"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