A Love Tantrum In The Grocery Store Of Her

I stomp my feet, like a child mad he can't have candy because She still doesn't understand me. A book once told Her that I was from Mars, but I disagree because only my thoughts of Her are out of this world. And I don't speak alien, I speak manly. It's a soft and strong dialect with an emotional undertone. A language She still can't comprehend because She's only used to hearing all the BS and True Lies. I want more than behind, I want a mind with behind. I want weekends of sprung spoiling; filled with fruit feeding, face foundling with gentle fingers and sultry slow dancing to Love songs made in the early...late 90's. I'm an only child, not spoiled, but I do want what I want when I want it, but willing to earn it which defeats the stereotype. Is this too much to ask? Too much to ask would be me asking Her to Love me more than She Loves Herself, and I could never suggest that because then that would mean She'd suck at Loving me because She doesn't Love Herself enough. So can I get my treat now? Or what more must I do before I can enjoy that chewy feeling? That sugary rush that keeps my wheels turning with no plans on hitting breaks? I want Her, I want Her, I want Her.

Who's Really Wearing The Pants?

Does a man who pays all the bills around his house really sleep on the couch when his wife or girlfriend tells him to?

United States of Ho-Wood...The real True BullShit

Man of the hour with a pocket full of power, but the hero is weak and usually subject to defeat when trying to fight the world without a Super Woman, so he shakes the city down, like a bank heist. Record release and fashion week mixing is the party. Allergic to ropes and being told no, the only man whose palms he'll ever grease is the man whose shoes in which he stands. V.V.I.P is where the seat be. Crushed grapes coat the throat, like Cold-EEZE. Surrounded by shallow fame and dames who Google names on bedazzled blackberry's; texting and AIMing, making the room look like a sea of lighters at a MJ concert with all the bright back lights. Chixs thirsty for alcohol smack their gums, signaling that they want drinks, like hungry babies, whenever thirsty tricks walk by waving dollars, like bait.


Playing the game is just that, "Playing the Game." Now you can play the game and still not like how it's played which is why the chatter of hypocrite complaining bangs around like an 8 0 8. But either way, you play it hard or sit on that bench alone, like a kicker who misses a 5yard field goal. Drunk off depression, ain't no solution to drowning yourself in sorrow, so you gotta drag ego and pride off that sorry ass ground, into the shower of self purify and sober your soul up. Counselors can counsel, but it's your job to clean yourself up. You have the keys, so it's always your choice who gets to drive.

"Oh Jesus!!...Oops I Mean Weezy!!"

I remember reading an article once where Lauren London said she keeps her Bible on her at all times and takes it everywhere she goes. I wonder, did she have it with her when she slept with Lil Wayne? Or did she take a break away from Jesus to get freaky with Weezy? Or did she just say "Fuck it" literally, like Black porn stars who take off all their clothes, but leave on their blinged out cross,(shout out to Weezy for coining the phrase "Bling Bling", I mean you gotta give credit when credit is due) or the white gold Jesus piece that painfully hangs around their neck...oh and those infamous socks? Anyway I wonder, did she?

A.D.I.D.A.S "All Day I Dream About She"

Hand asleep, resting on the back of my head, I am chilling, like a Rasta in a hammock, on some Caribbean beach drinking ice cold ginger beer. My left leg stretched, hanging off the end of the mattress, I'm only 5'7, but I'm in a kiddy bed. Right foot is white girl butt...."Flat,"on the sheet with my knee pointing high, like a snitch on weed...I am thinking of Her. My eyes are the color of Cardinals, shaped like Valentine candy; Love is what I see. Wrapped around Her life, like ring candy is where I'd like to be, but is She sweet? Will She have me hyper, like children wired off Jelly Beans? Or will She leave me numb and real veggie, like children drugged off Ritalin? They say "Only time can tell," but I speak now because I don't always understand time. So am I dumb and the opposite of right for being stubborn and set on what I like? Is the flush flirting too forward and only just fooling feelings round? Is She a talker now, but a mute when things get a little too serious? They say that if you have to ask yourself these many questions then it isn't meant to be, but who are they? What do they know about what's meant to be if they've never created no world in seven days or parted any sea's? Together we are Gods because heaven is what we create and not what "They Say!!".
Photo Model: Nnenna Agba

"Cruising"

Squeeze five prayers in the air with hopes that my aim for God's Heart is a bulls eye, and if I miss I'll cross my fingers and toes and wish that the strays find away to hit Allah and every other deity in their extremities multiple times. Baptised Christian, but I don't remember, so my faith still believes that Heaven is up and that Hell is down just because this belief has been taught to me to believe, since being a crawler, low to the ground.

Grammies favourite Grand B, but I neglect the old Lady, like home nursing. I'll miss Her when She's gone, maybe that's why I've disconnected myself so early, so that when She is gone I'll already be used to missing Her.

Coast Cruising on a Cool Cali night, mixed with a head full of heavy thinking makes me dream magical, like Walt Disney, but ain't no fairy in me so I'm always ready to knuckle up with life when trying to paint me timidly. Graduated high school, but that's where the schooling stopped and the real schooling started. Between the sky and the cement on the campus of Crabs in a Barrel Uni V, I was taught survival by Professor Hustle. A Graduate at the top of my class, I payback my life's loan by investing in the "each one teach one" plan, so I mentor the weak in hopes that they'll catch the same itch for success that I caught without fucking their lives away.

Storied stories read between the pages of me, like well written screenplays. Steady trying to understand me, so I'm always reading me, over and over and over again until I have all the pages loaded in, like a Sony reader. Mistakes are four play for Miss wisdom so I'm usually pretty promiscuous with the Lady. I view failure with tunnel vision because I'm not trying to see it around me. I'm the product and the prophet so no one can ever sell me short but me and I'm not into doing bad business with myself, like Black People so I'll always spread the wealth amongst myself, like Jewish People. No road will ever end because I'll hit reverse, turn around and do it all over again.

"Where You'll Be..."

There is no crystal ball to look in and see where you'll one day be. You can have all the plans and ideas you like, but life is about moments and how you live in the moment when the moment is placed upon you. How stable you are will determine how stable you'll be.

"A Day With Dad"

I just spent the day with my dad and it was very weird to see what I would look like at the age 54. Now minus the missing front teeth, blind right eye, excuses for why he never made it, the drinking and the smoking the future wasn't to bad to see because I plan to have his few little bumps all cleared up. No matter his own mishaps or lack of being a Dad to me I enjoyed every minute of our visit and I look forward to my very first sleep over, just him and me.

A.D.I.D.A.S "All Day I Dream About She"

On a stage only big enough for two, I watch the drama of your feelings and emotions being played out. Not entertained by the other characters too lucky to even have roles in your life. I criticize in the weekly column of my mind, praying for the shows end, so that mine can one day Lovingly begin. Hungry to illuminate my Heart's shine, I court you with persistent passion; penned on your Heart's notepad is where it's meant to stain well.

Backstage I watch for mistakes with success in my eyes, waiting for a chance to steal the scene from he who plays your leading man but lacks the talent to play the part with real Heart. You mentioned having patience which is something I've come to know all too well, as I stand outside your life's window throwing stones of affection only to have them tossed in another direction. I fear for your Heart's depression, if you continue to invest all you've got into worthless junk-bonds, but if ever you're alone and need a loan of rich admiration and jokes to make you laugh until you're aching I will always be your bail out.
The world may not revolve around you but it definitely wouldn't spin without you. To Me, you mean.
Photo Model: Satya Persaud

"Lost and Found"

She can't seem to find Her mojo. She said She last saw it on the day She woke up happy to be Her. She said She's checked everywhere; Her Heart's safe, underneath the cushion of Her soul and in the pockets of Her confidence. Maybe She lost it when She got news that She didn't want to get or when She gave it to him believing that the promise he made to give it back would be made. So now I'm here, out with my light, in the middle of the night whistling around her life trying to help Her find it and honestly.....I don't mind it.

"Two Drops"

If two drops of blood is all it takes to get test results then how much of my Love does it take to get results from Her?

"She....Or not?"

She trust me, She trust me not? She respects me, She respects me not? She's loyal, She's loyal not? She'll fight for us, She'll fight for us not? She likes the man that I am, She likes the man that I am not? She supports dream, She supports dream not? She sees the future, She sees the future not? She has patience for growth, She has patience for growth not? She will Love to Love, She will Love to Love...not?

Bridging The Gap

The bridge between your world and Her world must be made of steel and not that shaky shit, if you plan on being sturdy. The miserable will always cross you and ride you tough, but how strong your foundation is will determine if you'll fall or not. Together you'll always be able to hold the weight of the world and you'll both be the passage for one another, over all obstacles if you have good structure. Others will point, whisper and marvel at your unique design, wishing that they had the tools to build and construct such a polished beauty.

Most of us spend a lifetime traveling, lonely and Loveless, with no real direction on how to navigate our emotions without getting lost. So when you find the right compass don't be afraid to let it map out your Heart and guide you safely along that Romantic journey of united unity. The stars may light you and the the wind may lift you, but it's up to you to plant the seed that will help you and Her, Her and you....to grow.

"IF....."

If the ocean's tide can massage it's wave across the beach's sand without hands and the solid soil can hug the old-oak's roots tight, like college good byes; If the mountain tops can kiss the sky's forehead every morning without ever forgetting; if the sun can show up for it's date with life, never late and always on time and if the wind chimes can whistle moans of ecstasy every time the breeze makes Love. Then tell me, what's our excuse?

"IT"

You've said it, meant it and they still don't get it. You've pictured it, painted it and they still don't see it. You've yelled it, sang it and they still can't hear it. You've signed it, mimed it and they still don't understand it. But if you feel it and can't live without it, then keep on giving it, with the faith that one day they will appreciate it and if not, then they'll miss it when you're no longer considering it.

"To Give Or Not To Give?"

She hates giving, which is selfish living, which equals a lonely life and that ain't living...So try a little giving and watch, he'll start to give in because without you, he knows, there would be no living.....

"For Little Miss Ware....Get Well Soon"

I just asked God to watch over you and all who are a part of you. Your child is God's child so I have no doubt that she will be clothed in the fabric of priceless blessings. I'm no deity, but as you sleep my soul will watch over yours making sure the devil doesn't hold your nose, killing your faith in knowing that tomorrow only gets better. So sleep easy, pray frequently and count your blessings instead sheep.......Get well soon Little Miss Ware

"Chocolate City"

In the City of Chocolate where my President is Black and my cab driver too!! The sounds of BackYard dance in my ears, like a Soca line. Bloated from the late night JUMBO SLICES, "Lactaid Please Take Me Away". Tonight it's chicken with mumbo sauce and Screen on the Green, "Rebel with a Cause", which has been the theme of my life. How perfect could the timing be?

"The Real Show Is In The Show"

The best thing about the Tiny and Toya show is the Love that Tiny's mom still has for her dad even while he's quickly losing his mind to Alzheimer's. Now that's the show I want to see Tiny's Mom and Dad in a show called "No mind, but you're still mine" (and I even did the honor of nameing the show) because I could never get enough lessons on how two people stick together for better or for worse.

"Speed At Her Limit"

Just because you drive a fast car doesn't mean you always have to give Her gas. Slow down and learn to handle Her curves, like a Indy pro. And while others blow you fake air, roll down the window on Her life, stick your hand in Her hair and enjoy Her natural breeze. Take in Her scenic view with a focused eye so that she's always more than just a blur.

"Paradise"

It's true!! You can be in paradise without ever boarding a plane and flying to some exclusive beach with fresh coconuts, white sand, parakeets and palm trees.

You just have to promise to be exclusive with whom ever it is that gives you that Happy tan, the kind that when friends see you they say "Damn You're Glowing". Caught up in their wind, just let it take you and they will be all the fruit you'll ever need to feel sweet.

"How To Fly"

Trying to fly, but our wings and our feathers need to trust that they can work together. Not able to communicate only makes the eagle in us spiral down, where the vultures wait below, hungry to see us fall.

"I Can't Buy You A Cadillac, But I Can Say "THANK YOU"

The last three years of my life have been three of the most trying years that the good Lord above has ever placed upon my life to live. I mean, like many of us, my whole life has been trying, but for some reason the last three years have been just a bit more noticeable than the ones I've already lived and I'm sure for good reason. I quit a job after 10 years of service because I felt my service was unappreciated and getting me nowhere but angry. I lost a few friends, gained a few friends and a few existing friends have grown to be stronger friends, more than I could have ever imagined. Too busy complaining about the things that pain us, we often never take the time to praise the things that pleasure us. We never appreciate and see the meaning and purpose until the spots of trials and tribulations have all been cleaned away and we shine, like clear glass, but we really should practice on getting better at seeing through the fog.

Yesterday was my birthday, and all the well wishes were truly LOVED by me, which is why I'm writing this "THANK YOU" to express my appreciation to those who help to make me smile when it's often too hard to pull all the muscles together and crack one. I can't buy you a Cadillac, but I can salute you with honest words (and in no special order so don't complain....LOL) for honoring me on my special day......








THANK YOU: Kimberly Logan, Aunt Kyle Edwards, Aunt Shasta "Na Na" Edwards, Uncle Keith Rodgers, Cousin Vontez Morrow, Cousin Candice Long, Cousin Joi Haire, Uncle Jessie Haire, Aunt Donna Haire, Cousin Michi Haire, Cousin Raun Ruffin, Arlette Daluz, Kimberly Torres, Physent Walker, Aric Trimble, Mariah Hatcher, Loren Carino, Charmaine Turner, Kafi Guster, Tammy Linnear, Jyothi Raju, Candice Wilson, Kionna Hawkins, Megha Vora, Yesenia Paredes, Banafsheh Salmani, Shihevia Shugar Connor, Katie Vansant, Donnell Barrett, Harp K, Se' La Vi Sweets, Ian Beckford, Tatanisha Taylor-Hunter, Melanie Mack, Ahyoung Kim, Jacinda Green, Sherryma SmithChow Wong, Diane Sims, Dawn A Miller-Jackson, Tera Ellison, Raman Dherari, Treana Allen, Cherish Persaud, Levetta Futrell, Kimberly Monday, Arti Kapoor, Jermaine Carter, Qiana Hawkins, Michelle Corrales, Neesha Dennis, Stephanie Hill, Roxanne Estrada, Alfred Wynn, Michael Anthony Snowden, Danielle Brewer, Dolly Pop, Tanisha Ross, Quiana Grant, Bobby Brimmer, Joel Tramble, Angel Daniels, Dalana Thomas, Bridgette Williams-Ellison, Christie Ann MillsBrown, Bettina Hubbard-Lewis, Tiffany Hunter-Davis, Shana Travon-Tilan, Mitchell Marchand, Tiffaney Bell, Faith Conrad Sings, Jenny Jen, Karla Andrade, Mahal Jewelz, Tianna Brown, Sean Christopher, Sally Kashani, Vannika Bell, Miranda Bowden, Swathi Nakkana, Judy Dent, Aeysha Carr, Bianca Andrea Guzman, Jamayka Hamilton, Mya Leah, Beth Payne, Herbert Bohanon, Tera Williams, Mariama Afi Wrighster, Kianna James, Ashbinah Coney, Julia Guerrier, Stepanie Jinks, Faith Hardridge Betts, Courtney NeNe Favors, Seema Rana, Balyndah Bumpus, Deena Ware, Twyla Perry, Tiffany Thompson, Stephanie Lee, Kia Lyn Andrews, Fallon Dominique Harris, Q Quu Quu, Daphne Valerius, Celina Haenni, William T. Vandegrift, Inga Newson, Jamilah Linton, Josephine Leily...........

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME"

"This is My Day": It is the one day we're allowed to be as vain as we want, as spoiled as can be and as close to the center of attention as we can get to centering ourselves; Demanding all the demands we can demand without a single no and the threat of being called "Selfish". It is the one day that Mom would allow school to be skipped and dinner to be eaten after cake. It's a self celebration reminding us to give living for others a break and try living a little for "OURSELVES"..........."HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME"

"It's Love In A Dressing Room"

She sent a text telling me to meet Her inside of the dressing room at American Apparel, the Time Square Branch. "It's the door marked with a Heart drawn on with bright red Mac lipstick," at the far end, on the right. She then sent a second text telling me to knock on the door four times twice, "I LOVE YOU", once outside. She opened the door with Her back to me. She was wearing high heels with the red bottoms, a thigh high skirt with red Frederick's of Hollywood panties, the sexy kind with the crotch cut out, and a tank tee from the store whose fitting room we were commandeering. Her hair laid pretty over Her left shoulder, exposing a ripe neck ready for me to bite. At that moment I was Her Dracula, and She was my victim. Sucking with gentle pressure until Her neck was deep purple, my fangs were into Her with no plans of letting go, locked on Her throat, like a pit bull, I could feel Her Heart and it was beating strong for me.



With my left hand on Her chin, my index and middle finger massaging Her tongue, I stretched Her head back pointing Her eyes to the sky, and then I whispered instructions of how to play-public-passion with my tongue in Her ear interpreting, "Close your eyes tight. Pleasure is the flight. I am the pilot and co-pilot. So recline, relax and let me show you how to fly without ever lifting your feet. Not David Blane, but I was going to lift Her. Anxious to stroke my Darth Vader She reached back with Her hand, unzipped my pants and began. Now he has "ego," real big and cocky, needing a piece of Her pie to humble him properly. Neglecting Her nipples, I became a better daddy by tending to my responsibilities, squeezing them with my finger tips, like I was an infant feeding for milk. I then took Her right leg by the thigh and hiked it high upon the bench used for sitting while fitting, so that I could see Her butterfly from behind. I like how its wings spread when riding my wind. A City boy since seventy five, but I've always liked going down south because it's where the best eating is. My lips kissed Her bottom lips, and they kissed back with each grind and twist of Her hips, we were having great convo.

Lips to lips, I noticed between Her clitty, (or whatever She nicknames Her kitty) belly and corner pelvis area that there was a tattoo of a Black Heart. I took it as an omen, letting me know that more than just Her kitty needed stroking. Her faith and confidence in Love needed a touch up. Maybe the ink from my Heart is what She needed to brighten Her life up, so I grabbed Her hands and placed them on the side of my head to let Her know that She has me right in the palm of Her hands and that I wasn't going nowhere. With cotton finger tips, she played with my ears, working me like a joystick, I was Her Coleco and She was my Vision.

As an angry youth I hated school, but for the first time I had a teacher that I liked and wanted to learn from. I was being taught how to spoil Her sweet-sensitive spots. Enjoying the lesson, I was getting smarter by the lick. Just as I parked the limo in her garage, we were interrupted by a knock on the door, a female's voice followed, "Can I join in?" My eyes got big as a black face actor, but She quickly lowered the lids on my cooning when She turned Her head round, like an owl, and said, "You know I don't get down like that". I was disappointed that I even considered contradicting my own interest because I only like the one on one and not the one on two. I admired Her discipline for not being a statistic and proving that, "All girls don't carpet munch." Breaking character she was reminding me of why it is that I Love Her, which was making it hard to focus and be randomly raunchy. I pulled out and pulled out my phone and sent Her a text, "Babe you're fucking up the role playing...LOL...meet me at the car, we can finish this at home...I4U."

"Warning!!! Too Much Hate Can Cause Severe Balding"

Cow licks now rest where your hair used to be. You're balding and not due to heredity or old age, but because your thumb and middle finger stays glued to the corners of your scalp, too much thinking of ways to keep hating on what you envy. Relax!! And apply a little growth on your mind or weave a little self esteem in. Whatever you do, make sure its %100 genuine and not that synthetic BS, just be real human or shave it bald, like a skinhead and be proud of your hate.

A Recipe For Success

A Recipe For Success: 3 strong Women; Grandma, Mom and Auntie. A pinch of Pops never Loved Me. 1 strict uncle who made up for the Pops who never Loved Me. 1 world full of hate. 3 to 4 real friends who stick it out through thick and thin.

1 Loving spouse who also doubles as one of those real friends. A dash of failure because you're life has no taste without it. Blended with a whole lot God because without, what you bake would never rise.

"Sugar"

Grown men still suckers for what's sweet. It's something about that Sugar. Makes us fiend, like all the Ghetto Pookies. Protective Mamas teach us as boys that it's bad for the Heart, but we ignore them, like unhealthy Grandmas who ignore the Doc and keep cooking with that salt. Word is, what taste good is usually all bad for you, but what would life be without tastes?.....Bland and very Boring!!!

"Today"

I yawn and stretch my mind, so that it doesn't cramp up in the middle of a long day of thinking hard. The weather out is Loving, a forecast predicted by angels, perfect for opening all the windows wide, like a rose in full bloom. The chill of Holy flavored rain spritzed across an anointed face, God is preaching with a lisp today. Soft silk pillow cases marked by a Lover's scent makes me sniff until every inch of my soul gets a whiff. I am a hound, but a hound for her. Buttercups don't just come in those metal tins, they also come in a size ten, with a smile as bright as space lights and a laugh as Goofy as Goofy, but as cute as Minnie blushing over Mickey. In the streets her brain is as deep as Maya A.'s life, and in the sheets her brain is as deep as Karrine Super H is orally. My pet name for her ain't "Bitch", it's "Mrs You Complete Me". I kiss her forehead, like a good priest, pausing the head in bed to visit the head.

I lift the seat when I tinkle and lower it after I jingle my last jingle, so that she doesn't fall in when it's her turn to sprinkle. The mirror over the sink is calling me to take a look and see the man that I'm suppose to be. I place my palms together as one hand to begin my cleanse. I wash my face in confidence, brush my teeth with integrity and bathe my spirit in a warm bath of faith; with a sturdy foundation now laid and most of the screws in their proper place, I am a work in progress. Calling my name, I stand in the door way, silent, just staring and taking her all in. Beautiful, complex, fair and unfair. She's moody, fun and a flat out pain in the ass to be around when she's mad, but a blast when she's happy and can enjoy the laughs....She is my life, man.

"Am I Speaking Chinese?"

I stomp my feet, like a child mad he can't have candy because she still doesn't understand me. A book told Her that I was from mars, but I disagree because only my thoughts of Her are out of this world. And I don't speak alien, I speak manly. It's soft and strong with an emotional undertone. A language She still can't comprehend because she's only used to hearing BS. I want more than behind I want a mind with behind.

Just trying to do my part to help close the gap between us working out and us not working out. Women and Men are powerful as one, but only when we respect our strength......

"Dreaming in the Middle of NY"

Dressed in matching summer outfits, "Love Wear," designed by the one and only "Cupid," we were all alone on a private pasture, hidden in a field of flowers made of many colors, like a pack of skittles. A picnic meant only for two, a couple of winged guards above, kept an eagle eye making sure to keep all rats and critters aside. The sun played our favorite song on an antique violin once used by a street performer, who sold it to buy the ring that he would one day place upon the finger of his soul mate.

The wind sang background with perfect melody, like Christmas Carolers. Happy to see the heart's in our eyes and too emotional to hold it all in the clouds cried light tears of joy. I hand fed her fresh fruit from the region of Chile, purposely making a mess on her lips so that I could clean them with a kiss. I wet her tongue with mine quenching her thirst for romance. She laid in my arms and I rocked her with warm passion; she is my baby.

The sun packed it's bags and headed home, while the moon clocked in and prepared a sweet tune on a piano once played by soldier, who kept himself alive during man's war by writing his wife love letters promising to never die on her. The fire flies danced across the sky, like fireworks and the stars played catch in the galaxy, like kids at a local park. This moment is the parents of perfect, "Better Than," and can get no better unless God is into tracing. I glued my hands and placed my prayers in the prayer box of the almighty. Tossed my wishes into the air and it skipped them across the atmosphere, like rocks on the bellies of sleeping lakes, and poof!! like magic the future I always pictured appeared. Too real to be true, I pinched myself more than twice which now explains how I woke up in so much pain.
Photo Model: Raeven Western

"Just Call Him Friend"

If you want to know yourself as a man then get to know your father; whether he was there or never there. I'm doing it right now and it's amazing what you discover once you break the silence. Weaknesses and strengths that you've never been able to understand now have meaning and real place of origin. In order to know where you're going you must first know where you come from. You don't have to call him pops or dad just "Friend". Truth is, there are plenty of people in your personal and not so personal circle right now, that you call friend and can probably do without them. So why not give him a chance?

"Expiration....When??"

What's the expiration on having a crush? Is the shelf life indefinite, like Twinkies and Hormel SPAM? Does the freshness of it ever spoil after someone else has already opened them up, took whatever they wanted and wasted the rest? Can you pick them from the garbage of bad relationships and still recycle what's left? Or do you keep the A grade in the window of your life by moving on, keeping you healthy and making yesterday's meal yesterday's meal, leaving the doggy bags for those who like leftovers?

Well, answering my question which is probably a first, crushes never expire. They're our own little time capsules meant to always remind us of first Loves, honest feelings first felt and for some, pure emotions before all the bruises. I also think that when we forget how to Love or forget what it feels like to Love, cracking open that little precious capsule of memories can sometimes save us from living the rest of our lives numb to all things special.

A.D.I.D.A.S "All Day I Dream About She"

You and more of you stalk enamored day and night dreams, but there’s no masking in this Heart's robbery. A heavy pendulum of thoughts sway in a brisk wind of skittish sureness, questioning whether or not this time is the right time? A botanist with a thumb for picking Roses, Lilies and Irises; every garden requires special grooming. Like a Latino man armed with a leaf blower, I need you to weed out the pesky nuisances that block out the light and smoother deep rooted feelings in the rich soil of matrimony in order to plant your rare seed. Face of a darling with a Goldie Hawn smile in my arms you shall rest, real intimate like doing the tango. Together, we will wash our hands in the river of honesty and loyalty - cleansing our confidences of distrust and disgust. Disappointment will be a relic long forgotten, forever fossilized in the unimportant section of our minds.
Photo Model: Brandi ALexander

"Just A Slice Of Life And I'm Sharing"

On a journey for eight months to find the truce within myself. Shadowed by the spirit of Primo Levi to keep pushing fatigued legs whenever the function of doubt starts to cramp a divine faith, weaken a rich legacy and threaten to give way sanity to the ferocious frustrations of failure. A sentiment I share with every young lad I pass along the way, who processes the idea of hope just as aggressively as the lot of us, but can't seem to push pass the barrier of "I can't do this." Strong will can be just as elusive as the creature Bigfoot, but just as attainable as drugs are in prison. I guess the intervention is, we must become addicts for hailing history, fiends for the high of discipline and not that junk called excuses.

The tide may wash away your castle, but it's just sand. Soldier the storm, like a captain at sea leading the fleet. What's in the horizon is yours, but only if you believe it can be reached. Put it all to the wind, and sail clear of those Moby's trying to swallow your soul because the big catch is always what's on the end of your line and not what's in someone else's net.

"More Than Friends; To Be or Not To Be?"

I arose, sun in my face, my eyes opened, like rose petals. Sweat beaded my brow, I had a nervous dream. I dreamed I Loved my friend, but was it just a dream? Because a mobile of Hearts, each painted pink with her name still circled around my head even after exiting bed. No subtitle; A,B,C or D options for having this feeling. Why do I? How do I? Well, it's all irrelevant when the friendship fairy tells you that it's wrong, but to be midgetly poetic, if I must say? "I simply just do." That's where existing consistently in one another's human world with all its colorful issues can get you and get you deep.

You see, solving your lives problems together on a daily, without the pressures of having to impress, is the true nature of a woman and man coexisting. So it is inevitable that this nature becomes a fly trap for feelings, we are drawn to the light which is normal and normal is comforting. It is peaceful and without expectations, it is dessert before dinner which makes us real cheeky and all warm inside for whom it is we admire. Them, just being them, is relaxing and attractive, but how does one make themselves blind to what's gorgeous to see, when everything else around is usually so ugly? I've chastised myself, "No,No,No...you just can't do this"...because catching feelings is friendship suicide, but am I wrong for disagreeing? She's become everything that follows the word best.

To some this may read weird because we've never had a face-to-face and shared a conversation over soy latté. I've never shook her hand and felt how soft the skin is, smelled her air or counted how many times she blinks when nervous and blushing bright pink. Yet her rise to this status has been a landslide over all other candidates. A term I hope she'll want to serve for more than eight years. I pray she leads my Love in that happy direction for a lifetime.

"A Day at DMV where the service is at a snails pace, but the people watching is priceless"

In a state where the people sport faces painted with a dark hue of having no hope; they want success, but hate how it looks. I stare with sympathetic tears, but too numb to cry because I'm used to seeing this kind of pain for more than all of my life now ....The fortunate, too rude to really be concerned, put on bogus benefits just to play the part of angels; but those ain't wings, just feathers, and they're flightless, too chicken to really have heart. Too many actors with bad character. Where are the directors? The Leaders not afraid to lead and The surgeons willing to save lives for the meaningful price of free?

Standing in this spiraling line for hours now, which really feels like a turtle's life; I should have a library of words ready to be scrolled, but what you see above is all I've been able to write. Maybe because most of my time has been spent observing a happy little girl, much too big for her stroller, playing with a Dorito bag, like it was American Girl's latest and greatest doll. As her mother muscles to push the stroller with one hand and bounce an uneasy sibling with the other, I can't help but marvel at the joy in this miniature person's face, while she plays with nature's toxic friend and drags her little-big-feet across the fake marble tile, like Flinstone feet. At that moment she taught me, all thirty something of me. Why complain? Just find the joy in the simple things because it's the cushion for making the ride a lot less bumpy.

A.D.I.D.A.S "All Day I Dream About She"

Brainstorming in the city of Culver at a Panera, having a veggie on rye; it ain't no "Stuff I Eat" but the Wi-Fi is free. A heavy storm of motion picture scenes clear up once my eyes become fixed on the sunshine of a young woman and young man engaging in that newly-sprung couple activity of "apartment shopping." The bond of building a home; sharing that soft and guarded place, compromising closet space and erasing "Me" off the directory and adding "We" is what inspires timeless Love songs and matrimony moments. Ideal tenants for a landlord like cupid because it means these Lovemates' lease will last longer than a reality romance...Where the Love is scripted and acted out daily, like trophy wives who marry for Gucci, Louis, and Jimmy. Single Hearts in a Single plot equals a strong ace in a weak house. The cards don't lie when the future of who you're suppose to live and die with is properly prophesied.
Photo Model: Arlette Daluz

Bad Bruno

I walked out of Bruno. Not sure if it's because I'm losing my sense of humor as I approach the threshold of old man, but after thinking, I thought Hangover and Transformers (which sucked, a gold tooth robot that couldn't read?) were both funny, well one of them was. I guess I've just decided that enough is enough with white writers and jewish writers born in the UK writing black jokes. Either do a better job of doing so or just hire black writers to come in and write our jokes . Or just continue to refund hard earned dollars.

"Young Men there is Light"

Young men's absent dads conceal a pair of
very cold hands. No hope thoughts turn
great thinkers into brainless heads.
Seeking answers? Research family trees;
generations after generations have been confined
to the hood charged with hard
times, "POVERTY." Mission is to dig a way out.
Study the struggle of those who came,
conquered and went before us. Freedom to
feel worthy is a gourmet taste. Rich with
effort...
Focus and devise a plan for the
great escape, no longer can we allow the
world to pass us by like marching bands; "It's
a new year." Well composed, note for note
the melody of getting goals accomplished
is a sweet song. Self strength is always on
trial so defeat, never retreat and stare adversity
in the eye. For only the runts with no will to
push aside....DIE!!

Clean Up On Aisle Me Please!!

Quiet as a mouse I tip toed through the house, wishing I had a night light because stumping my toe twice is a pain that makes it very hard to keep ninja silent. With my Polo's tightly glued to my thigh, and when I say glued I mean Krazy glued, like that man in the commercial with his head stuck to a medal beam, but my head was stuck to my thigh, like a colt on a cowboy's left leg.

Finally, I reached the privacy of the bathroom and locked the door, but I still couldn't find the courage to turn on the light. Too embarrassed to look at myself in the mirror, I just stood there sticky with my toe still throbbing, like a Looney Tune character. As I felt around in the dark all I could do was think to myself "Why does she keep doing this to me?" She meaning the woman of my dreams. Sliding in, like a thief in the night, all pretty and perky, as I lay hand on my man, helplessly asleep. She pulls down the cover on my mind and begins to fuck my brain with the fantasy of perfect dates, no arguing and non stop Love making because she wants it, no menstrual....Period!!! She comes and goes, leaving me with one sticky ass mess to shout out. Damn!! Whatever happened to just counting sheep and that old trusty-reoccurring, "I'm falling" dream?

The first time it happened I was 15 and it shocked me into realizing that I was now entering into the kingdom of manhood. Wikipedia calls it "Nocturnal Emission," my Grandpa called it "firing with your safety off, son" and well the most of us call it "A Wet Dream." Now one would ask "Why be embarrassed about it? It's natural, emotionless, drama free, you can't catch the cooties from it and damn it feels good!!!" The answer is "I don't know, it just is." My question is "At what age will having this flood in the lower region no longer be a shameful cloud over my conscience? Will I be 70 years old trying to wheel myself quietly through the halls of some retirement home so that I could quickly, oops I mean slowly change my diaper?" Or maybe it's just another example of Gods practical prank side, I mean he or she did give us George Bush.

Whatever the case may be I guess I will just have to see the humor in it.........Starting now

A.D.I.D.A.S "All Day I Dream About She"

Deep asleep, counting an orchard of orange orchids instead of sheep, I saw her on the red carpet at a fundraiser for feeding foreign children. In her own world she paid me no mind, like the paparazzi guys hollering the names of Hollywood starlets from behind the roped-red line. She stood tall on a perfect pair of toned stilts that stretched long, like an ocean liner layed out across the surface of a still sea. Her hair played in a kind breeze, like palm leaves. Face blushed bright with beauty, yet she nervously shifted in her skin every few seconds as if she didn't belong in the body in which God chose for her to live. As if being herself was a little too much to handle, which aged her hands, old and wrinkled, tired from a short life spent trying to get the handle.

I couldn't help but get lost in her language. My world paused and put on hold. I wanted to jump behind the wheels of her life, take control of her fight and guide her away from whatever pain was driving her insane. My eyes, target locked on her every insecureness, noticed that she looked down when she walked as if she didn't trust her own steps. An etiquette I would hope to help her correct by coaching her on how to walk with more faith.

A random wind suddenly lifted her dress, like teenage perverts horny to see underneath, but she quickly nailed it down, like a circus tent, making sure to never expose any of the tricks and clowns who juggled her emotions and never committed with focus when asked to walk the tight line with her, causing show after show to always end with a bad review.

But as she nears the end of the depress line, I will be there to take her by the hand, to help chaperone the young lady, sad and weak, into the strong and happy woman she is meant to be.
Photo Model: Arlette Daluz

I wrote a song want to hear it? Here it goes "I'm in Love with my Friend"

Intro:
"They say catching feelings for a friend is friendship suicide, but what if you
Love them?".....Let's go!!

Chorus:
I'm in love with my friend
Much better than a bestfriend
I wanna tell her but I cain't
Too afraid to lose my only friend

Verse1:
Lunch on every Saturday
Both vegan share one plate
And when he makes you cry
My shoulder is where you lie
Your pain is my pain
But I don't know why
And I can't explain my heart
Oh why

Chorus

Verse2:
Long walks in central park
Horse and carriage when gets dark
And when she crushed my pride
You said I didn't need it
anyway
My pain is your pain
But I don't know why
And I can't explain my heart
oh why

Bridge:
My world may shine bright
But it's only sun with you in it girl
And this might be living
But it's only life with you girl
Oh...I'm

Chorus

The End

www.sonofparispublishing.com
www.sonofparis.blogspot.com
"I am life so feel free to live Me" -- By Me

A.D.I.D.A.S "All Day I Dream About She"

I reached out with an invite to snoop around the halls of your life and you caught me with a nosy nose of your own and signaled me to find my way in.

The first few days were as potent as a summer romance in the city of Paris. Our minds spoke a common English, but secretly I dreamed that we both were bilingual so that our lips could speak a little French. The official language of Lovers. Do you like to teach? If so can you tutor me with this grammar? You probed with interest and I sparkled, like the Eiffel at night. The image of your smile splashed across my face, like morning rain. Baptized in your glory I felt like a saint because my thoughts practiced abstinence. My lust tightly dressed in chastity couture I held back, like a bull in its pen, steaming to get out. The chatter of cute convo has grown up, moved its way out and moved short talk in. Silence has fallen upon this loud party of feel good flirting, but like old folks who wear aids to hear clearly I will turn my ears up volume high until the sound of intrigue blasts sonic again.
Photo Model: Brandi ALexander

A page from the book..."The Diary of a Nice Guy"

Never been a slave to ego but I now realize that when I'm in your company or when I'm composing some form of wireless connection (sent technologically your way), your non-attraction and non-excitement for my life stings hard like an army of pissed off bees. At the moment I am Toby "Yes sir-ing" to ego like it's my master and letting it boss me around like some grade school bully.

A lion by zodiac, but I'm not quite sure if I'm the king of this jungle or just a coward, cowardly traveling down that yellow brick road seeking a solution for my Heartache because I lack the courage to stop Loving you. An answer hunter with a thirst for figuring things out. I wish the Wiz were a real guru instead of some fairytale fraud faking foolish fortunes because I no longer trust the advice of my own wisdom. I envy he who now holds you closer than close; a place that once was mine...Or was it? A maverick I am, all for the fight to win you back. But am I fighting an old war that only I care about? Is the equipment upgrade way too late to boost the morale of a true trooper whose dedication to my life's cause (which at one point) was concrete? Being at peace with what's meant to be is not always easy to digest when the outcome is not what you dreamed it to be. The anger upsets gut feelings like third world food cooked the
opposite way of healthy.

"The hopeless romantic"...Is that just a sympathetic way of quickly stitching up the (many upon many) bad relationships with romance? Is the bleeding of emotion a self- inflicted pain? Is it bad when we make ourselves vulnerable by stripping down naked, exposing all our fears and doubts to an opportunist Lover who has no limits for taking? "Give me every thing you've got including the Heart you keep hidden in that chest on insecure lock." Taking all they can take, until there's nothing left but a bag full of regret and bitter complaints. Does the stain of lost Love on the palm of our brittle hands make us responsible too... Subpoenaing us to stand trial and testify on behalf of our involvement in the partaking of that infamous crime "killing our own happiness"? In order to supply our Heart's surplus with fundamental answers that would reassure our faith in feelings, one would have to: live this life; die; then, live life twice. Even then, there's no guarantee because Love is often moody...

"And Why?"

It sucks when you're forced to not think about the person that makes your world spin round and round until your punch-drunk-dizzy with foolish Love. Birthdays and holidays important to them are erased from the notepads of chivalry and the discreet sheets of a damsels diary. A once long and lengthy to do list full of charming and caring errands are now crossed out...
And not because you're purposely neglecting what's meaningful to them, but because it's what you need to do in order to get over them. I mean, Less than a yard stick away across a quaint little dinner table made special for two. Lit with illume candles, pineapple-plum scented which makes the evening even sweeter....An intoxicated host "the crystal carafe" also known as "the functioning drunk" or "the panty key" stands tall decorating the center piece with it's belly less than half full (because the thirst of lust makes the two of you so parched that you become instant lush) of a perfectly aged, cellar temperature wine. Gourmet food prepared by some top chef lays pretty like a model relaxing on a foreign beach, but its sand is fine china... hand crafted and tagged with the neat signature of the dreamer who built the dream that holds the seat up underneath your cheeks. A grateful date who is not afraid to spend your time and enjoy it...sits with: Honest eyes focused only on seeing the possibilities of how in Love the two of you could be; Pure Patience for your growth like a botanist raising a rare plant; and amazing attention to your unique detail like some crazed OCD patient. Yet all we do is think about you....And why?

A.D.I.D.A.S "All Day I Dream About She"

We met at a zoo in a city where the weather's thermostat was right in the middle of hot and cold. I stood in front of a deep blue aquarium full of fish that looked as if they were colored by a rainbow. Waiting on you to arrive because I was one step above being on time..."I was early"...I held a bouquet of mixed berry-flavored cotton candy behind my back like a dozen red roses. As you arrived I kneeled on one knee just below your waistline like it was the measurement chart at an amusement park. I handed you your sweet gift and asked, "Will you be mine?" Blinded by your high beam smile you said, "No silly I have a Boyfriend," then out of nowhere one tear fell from your eye and with a look of surprise you wiped it dry, then started to taste my surprise. We walked and held hands in the imagination of my mind, but it felt beyond real because I could feel your fingers massaging my knuckles, clutched tight between mine. You talked about your day and I listened with joy like it was soul music. My shoulder was tapped so I looked behind us and it was our shadows, all hugged up showing us how we really should be; hand in your back pocket and yours in mine, pecking kisses being exchanged every other... other step we make. You mentioned that he never takes this time and out of nowhere another tear fell from your eye. This time I caught it with the tip of my thumb and placed it in my pocket because at that moment I promised to save you the price of spending anymore tears.........Then I woke up
Photo Model: Brandi ALexander

Who Created Code And Why?

As a teen enrolled in the school of studying girls, one of the first lessons I learned as a focused student was to always follow "Code." Never call a girl the first week you meet her or act like you don't like her when you really do. Or ladies, don't let him go down on you or else you'll fall deep in Love (well maybe it was some truth to that one..lol.)

I would like to know who is author of these codes? What is it's origin?

Is it Latin like most of our language? I think our current state of failed Love and bad male and female relations is due to the practicing of these awful codes and all of it's million other siblings for more than half of our lives.

So tell me, what do you think?

"Attack Of The Skinny Jeans"

Now, I am not one to agree with being a vicious dictator or to police the

lives of others, unless that is, they're your children. Children who you've

spent nine hours in labor trying to deliver with no epidural or not enough

of it. Or children who you've worked sixty hours a week for, on a job where

your labor is never honestly rewarded; just to feed their hungry little

stomachs and greedy ass consumer-goods appetite. In that case, rule on, but

let me be human for a second and contradict my previous statement to service

my long overdue opinion on the topic of how pop culture trends can go really

bad.

Certain trends to me should be left in the vault of trends history where they belong.

If Hip Hop is the youth's Capital Hill, then there should be a governing body,

a commission of some sort, that controls the trends we decide to green light

or flat out say "hell no" to. Like the latest 80's UK-rocker, skate boarder

look, "skinny jeans," it's like a bad horror flick. Everywhere I look I'm

being attacked. Boys and girls of all races and creeds, and even a few crips

and bloods (which for the life of me I still don't

understand this species of gangsta) have been spotted rocking these sore sights for healthy

eyes.

I'm not real versed on the history of skinny jeans, but I wonder were they created by some rogue division of government to sterilize men by smothering the shit out of the man sack and it's precious cargo? Or to help women sweat that fat away in those trouble places called the thighs? Either way it is beyond disturbing to see my fellow brothers, who in my eyes are the Gods of creating style, swag, and all the other cool trends in the last...shit this lifetime, fall victim to this awful invasion by the 

"Attack Of The Skinny Jeans."

Now, "Brothers!!!" Based on our African genes (by the way real genes) and the anatomy of our bodies, skinny jeans just ain't for us. I mean needing more room to let our nuts hang wasn't that the whole reason for baggy jeans and

starting our own clothing lines? So that we could make the sizes that fit us just right? You know, for us by us, " F.U.B.U." And there's no straighter way of saying this, but accidentally catching eyes with another man's (Pause!!!) is un-comfy and honestly I'm flat out offended by you wearers of these poor excuses for denim jeans.

The fact that you owners of these jeans on a diet could be so selfish to not think twice

about creating a disturbing image for our sensitive homophobic nature

(wait is that a oxymoron?) is real Bush like, just plain "evil." This is why I have found it

challenging to attend ballets. The exaggerated cup on the male performers

makes it hard (Pause!!) to enjoy the show. To the ex-girlfriend who couldn't

understand why I didn't share the same joy for that form of art, there I

said it, that's why.

In conclusion, we are Americans free to...wait let me rephrase that, we are Americans under the illusion that we are free; there's a price for it and we all pay dearly. We are free to define who we are, which is a God given right that we all should take full advantage of. A bag of skittles wouldn't be a bag of skittles if they were all one color. Know when to say no, master being leaders opposed to being followers, and stand on your own two feet. This is why the styles and unique inventions of those who created before us are being jacked left and right like Egyptian tombs because they were original trend setters. Don't get me wrong, we're all inspired, even they were, but the act of inspiration is to build your brick on top of the brick that was laid before you. Your brick can be painted with color, chipped a little on the edges, and even laid different to the side, backwards or standing up right. Point is set trends, don't just be a part of one. This is America people!! For once be greedy when it counts, and stop the

"COTTON ANOREXIA."

Skinny Jeans was a loved trend, they rocked out on many stages,

styled every Goth kid on the planet,

(and I'm sure a few aliens or two in the far off galaxy) and

caught rail with every skate boarder from the 80's up until now.

Let us hold hands, bow our heads and say it all together, "may they please recycle in peace.".....Amen

Jerks vs. The Nice Guy

To not put anyones narrow-shallow-minded ideologies on blast (because there's probably a nation of them out there, much deeper than the taliban and I don't want that kind of attack...lol) I will respectfully remove the names of all those involved in this here topic (especially my own..lol) So I was having a conversation with a certain elusive species called "Woman." A fine creature, I might add...with an obvious outer beauty, truly favored by God because of the careful attention for her physical detail; pretty black hair that looked as if it never had to argue with a comb, skin colored with a perfect tan, legs carefully designed like a pirates map, but the booty was a little hard to find...lol...

Any who, she spoke, and the words spoken from her mouth revealed a sad theft of inner beauty. She said without hesitation "I will go out with a jerk who's rude to me and has all these other girls much quicker then I will with a Nice Guy to see if I'm missing out on anything." Now I tried hard to not hate and I tried with superhero strength to try and see the logic in what she said, but I'm sorry "That was the STUPIDDDDDEST mess I've ever heard"....lol Is this the new Woman? I thought the women's revolution songs: "Put a ring on it"..."Call Tyrone"..."I Kissed a Girl" (ok maybe not that one) or any one of Mary J's songs was the theme music for the rebirth of the real woman movement. Is that woman now extinct? If so, then The Nice Guy is sure to be at the top of endangered list....(glance at watch)... Like now!!!