversation than I should, she won't stop me. Eventually, she'll want to meet up with me somewhere to get her earring back. One thing will lead to the next and I'll end up fucking your friend…again," I told her coldly.

"She wouldn't!"

"She WOULD and she plans to."

"She isn't even into men."

"Probably not but she's definitely into me. It's probably because you went running your mouth about how much you love me. She wants me because you want me. Some women are spiteful like that."

Chelsea kept quiet for a few moments, taking in everything I just told her. She looked hurt, confused and pink as her cheeks became flushed.

"Would you have sex with her behind my back if she asked you to?"

"Probably. I mean, I just did right in front of you so why not behind your back?"

"And what would happen if I found out about it?"

"Oh, your friend would apologize. She'd say that it was a mistake and tearfully tell you how sorry she was, over and over again. Of course, all of that would be a lie. Believe me when I tell you, these types of allegedly accidental entanglements are NEVER mistakes."

"You're evil. I don't even know why I love you."

"Like I told you before sweetness, you don't. You only think you do. If you did, it would have broken your little heart to watch me have sex with another woman," I told her, playfully poking her in the chest above her heart before I used the same finger to touch her stiff nipple.

"Stop it. You and all of your damn theories. You swear you know everything. You can't tell me how I'm supposed to love you."

"I'm not telling you how to love me. I'm telling you that you don't love me at all. Not really. You just like me a lot. And that's fine. I'm fine with that. I accept it and I can live with it," I told her and leaned closer to kiss her on the forehead. She was so much prettier to me when she was sad. I've always found tragic grace and beauty in the deeply melancholy moods of women. It made me wonder if I sometimes made them sad on purpose. She turned away from me so I planted a second kiss on her cheek.

"But I do though. I know I do. I've never met a man like you before."

"That may be true but it still doesn't mean you're in love with me. It'll pass and one day you'll wake up feeling like you had been dreaming," I told her, deliberately placing a third kiss on the nape of her neck.

"I like dreaming," she answered as she began to gently fondle her own breasts.

"Of course you do…and you want me to dream too right?" I asked, moving her hand away and replacing it with my mouth. My tongue circled her nipple and she loved it.

"Why not? What's wrong with dreaming?"

"Nothing," I answered as I started to kiss her stomach. It wasn't completely flat but I didn't like women with washboard abs anyway. It made them look too masculine. I had grown weary of the entire discussion and I sought a quick end to it. The only thing I wanted to do was put my hands all over her voluptuous, soft, willing body.

"So why can't we just dream together?" she asked, holding my head as I bit her thigh.

"Because you'd wake up before me," I answered and looked up at her. Chelsea held my face in her hands and looked directly into my eyes. There was something different about the way she touched my face that time that I didn't mind.

"And what does that mean?"

"I know what you want from me. It's the same thing every woman I know wants. You want me to be in love with you because you want to be loved," I said. This time she leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips before she spoke.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"You want me to give you something that I can't."

"And why can't you?"

"Because the truth is that you tell yourself that you love me because I won't give you what you want. If I ever did, I'd be finished. The challenge for you would be gone but I'd be hopelessly trapped in the dream long after you woke up," I answered calmly without even a hint of the passion I'd just used while kissing and touching her. It felt as if the last candle in a dark room had been blown out.

"What happened to you? Why are you like this? Do you even believe in love?"

"I actually do. I believe in it more than most and my definition of it is much deeper than what most could understood. That's why I know when it's not real."

"According to your definition of course?"

"Yes, according to my definition."

She took her hands away and looked away again. She pulled her wild, sandy brown hair out of her face and twisted it into a ponytail. When I tried to touch her hand she dragged it away from me and pulled the bed sheets up to her neck.

"Don't touch me."

"What the matter now? You know I don't lie."

"I'm sure you've loved other women. You've even told me so yourself so why not me?"

"It's not you."

"Are you serious right now? How could it not be me?"

"I've lived the same dream that you want me to live with you right now. It wasn't a good look when it ended. I swore I'd never get into all that again. There's nothing wrong with you if that's what you're thinking. It's my choice."

"So you're never going to care about me? Never going to love me? Is that what you choose?"

"I care about you now."

"No you don't."

"Of course I do. If I didn't, you wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here. I don't talk about things like this with women I don't care about. As soon as you started asking questions I would have ended the conversation or changed the subject."

"Oh, is that so? Whatever!"

"Don't pout. You're prettier when you laugh, or smile, or moan."

"Whatever. There's absolutely nothing to smile about right now. What am I to you…really?"

"You're one of my pretty blackbirds."

"A blackbird? I'm as pale as milk. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It has nothing to do with your complexion silly. It has everything to do with the way you are with me," I started to explain. She let me touch her as she waited for the rest of my answer. She opened her legs just enough to let my fingers explore the wet space between her creamy thighs. Insatiable curiosity had always been her weakness. It would be her undoing one day as well as mine if I let it. Women like Chelsea never felt comfortable taking roots in one place. They craved adventure, only respected challenges and hungered for new things. I would only hurt myself trying to hold her so I didn't try to, no matter how much she seemed to want me to do just that.

"Tell me why I'm one of your blackbirds," she whispered.

"You sense how passionate I can be. You want what I gave those other women so you circle above my life…waiting. What you don't know is that loving them the way I did nearly killed me. Just like a blackbird, you circle…and you wait….and you wait some more for me to give in and fall. If I did, you'd perch on my body and feast on everything I had to give but even after your belly was full, I doubt it would be enough. After my heart, my soul and my bones were picked clean, you would just fly away but I'd still be dead."

"That is a very twisted and fucked up way to look at things. In that case, I don't want to be one of your blackbirds," she said, closing her legs and squeezing my hand, just a little.

"Maybe," I answered, pulling the sheet away to expose her naked body. She started to open her mouth, probably to burden me with the weight of more questions but when I parted her other lips with my fingers, she let out a lustful sigh instead.

"Well, if I'm one of your blackbirds, what part of you do I want to eat now?" she asked, grabbing me roughly between my legs as she licked her lips.

"All of my blackbirds want the same thing. You either want to claw away at my chest to eat away at whatever heart I have left or…you want to pluck out my eyes so that I can love you blindly without seeing you for who you really are," I answered. She smiled before she put her head between my legs.

"And what kind of blackbird am I?" she mumbled while I was in her mouth.

"Right now, you're the kind of blackbird that I'm about to fuck like it's your last day on Earth!"

"What's going on here?" Selena asked, fresh out the shower and wrapped in one of my bath towels. Chelsea stopped sucking and sat straight up. Her body language completely changed as soon as she realized that her friend was back n the bedroom with us.

"Waiting for you," I told Selena as I spread Chelsea's thighs to expose her juicy pink lips. She fought me a little but not much.

"I don't," Chelsea started to protest. People always glorify the amazing things about a threesome but they hardly ever speak of the negatives…like the jealousy that almost always plays its ugly part. One woman always wonders if you preferred the other to her. It always spoils the mood.

"Let's fuck her one more time," I whispered so only Chelsea could hear me.

"Just once," she whispered back to me. I knew that she was doing it for me this time and somehow, that turned me on even more.

Selena dropped her towel and climbed up on the bed. I put my hand on her damp, jet-black hair and guided her head between Chelsea's legs even though I was sure she knew the way.

***Well, that's it for now. If you want MORE...just leave a comment and ask for it.***

In the meantime, while you wait for me to complete "Glass Goddesses,Concrete Walls," you can find other books by me here: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0063K6JJC

REVIEW of Sometimes Brooklyn, Mostly Mars by Keith Kareem Williams

5-Star Review of "Sometimes Brooklyn, Mostly Mars"

It took me a year of collecting my thoughts to put this book together so this review made me very proud. I'm very grateful that it has been well-recieved so far.  


 5.0 out of 5 stars An honest look inside the mind of a writer..., December 14, 2011


By S. E. Henry (Melbourne, FL USA) - See all my reviews

(REAL NAME)

This review is from: Sometimes Brooklyn, Mostly Mars (Paperback)

...is a rare and wonderful thing. Sometimes Brooklyn, Mostly Mars by Keith Kareem Williams is precisely that. The short pieces contained within are presented in an interesting and convenient format, perfect for daily doses of the stirring words of a gifted writer. More importantly, however, is the fact that every piece places the reader in the world of the author - a world fraught with humor, pain, longing, love, joy, and a myriad of other emotions which linger long after the book has been closed.

Among my favorite pieces are: Happy Father's Day, a poignant look glimpse into the life of a single father who chases his dreams and remains perfectly clear-headed about why he chases them; The End?, a short prose-poem (though I am loathe to put a label on it at all) examining the marvel of having a front row seat for the end of the earth; and Through Her Looking Glass, which is the very kind of poetry which makes women fall in love with poetry - simple, direct, and unbelievably romantic and sexy.

There are a handful of editing mistakes, but even as a grammar snob and editor, those minor little things did not detract from the outstanding experience of the book for me...not one iota.

I wholeheartedly recommend this book for every reader. Great gift idea for nearly anyone, even for yourself. And while you're at it, also check out Williams' two novels, Water Flows Under Doors and Open Spaces. Williams is an incredibly talented writer, and his stories are brilliantly woven.

***I'd like to thank Susie Henry for taking the time to write this review and also for her support of my work***
If you're curious....here's the link to purchase copies

Autographed copies:

https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=Z5P8UAXCSGU22

Kindle version: http://www.amazon.com/Sometimes-Brooklyn-Mostly-Mars-ebook/dp/B005J85TFO/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1323920955&sr=8-2

The Handle or the Blade?

The Handle or the Blade?

by Keith Kareem Williams

Most people are either dying for love or living to run from it. There used to be a middle ground…a balance if you will but somehow, in our modern era, the dividing lines have been lost. What most people have been left with is either the hurt of having loved once and lost or the hunger caused by never having the real thing at all.

As a senior in high school, I had a chemistry teacher that threatened to fail the entire class without mercy or remorse if he had to. We all complained about how unfair it would be for us to have to go to summer school because that meant that we wouldn't graduate on time. He laughed and explained that "fairness" in life was an imaginary concept. He denounced the notion that a perfectly level playing field or perfectly balanced scales existed in any way, shape or form. It seemed harsh at the time to our optimistic young minds but I've grown up since then. It didn't take long being out in the real world to realize that he was 100% right. One day I'll go back and let him know just how right he was….if he's still alive. (It's been many moons since I was in High School.)

When it comes to matters of the heart, things will never be fair or equal. One person will ALWAYS love harder than the other, even if they try not to show it. People hide this at times as a defense mechanism and who can really blame them? There really is a lot at stake and no one wants to become totally lost in someone else's light. The entire situation is as dangerous as a sharpened knife.

Unfortunately, because fairness in the true sense of the word is a myth, someone has to hold the handle and the other person is left holding the blade. This is the conflict that destroys relationships. The person holding the blade knows how vulnerable they are so at times, they will fight to take the handle. Then, there are times when the person holding the handle abuses the advantage they have, leaving deep wounds and scars as a result. Sometimes, people destroy each other by just fighting and shifting positions.

I've lived a little bit so I've learned not to really fear much. If things just happen to work out where I'm the one holding the handle, I promise not to hurt you. I can't stop YOU from dragging your hand away and hurting yourself though. It may just work out in such a way that I'm the one with a firm grip on the knife's blade. I don't mind because, as I just said, I don't fear much. If you decide to pull away, I'll just hold my bloody hand up as I walk away. I don't even mind the scars. They make interesting conversation pieces and add character to a person's life.

One thing I WILL warn though: You should ALWAYS KNOW which side of the knife you're holding…at all times.

GUEST BLOGGER: Reincarnation By Ann

Welcome to the 1st post ever featuring a Guest Blogger on The Gully God Chronicles. I thought it was only right that it would be written by someone who is technically, not a professional writer but shows love and support to my entire movement. Ann follows my blog and supports my work. As you all know, I read all of the comments and respond to every one. (Not always right away but I make sure that I do.) Ann's comments on the posts always stood out to me and even though she isn't an author, I believe that she has potential to be. I invited her to be a guest blogger and this is what she sent. Enjoy.

"Reem,

Hello! I'm Ann- a follower on your blog and huge fan of your work (You said to hit you up if I wanted to do a guest blog post sometime).

I have been debating whether I could write a blog post, not being a writer. While reading "Sometimes Brooklyn, Mostly Mars" I realized yet again that we have some echoed experiences relating to that thin line between love and hate. So I decided just maybe I have something to put into words. Not sure what you had in mind but here's something that flowed from me. Let me know what you think. You can't hurt my feelings- I always prefer honesty."

Ann

Reincarnation

"I once loved a man so much I gave him my all; that's right all of me. I gave him all my love, my heart. I gave him all my body, my sexuality. I gave him all my beliefs, my opinions. I gave him all my personality, my spirit. I gave that man respect, then all my self-respect; support, then all my confidence; warmth, then all my comfort. I gave. I gave until there was nothing left but a shell of the woman I once was; a mirage of the woman that fell in love with that man. Then….He left!

My world came tumbling down around me. In the shower, in the car, at work, at home, with my kids, in bed; a constant falling apart; a painful- no an excruciating falling apart. I was lost in a world full of people. I was lost, no longer a person I recognized. No hopes, no dreams, no ideas, no drive, no desires, even the past was empty(blank) as if it had been wiped away.

Years went by and I was stuck in that spot; self-destruction in slow motion, but no knowledge of self to save, to ask for help, just going through the motions, barely... Until I couldn't rise up one more day to play the game called life. It was me...hitting "bottom," deciding to live or die.

I lived. I am alive.

I once loved a man so much that I gave him all of me. Now I'm back, better than ever. Not the woman whose past was surreal, but a woman with a painful past experience, with many lessons learned. Now I am reinventing myself each moment of each day. My life is all hopes, all dreams, all ideals, all opinions, all desires and all looking to the future without forgetting the past. When I hit bottom I was blessed to find my ground zero in God and like the Phoenix I rose from the ashes more alive than ever before. I know who I am and who I'm not. I know what I want and what I don't. I know what I can and will put up with and what I won't. I am not going to lose me again- to love a man. I'll love and love completely but only where I can remain 'me'.

If you are living for someone else STOP NOW! You are only erasing the person you are or oppressing the person you could be. Save yourself for the real love who will enhance you not absorb you."

Sent from my iPhone

Dear Ann,
Let's see, what do I think? Hmmm? And you said you're not a writer huh? Since you prefer honesty, I'll be honest. I think you should be thinking about writing more often. Good job. Again, thanks for following the blog and for sending this in.
 
                                                                                                                        Sincerely,
                                                                                                                        Reem

Excerpt of Lost Hours by DK Gaston

Excerpt of Lost Hours by DK Gaston

 

Welcome to my blog's 2nd installment of "WRITER WEDNESDAY" where I feature other authors whose work I am impressed by. Some of you have asked me for reading suggestions. Well, here you go. This week, I introduce you to DK Gaston who also writes under Keith Gaston, one of my co-authors on "Crossroads: An Anthology" Listen to this excerpt from his novel, "The Lost Hours" and please check out his work.

Here is the link to some of his other work as well:
Amazon's DK Gaston Page: http://www.amazon.com/D-K-Gaston/e/B002BM21LQ/ref=sr_tc_ep?qid=1323286098

Get to Know AmW of Estetika Exposure

Get to Know AmW of Estetika Exposure

I came across this amazingly talented woman's artwork on Twitter when she posted the link to her website. (I have a thing for creativity and art.) There is always something special about people who see the world differently from most. It allows them to capture the soul of things in unique and beautiful ways that stir a wide range of emotions in those of us who appreciate such things. Enjoy and please stop by her website.

Q: At what age did you realize that you wanted to be an artist?

I’m not really sure when I recognized myself as an artist, but I do recall at a very young, perhaps 4 years old, sitting with my mother and showing her the picture of our house that I drew. I wanted to make the picture a little more interesting, so I attempted to draw our family on the outside of the house but after many attempts had failed. After much frustration, I turned to my mother asking for her help. She drew a stick figure person with clothes on it. For some reason I was just astonished by that and wanted to know how to do it. I wanted to be just as good as mommy was. So I tried and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to look exactly like hers. After being upset, I then became determined. I accepted that perhaps I wasn’t able to do the simplest drawing(s) so that’s when I accepted that it was okay to have my own style. From that point on I would say is when i wanted to continue to draw. I also have many talented family members who are into art and photography, so I guess it's fair to say that it runs in the family.

Q: Have you had formal training or are you self-taught?

I have no formal training in art however I did partake in basic drawing classes in high school in the late 90’s. However, I wouldn’t count that period of time because we basically traced everything while using a projector and then painting it in with water color. Now I know art comes in many forms but I felt cheated. I wanted a deeper look inside art. I wanted to explore my inner being. I want to express my feelings and emotions through art.

Q: Where do you find the inspiration for your art?

Inspiration for my art can come from people, places, emotions or just random thoughts. I also do customized art, so I communicate with a client to get a feel of who they are as well as a few basic questions and go from there.

Q: What is your creative process like?

My creative process is hard to keep up with sometimes, but I’m hanging on for the ride. At times I use my art as a means to “let off some steam”, or if I’m hyper off of coffee, (just kidding), my moods can motivate a piece of art. Sometimes I’ll just pick up a sketch pad with nothing in particular in mind that I want to draw. Wherever the lines take me is what allows me to be creative. Other times I’ll have conversations with those close to me and their vibes inspire me. So while we are talking on the phone, etc...I’m on the other line grabbing my pad and jotting random thoughts and ideas down that I envisioned, but I’m listening.

Q: What do you think makes your artistic vision so unique?

As many have told me, I paint with my soul. Its a belief of mine to do everything with love, rather its cooking or singing. When I paint, I let my heart talk on canvas and others relate to my visions.

Q: Who is your favorite artist?

I don’t currently have a favorite artist, as I don’t know too many. Therefore, I would have to say that I am the biggest fan of me. Is that wrong? I do however, appreciate the art works of other as well as brainstorming and working with others to make great art!

Q: Do you listen to music or prefer silence when you work? If you listen to music, what's on your playlist?

Sometimes I listen to music while I work but a majority of the time I prefer to work in silence and alone without spectators. My playlists consists of mostly spiritual/inspirational music. At times I find when I listen to music, based on the genre, it changes my mood as well as the look and feel of the piece, so again I prefer silence over music.

Q: Do you have a favorite piece that you've created? If you do, why does it stand out from the rest?

My very first piece which is my favorite, is called “My Africa” painted in December of 2000. This is an abstract of Africa where inside the shape of the continent you have landscape and the sun setting. But if you turn the painting upside down, you will see a mother holding her child. My Africa was based off of “Africa, The Motherland” theme. When I completed this, it absolutely blew my mind that God had allowed me to create something, and that I actually liked it. It was an awesome feeling. I only hope to continue to think outside the box and color outside the lines.

"My Africa" by AmW

Q: In terms of your career, what is the biggest challenge or obstacle?

One of the challenges that I thought I was faced with, is a challenge that I believe I have already overcome and only hope to continue to do so. That is, creating art that grabs audiences from all walks of life. Since joining social networks and talking with people all over the world and sharing my love and talent, I have been able to peak the interest of people in the USA, UK, Nigeria Africa. Truly a blessing.

Q: What has been the most amazing moment so far?

The most amazing moment thus far, has been sharing my art with the world. Discussing my passion and partaking in exciting dialect about my art and potential business opportunities, it actually is overwhelming. I honestly didn’t think I was as good as people portray me as. I stay humble and thank God everyday because I couldn’t do it without Him and the inspiration of others in my life.

Q: In a few hundred years, long after you're gone, what would you like for people to remember about you?

This is a hard question that I never really though about. I would only Hope that a hundred years from now that my work will still be appreciated and loved by many.

"Life's Journey" by AmW

"Through the hardships of love and life, tears and pain a new love is found in God." - AmW

For more art by AmW visit: http://www.wix.com/estetikaartbyamw/estetika-exposure

She is definitely awesome. I like her work so much that I asked her to redesign the bookcover for "Water Flows Under Doors" for me. Here's what she did: