#OldStuff :: Untitled [[7.21.09]]

take off your shoes, for the place where you stand is holy ground
right here at this altar where i kneel before the pen & paper the very gates of hell are opened up & i am forced to come face to face with my many demons
the skeletons in my closet
the ghosts of my past are here with me as i confess my sins
sins of loving too hard
of giving too much
of forsaking myself for others
i present them to you here on this paper
wet with the tears of great lamentation
stained with the scarlet red of re-opened wounds
this paper reaks with the stench of the sweat of my labor
i write these sins, these tragedies in order to free myself
free myself to live again
free myself to love again
free myself to smile in your face one more time
until the pain becomes too great to bear and i am forced to return to this sanctuary
sacrifice these thoughts in exchange for forgiveness
wipe my tears and dry my eyes so that i can free myself to smile in your face just one more time
i do not write for your enjoyment, entertainment or your amusement
i am not "sharing"
i am confessing
pleading guilty
repenting
seeking atonement for the indulgences of my heart i once again kneel at this altar where only God can judge me
& as i lay my crimes of passion before him
i humbly ask
"forgive me father, for my heart has a heart of its own"

#OldStuff :: The Things She Carries

[[pray for forgiveness >> alicia keys]]

it was her first time
she knew that because of this, it might take awhile to get it right
& yes, it would hurt
but it would all be worth it
that's what she told herself
see, the weight was becoming unbearable
&, of course, it would only be this once
just this once
that's what she promised herself...

"she" is not a victim of bulimia nervosa
she's not a skinny white girl standing over a toilet trying to decide which finger to use

"she"...
is me
a girl who holds so much in
paper in one hand, pen in the other, she is buckling under the pressure of words unsaid
dragging daily under the weight of thoughts confined to her mind

she's been binging all this time but she can't hold it in any longer
she is full of stupid mistakes, heartbroken apologies & fearful confessions
once hidden in the unconscious recesses of her mind, they now force themselves into her chest
the acid burns her throat as potential words threaten to manifest themselves, dancing across her tongue...

but as much as she would love to confess, to apologize, to be free
she can't
she swallows hard, forcing the thoughts to return to the depths from which they came

maybe it's pride that won't allow her to express her emotions thus making her vulnerable, revealing her "true identity"
or maybe it's fear that her words will fall on deaf ears unwilling to hear her heart beyond her stammering syllables
or maybe she doesn't understand how ppl could respect her in her weakness...
support her in spite of her failures...
love her because of her flaws...

whatever the case
she continues to hold all these things inside
right next to the other things she'd rather not acknowldge:
regrets, fears, unrequited love
adjacent to things she holds for others:
secrets, burdens, promises

for these are the things she carries
the weight of which, she thinks, makes her strong

but unbeknownst to her, or rather, hidden under all these things
is the knowledge that one day
she will have no choice
but to purge her heart of the mistakes, the apologies, the confessions
the fears, the regrets, the unrequited loves
the secrets, the burdens, & promises

one day she wil have no choice but to put down the things she carries

*It's not the burdens of everyday that drive men mad. It is the regret of yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves that rob us of today.

#OldStuff :: Contradictory Expectations

dear great expectations,
dear maker of boxes,
dear you who are irrelevant,
I am not the person you think I am…
But then again, I never claimed to be…
I never claimed to be perfect or well rounded or all put together
I never claimed that I had it all figured out
I never claimed to know wth I’m doing
No, these were all assumptions assigned to me by you
You who are irrelevant, you who smile in my face but behind my back it’s a different story, you who assume self perfection while expecting failure from all the rest
You.
This is the box you put me in; you expect so much &, simultaneously, so little
You.
Your life is life’s greatest contradiction
You put me on this pedestal only big enough for one foot to stand on & watch me struggle to stay within these four walls
These four shrinking walls attempt to contain my greatness, to limit my happiness, to abort my dreams before my heart has a chance to birth them
These four transparent walls attempt to make me inhuman, immortal, unforgivable, indefatigable…
but that’s cool…
prepare to be disappointed.
because truth is I’m tired, I’m dying, & I’m far from immaculate
These are all assumptions
Assumptions that my smile means that I am “happy”
Assumptions that a dry eye means a healthy heart
Assumptions that the S on my chest means that I am super woman…
Truth:
I don’t fit in
I don’t belong
This S on my chest is for Survivor
See even when im compressed & upset & distressed
I still strap up that vest before each & every test
Oh yes… I’m a survivor
I am the one thing that is not like the others…
& that’s totally okay with me.
So you who are irrelevant, “perfect”, hypocritical, “chosen”, you who are contradictory to life itself,
...I imagine that it takes more effort to be someone you are not?
Just remember that the box you’re so comfortable in was only made for one.
So if you find yourself getting angry or upset or disappointed with the things that I do or the life that I live, remember…
That I never claimed to be any of those things you assigned to me anyway
So, in conclusion:
I think that if I am doomed to be miserable either way, I’d rather be miserable just being me.

#OldStuff :: Window Seat

http://loveisntenough.com/2010/04/05/a-five-year-old-reviews-erykah-badus-window-seat-video/

she was shot "because she was
naked
& cool
& free…"

she was
assassinated...
"because she was
naked
& cool
& free..."

one day i hope to be as transparent as she
as in what you get is exactly what you see
as in i ain't worried about yall cuz i'm busy bein me
but
for now
take me as i am is my only plea

for now i move slowly through this purgatory
halfway between that which is opaque & that which is translucent
see unfortunately i'm still slightly bound by these
these layers
this costume
this mask,
it not only covers my face
but also my mind's eye:
you don't know me & i don't know the she that me is either
and so i'm slowly starting to pull off these layers of hypocrisy
this costume of impurity
this mask that resembles everyone else but me
as i move towards my transparency
locate my identity
cease committing this perjury
i long to be naked
&
cool
&
free...
but see...
i know no sooner than i remove this costume
life as i know it will end
& i just don't think i'm ready to die
i just really can't afford to be different
to stand out
i mean a square peg can't fit through a round hole & i need to fit in with the rest of y'all
because i know all deviants lose their lives...
so i guess it's either die to myself
or die as myself...
accept conformity
or accept my exile...
sacrifice all...
or be a sacrifice...
decisions decisions...
so i guess until i make my decision
i'll just stay in line
stay in uniform
straighten my mask
turn myself
off...
because
i need you to want me
i need your direction
i need your attention...
so tell me what you want from me
because being
naked
& cool
& free
is overrated anyways

#OldStuff :: Untitled [[5.7.10]]

I remember when I loved you
I remember when the sun refused to rise until the sound of your good morning woke the light behind my eyes
& it was easy…
easy like that song that says that Sunday mornings are easy
easy like these metaphors & similes make understanding easy
easy like… like rocket science easy
it was easy…
as easy as trying to pass a three cord rope through the eye of a needle easy
see
you were the moon before 1969 & no matter how carefully I aimed to please you, I always landed among the peasant stars or in the never ending black hole of your unwarranted anger
… & that shuttle never missed its destination
& so many times I was stuck in this here space station trying to decipher the longitudes & latitudes of where exactly I went wrong because according to your navigations, the logistical errors made were never your own.
I was both the navigator AND the driver, knees on the wheel, map fully unfolded spread across the dash thinking that love was our destination when it was merely the journey in between our together departure and our separate arrival.
… I guess not everyone is privy to the knowledge of things to come
… they say in a relationship: he who cares the least has the most control and so, here I was thinking that I was in command when all along you were in the captain’s chair withholding from me the coordinates of our final destination
you
domestic terrorist
you
homicide bomber
you said that it was killing you too but why I am I looking at one lone corpse when I swear there was supposed to be two?!?
… I mean really…
what kind of girl do you take me for?
You hole your heart up in this emergency capsule ever ready to eject itself from the situation should it appear too good to be true but for me baby you were my truth
& maybe just thinking you know the truth will set you free because I could have sworn you loved me & at one point that assumption was all I needed to remain on cloud nine
but I guess… ignorance is bliss
because real truth hits heavy handed like a brass knuckled bloodied up fist
& I’d say I’m pretty light skinned cause I can’t handle too much more truth before others start to see that I am becoming
a bag lady
knapsacks and backpacks and bookbags full of your heavy handed brass knuckled bloodied up
truth
& I am tired of bearing the weight
of a useless
irrelevant
unrequited love
so I sit
easing slowly into this empty bus seat
& I reminisce of better days
when love was new
& I remember when I loved you
when the sun refused to rise until the sound of your good morning woke the light behind my eyes
… & it was easy

#OldStuff :: Letters From A Prodigal People

Dear God,
What do I give my son when I have no water to quench his thirst…
How do I respond to his cries when not even my own tears can quell the heat of the Haitian sun nestled in his throat…
How will I explain to him why he feels so out of my place at his new school or
That we can never go home, that we must make this here & now our own
And how will I explain to him the absence of his father…
How will I teach him to be a man when all the men are gone…
How will I tell him the truth...
How will I answer his questions…
When I can’t even answer my own…

Dear God,
Why have you forsaken us?
It seems you have turned away from us
Pushed us just outside of a fingertip’s reach knowing just one touch could change it all
How will we keep warm when we’ve come face to face with the coldest shoulder ever thrown?
& what have we done to warrant the forsaking of our entire country
& God, how will we start anew
Forcing us to rebuild again is like asking us to draw honey out of a rock
This accursed ground can no longer support life
See how it broke & shattered & ruptured under the weight of love, of time, of existence
This fallow ground was never meant to support the spirit of such a heavy people

Dear God,
We sit & wait.
Almost as helpless as bloated bodies floated when levees could not pacify a woman's scorn five years ago
Oh God, will we ever learn?
God when will we realize that this earth, she is not a savage beast
She is just a heartbroken mother awaiting the return of her wayward children
We have squandered the wealth of our father, pilfered the womb of our mother
Prodigal sons & daughters filled with premature inheritances, blind ambitions & not enough sense to know the difference
We have forsaken the wisdom of our father, forgotten the virtues of our mother
In search of empty promises wrapped in smiling white faces and shallow open arms
We run away, seeking refuge, burrowing our black faces in skin that does not mirror our own

Dear Mother Earth,
You’ve brought your children to their knees
To a place of brokenness, a place of despondency, a place of searching
And so we cry out for a savior;
They hear our words but do not listen to the lamentation of our tears
Forsaken by all else, we know exactly who to turn to
And even though it took a mother’s harsh hand to bring us back to our senses
You are at the gate waiting, arms of longing, eyes of knowing
Ready to dress us with robes of royalty, to kill the fatted calf, to place rings of gold onto frail fingers
And even from afar off, I see a mother’s lips mouthing “welcome home”

*i feel like it's still a little rough around the edges... but OH WELL lol*

July First [however, i know today is NOT July 1st]

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul." ~Soren Kierkegaard

poems lodged like clotted veins & clogged arteries & i just want to bleed today...

words fill lungs like dirty lake water, i am drowning & i just want to breathe today...

phonemes & utterances bounce like echoes through the hallow halls of my bones filling them with burning kinetic energy when all i want...

is to be still...

God... I didn't ask for this...

didn't ask to be used

didn't ask to be chosen

didn't ask to be a vessel

but here i am broken and leaking for all to see...

i don't understand why you use my pain for their deliverance...

why won't you just let me be who they think i am?

who could ever love something so imperfect...

all i have endured flows ever so elegantly through these cracks & crevices, these punctured holes & flesh wounds, how transparent you have made me...

it's almost beautiful...

but mostly it's not, see i wear these frowns & scowls for a reason

no one needs to know why i lie awake at night

why i regret things that never were

why i wish things that can never be

no one needs to know that i'm only human

a mere mortal, always afraid to die because i have not yet come to terms with the way i live

always behaving myself when they come to see this glass house because i'm afraid that they'll throw stones & demolish this facade i've taken so long to fabricate...

what's the point of all this flesh if they can still see my heart beating frantically in my chest?

they've seen too much...

but in this transparency, there is perfection...

a perfect exchange of vulnerability for healing

insecurity for strength

conviction for confession

confession for redemption

redemption for salvation

and all in the name of atonement

i inflict these wounds upon myself

this supposed gift is my scarlet letter

but as much as it hurts me to do so, i wear this sin with pride

because without these moments of clarity, perfection is assumed

& i cannot live that lie.

a random amalgamation of thoughts

So I have this idea... and in no way is it original in any way shape or form but... idk, I think it'll help me... prioritize my life, if you will. I think I'm going to start a never ending bucket list-- but not really a list a things I wanna DO but more like ways I want to FEEL. like I don't want to be kissed in the rain but I do want the feeling of having someone love me and only me when all the world is crashing down around us. I don't want to go bungee jumping or skydiving but I do want someone in my life that makes my stomach jump up into my chest and bully my vocal chords into shuttin the hell up because He makes words superfluous. Hmm...

We all think there are certain things we just HAVE to do in this world before we die but to me it's just a feeling I'm trying to obtain. Or even regain... #pause...

Hmm... regaining... I've loved someone before. Not been "in love" like people like to say but I've genuinely loved a man before, like.... like I heard Drake on the radio a couple wks ago & they asked him about whatever little shabang he & Rihanna had going on & he was like basically she gave 'em a feelin he never felt before and that he was grateful more than anything for allowing him to experience that & be a part of each other's lives however long it was. No remorse, no grudge, no bitterness. And that's the place I'm finally at, over a year later; in hindsight I regret nothing but I miss that feeling. I could say I miss him or that I would love to be back with him but in all actuality, I just want that feeling again. So I guess he's just symbolic of that feeling. And I almost slipped up & bashed another ex by comparing the two but I promised myself I would try to stop that ish. hmm... regret vs. lessons learned. I'm trying to get better at putting more things in that latter category, trying not to regret things that once made me genuinely happy just because they didn't turn out like I wanted them to. But it was one of those "wth was i thinking?!" type relationships lol and we'll just leave it at that. But I digress. That was just a little transparency for y'all instigated by the word #regain.

Hmm. #relive #re- anything. We humans like to live in memory I see. Instead of creating new things we like to bring old things back to create that sense of familiarity... comfort. #Weak! Lol that has to stop. Cuz I mean yeah I want that old love back but the thing is, the shiii didn't LAST, so why would I want that back? I guess I just want that feeling but very much amended ya know? So maybe I don't wanna regain... yeah I definitely don't wanna regain or relive or re-anything. I'm on that new shiii, I'm chunkin the deuces up-- no more hanging on to old things, old scents, old memories, old feelings. On to making new ones. So I don't want old ish. It has been confirmed; I don't want him... I want someone that will be an amended version of what he represents. And this goes with everything else in life! So #OnToTheNext :)

God is Love, Rev Run :)

the evolution of MY poetry

so in the last... month or so maybe, i've been shifting the... purpose of my poetry. i've been sort of coming into my own and realizing that this is indeed a gift no matter how much i try to downplay it or make less of it. i realized that God must be appalled that i would lessen this beautiful life changing talent He gave me. & i think i do that because i fail to recognize that the things i write are not from me personally, but that the words that come from my hand are His penmanship. with all that said the big huge super realization i came to was that because this poetry is a manifestation of God through me, i am compelled to use it both purposefully and intentionally. life and death are in the power of the tongue. in words there are both blessings and curses. but i digress. what i'm struggling to say is, lately i've been watching my work transform from an almost selfish, lovey dovey heartbroken, teenage angst brand of poetry to a... a brand where change is instigated. i'm learning and studying and crafting my writing into work that condemns, work that compels, work that questions. i need my work to make people uncomfortable with the way things are currently. i need my work to make people move and fidget in their chairs. i need my work to break hearts and bring justice. it's time out for all the BS. i was given this gift for a reason. and it would be a slap in God's face for me to do anything but glorify his name and uplift his people with it. i'm not writing so others can "relate" and say oh yeah me too. no. i'm writing to free myself and others, to confess, to shed a blinding light on the things that bring tears to God's eyes.

but yeah... that's just kinda been on me heavy lately...

idk how to end blogs properly... is there like a how to for blogging dummies like me???

well anyways... i read a quote one day that said a poem is never really finished, just abandoned... so i think blogs might be the same way... cuz i mean you, as in me, i, could ramble FOREVER... so yeah... ok but really tho, i'm just gonna leave.

dear little sister

so a friend of mine asked a few of us in diverse verses [baylor's brand spankin new poetry/ spoken word group #shamelessplug] to write something to encourage these high school girls she works with. they need to be reminded who they are. they need to know that they are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God. that they are of a royal bloodline. & here was my attempt.

Dear little sister/ I remember when God created you/ I remember peering over his shoulder as he molded this beautiful mahogany earth like clay around Adam’s rib/ his thumbs formed the dip in your back/ his nails etched the pout of your lips/ you were the phenomenal woman before man ever thought to create this meaningless speech that endeavors to describe you and all of your glory/ your beauty can neither be successfully translated into mere phonemes or symbols or grammatically correct utterances/ nor incarcerated by colored ink on processed wood in picture frames/ the strokes of an artist’s wrist can only seek in vain to duplicate God’s immaculate penmanship/ and even the most technologically advanced cinematography is like a simple pat on the back answering when spirit slain intercession is called for/ innovation can’t hold a 400 watt bulb to the natural light that emanates from behind your eyes/ baby girl you hold the world in your hands/ don’t you know that life stops at your will?/ the world does not turn without a quick swipe from your manicured hand/ the renaissance of Harlem was berthed from your mind/ men marvel at the smack of your teeth & in the semi-circular rotation of your eyes, yes they love all that jazz/ the sultry tones of your voice, pure poetry over the backbeat of life, tickles the g-spot of their inner ears/you are the Harlem Renaissance/ you transcend all length of distance & measure/ you are a time travelling globetrotter/ watch, the earth spins on your middle finger as a metaphor for your God-given attitude/ but in these same manicured hands lies the history of a hushed people/ mules of this earth reduced to being seen and not heard/ trailblazers dumbed down to conformity/ lovers reduced to being fighters only… fighting for approval they never needed… fighting for a chance to be loved not knowing that when God commanded love, He already had you in mind/ don’t you know the very heart of God beats through your chest/ the blood of His only son flows warm through your veins/ don’t you know that any man privileged enough to cross over into your threshold will be in Holy Communion with God/ don’t you ever offer your body to any man that isn’t ready to meet your heavenly Father face to face/ baby girl tell him he better come correct/ baptized in holy water because your very womb is the holy of holies/ you are royalty by birth and are thus entitled to behave royally/ baby girl they have desecrated your temple/ sprayed graffiti paint on your endometrial walls/scribbled your number in public bathroom stalls/ whispered your name in the dark corners of forgotten high school halls/ dear little sister/ you are royalty by birth and are thus entitled to behave as such/ so please/ exchange that stripper’s pole for this golden scepter and claim your throne.

to my loves @ #rambunctiousdonkeyproductions

people are fake. this we all know by now. ESPECIALLY as college students. & ESPECIALLY here at baylor. today i came across a quote that caused a revelation within me & it said something to the effect of "do not ask of those that ask alot of you, there is a reason they are asking"... which, to me, translates to "don't expect much from ppl who only come at you asking... they have nothing for you"... wow... look out for a poem soon *insert use me by bill withers...

anywho, a lot of people claim to be my "friends". but people lie. daily. like look you in the eye & smile. & lie. i'm the type of person that loves hard. unconsciously. like i can't help it. if i see you need something & i have it, it's yours. but there's just something about people that only take from you... sometimes it's hard to detect unless you've been in a situation like that before. & we won't even get into that... today. but i recently came across some heifers in this last semester of my sophomore year that changed the game for me. in my life, i've noticed that when God wants to lead me to something better, he shows me two contrasting ideas or parties or types of people. like he literally took me THROUGH a ratchet friendship that absolutely was NOT what i thought it was to get me TO these people that changed the game for me. He allowed me to observe these two groups of people, compare & contrast on my own, & then make my decision. because after awhile all super heroes must retire; you can't play capt. save a hoe/ be everything to everybody/ give everybody the benefit of the doubt for long before it eats away at you & changes you personally. & this amuses me now, but my loves at #rambunctiousdonkeyproductions literally snatched me from the brink of ratchetness & saved my effing life lol is it an oxymoron that the realest people i've ever met aren't even from this planet???

i've moved around a little bit in life. i come from a military family so i've had my share of who's the new kid moments & things like that. & in those moments you don't really think about it when someone asks you to play with them or sit with them at a lunch or whatever we do these days to get friends. revelation: you can be alone without being lonely. be selective about who you choose to surround yourself with. especially in new places. because people who don't know you personally will mesh you right along with whoever you latch onto. & maybe it's just me, but i think it's the people that i don't really remember meeting, the ones that i just kinda looked up & realized what a good friend they were, those people have proven to be the ones i really call "friends", of course with a few exceptions. those people who didn't swoop down like vultures immediately trying to capture me, those people...

i don't really recall when i became "friends" with amanda or sam or princess or keyah... i just remember looking up & i was kickin it at a bbq with sam & her bro or trying to figure out how she got in my house :) i remember looking up & keyah was curled up next to me on a couch sleeping or jiggin next to me at one of rob's shindigs :) i remember looking up & seeing princess half sleep at the sonic or pulling allnighters searching for cheap hotels :) i remember looking up & i was buyin up all the snacks at wal mart with amanda or yelling BALLOONS as randomly as gucci yells BURRR :)

i just remember these random realizations that i had real "friends" in these people. with seemingly no effort at all. i don't know where they came from. like literally. princess watches korean dramas... ??? sam's in love with voguing... ??? amanda lives daily off of pure cane sugar... ??? keyah eats like me & stays weighin a buck oh five... ??? who are these people??? lol clearly i'm the most normal one here.

so in closing this amalgamation of ramblings:

amanda :: keep being the sweetest thing i've ever known. you're loyal to a fault. until someone does you wrong, then you cut like a beautiful knife. stay that way. people will keep tryna eff with you because they take your kindness for weakness but do not warn them. they'll find out that that's just not the case on their own :)

samskii :: thank you for showing me your own personal brand of crazy lol you're hardheaded kid; you hate depending on anyone outside of yourself because people have proved their jankiness to you. time & time again people have been like nails in your tires causing slow, audible leaks. people mistake your big beautiful eyes for naivety but you always manage to show them otherwise. keep doin you PLEASE. & know i would get grazed by a bullet any day for you bro :)

prince :: you drunk ainey you lol you're another brand of crazy yourself. you helped me realize that there is indeed life on other planets & you came all the way down here just to kick it with us. how privileged we are lol never bite your tongue lil mama. as a poet or as a "person". your words break hearts, literally & poetically; NEVER turn down a chance to share either of these words :)

& lastly lil mama keyah :: you don't eveeeen go heeere :( but in that short time you've become like a smaller sister type figure lol you've been through a lot bro... for absolutely no reason bro... but you never backed down & you stood strong. you never got down with the dogs. & for that i commend you. keep doing you. & never feel the need to explain yourself: haters won't believe you & those that love you already understand. you & amanda, remember that y'all always have a place at #rambunctiousdonkeyproductions wherever in the world yall may be, ol janky houston or otherwise :)

anywho! yeeeah lol i think that was a pretty good official second blog post. it looks kinda long tho... but it's all from the heart! which yall know, doesn't come out too often. but real recognize real, & that's what yall are to me. & after dealing so much with all the fakeness & lies & facades, i feel like the real ones needed to be recognized. for yalls exemplary realness in spite of pressure to succumb to the world's system of effortless fakeness. i, khristina ruff [yeah i said it!], hereby recognize yall as real "friends", on this day thursday the 10th of june in the year of our Lord 2010. #superofficial! #giggetygiggetygiggety!

but on some real verbiage lol yall know i love you Krazy Kidds & i would gladly take a bullet grazing for any one of yall! but just once! yall know im light skinned...

it may seem like idk what i'm doing...

& in all actuality, i don't :( i think my initial thought was to keep this like a diary or a journal or whatever... then people started actin like they would actually read what i had to say... i mean i could have kicked it old school & done a regular pen & paper type journal except for the fact that this summer is proving to be quite nomadic for me; i never know where anything is & i'm constantly living in a state of permanent confusion. but i like it. that's just who i be. i'm too laid back to care about all of wth is going on.

but anywho... about this here bloggy blog... i don't really know what i'm supposed to do lol so like... just write whatever i feel like whenever i feel like??? hmm. yeah ok.

anyways! about the name of this joint! "guerrilla warfare in a concrete jungle"... & i'm developing this as i type but to me it means... everyday life is war. within yourself, amongst other people, spiritual warfare. everyday there's some force or power or whatever you choose to believe in trying to stop you from doing what God, or whoever you choose to believe in, has for you in your life. guerrilla warfare. according to wikipedia [yes, they know EVERYTHING like fa real] the term literally means "little war". everyday is a little war. over little things: making the light before it turns red, staying focused long enough to get work done, not letting other people's slick remarks send you to jail... etc. etc. so you don't have to be in iraq or somalia or deep in the literal jungles planning ambushes & taking over villages or whatever. surviving this life day to day, waking up, getting dressed, pounding the pavement, getting that paper/ that education/ or whatever have you... small victories mean everything. when you realize who you are/ who you can be, all things negative run in fear every time you hop out the bed in the morning first day of school fresh. & that right there is warfare enough.