A letter for all those who need a little reality reading

We've come a long way, but we've also stopped where we were going and forgotten where we were headed, like GrandMa's mind. Our confidence was once Center size and the top was never too high enough, but now we can't seem to reach where we're supposed to be, like kids trying to get what's on the top shelf. Sick with excuses success is the only cure now. Bored with all the dreaming, it's time for real living now. Roses and flowers of all kinds frown and wilt as we walk by because we're blocking the light and they're dying for us to shine. Our faith feels tired, maybe because we're not using it enough. Kidneys soaked in One Barrel because we're drinking too much. We've tried to cry it out, but our tears are all dried out. Grumpy, like Grandpa's, blaming everything and everybody except for the person where the blame is actually coming from. Staring at the sky as if the life we're supposed to live is just going to fall out of it and hit us on the head, like some space apple.

We don't need help thinking, we need help with doing what it is that we're thinking. Some self help magazine asked, "What is it that we like about ourselves?" and after thinking, the honest answer is, "We can't pick a part of our selves until we pick apart ourselves."

Taught to trick life, but the truth is, magic only happens if you're a rabbit so our show has to be believable because failure can always smell a fraud, like bloodhounds hunting fugitives. A ten and two fives is how rich some of our wallets are so we stress about how to double, triple and quadruple that times one hundred. Life lessons learned the hard way from mistakes and certain tough choices is time wasted, but never a waste of time. Only wasting time not learning is a life wasted, so it's probably more wise to not be wasteful. Standing with our hands out will only allow us to take what we can get. We must make life stick its hands up, dig into its pockets and take what's ours.

Epiphany #7

If they're raising a child alone with no spouse around it doesn't always mean that they're damaged, it just might mean they know how to manage.

What Killed The Glass Of Tap Water?...."The Bottle Did"

Bottle water killed the complimentary offering of a glass of water to guest. It makes house, apartment or condo guest real greedy. They'll open one, half drink it, then take it, and a new one for the road. I'm going to start breaking out that pitcher of Brita filtered water with glasses again and add lemon slices because lemon slices always make you forget that you're drinking tap water. And to all my trend following-consumer friends who are addicts for good marketing, "Smart Water" will not make you smart "Reading Will!!!" Trust me, one of my boy has been drinking "Smart Water" for years and he just got caught sexting back and forth with his assistant. His wife put his raunchy self photo shoot into a slide show then emailed his whole contact list. So whatever water his wife drinks he needs to start drinking that!!!

Epiphany #6

If you open up their closet and you are avalanched by a mountain of their junk then that means they still haven't dealt with all their mess and probably don't know how, so bring your maids kit and apron because you'll be doing a lot of soul cleaning.

The NFL Combine...."The Athlete Auction"

Well that time of year has come and gone again where young super freak athletes built like Skynet T-800's parade around a field made of artificial green being told when to jump, when to run and how fast to do it, it's the human "Best in Show". Whoring what's left of their athletic talents at the 2010 NFL Combine, after the good Old Collegiate Mob and Shady Booster Dons have already slutted out their talents for billions of that new, funny looking money in exchange for buffet type meals, warm up sweats advertising the schools name (free walking ad space), a few girls who give them an early dose of how addicting fame can be, and an education that most of them never even get. All for the sake of wanting to do what they Love, "Play," buy Mom and Big Momma that dream home down the street from the hood and to be able to trade in the lemon that barely made it to each and every one of their Pop Warner and high school games for the German experience, a Mercedes Sl v12, with heated leather, navigation and wood grain. Oh and let's not forget do a little splurging on themselves, not limited to, but exhausting a few G's; making it rain inside clubs, normal or nude, or mining a neck, wrist or mouth full of those blingy things.

After watching this years future Monday Night prospects push themselves to be valued high in the eyes of those who crunch the numbers and determine these Gridiron Cyborgs' worth based on pre-written guides, like some sort of NFL Kelley Blue Book; how old they are, their weight, height, how fast they run the 40, and how long they'll last in a game where every time they touch the field it is like being in mini car accidents. Where each down played is an investment made in the bank of "Brain damage," which I guess turns out to be a much better diversified portfolio than being bankrupt vegetables, "Spine or the Mind, Mind or the Spine?"

There are only two activities that take place over the six days, the personal interview and the drug testing that I midgetly agree with. Contradicting myself just for a brief moment and tapping into my own inner business man, I can kind of understand owners wanting to know what they're investing in, but even that concern has its limits to me because that's what behavior clauses in contracts are for, "Behave or don't get paid." Sad thing is most of the players invited will probably never even make it out of the Combine to become household names, only to be written off as just clunkers, never getting a chance to earn any of the cash, which is why some, I guess, invitees take their chances by not even attending. Critics or experts, experts or critics say it's a risky move when it comes to how high a player drafts. But I like the gamble just for the principle "Draft me for what I've done already and let me finish proving while you're paying me," that's one hell of a poker face.

I wonder though, do other professionals like doctors or lawyers endure this same kind of exploited obstacle course after they've already proven themselves worthy by finishing med school or passing the bar? I know in every industry or on every job there is competition to remain and exist, but usually it's that way once you're already a part of the team; getting paid, competing to remain a part of the team all while continuing to be paid right?

I mean are med students put in a surgery room the size of an arena with other med students and timed on how fast they perform an open heart surgery? Or are Law students put in a courtroom to see how many witnesses they can break in a day? How well they studied and what ivy league school they obtained their degree from is often enough to pave their way. If I'm not mistaken, medical students are paid minimal salaries while they do their residencies and the same goes for Law students when they're legal assistants. The outcome of their careers rest solely on their shoulders, it's up to them how long they burn the oil in the libraries studying. Which is the equivalent to a student athlete eating right, daily weight room workouts, staying out of trouble (which still bugs me to why it's so important for athletes to be held to that standard and not other elected "Role Models") and avoiding all foul play 

i. e., drugs and steroids. But yet they don't get paid for this same focus and discipline as their fellow future professionals. And if a player does decide to partake in the fruits of their labor and accept bags full of cash gifts it is a violation, in comes the banishing, quickly ruining their future which is why I again respect the athlete who decides not to attend; "You can't win for losing," so play how you wanna play and at your own risk.

I must say the whole process seems a little slavish. All that's missing is some Massa looking man examining their nude frames, stretching and opening their jaws just to show how strong their teeth are in front of an audience full of pale, sun stressed looking potential buyers and owners, while rapidly shouting out prices for their stock, "45,55,65 Sold!" Now some would argue, "No one is twisting their arms," well maybe not someone, but life sure is.

Life has them hostage and ain't no negotiating. Rent, gas and lights keep their hands bound and demand to be paid. Then let's not forget about family, close and extended who depend on them to feed the whole nest. Family is the hybrid beggar, a cross between the IRS and a disgruntled ex wife, "They want more than half" of what you worked so hard for, which is a special kind of pressure in itself because they never want to be the warrior who let the village down, leaving them with a smeared name, "Aww he really changed." But none of what I just said should even be an argument because the truth is they are future professionals who have worked just as hard as other future professionals and should be able to step through the same doors without having to build the same door over and over again before they walk through it.

When the ink on the headlines dries, A "Riser" or "Faller," one of the two titles will be the Sir that stands before each of the young athlete's name. It's not my birthday, but I wish I were in charge of passing out the sir names because they'd all be Risers to me, just for making it this far.

Awkward Moments....

Even when you're not trying to be sexual certain things we say can come off sooooo sexual. A woman said to me "Aww you're so cute I could just eat you up" and I said "Be careful now I'm full of bones." Talk about awkward and as a man, trying to explain what you really meant just makes it more freakishly awkward. I guess for us the little big head is always pulling the strings, making us their puppets even when we're not in the mood to play.

Quotes Of The Day....by Me

"Everyone wants to be a Philanthropist, it's American Culture "What did I do while I was there" so I guess it's just a matter of what kind of Philanthropy you want to be remembered for. I know mine, you?"

We Are Gods Kleenex

When it rains it's Gods way of letting us know that we're Loved. The joy is so overwhelming that the tears flood our lives all bubbly, like warm baths, cleansing us of everything that makes us dirty. And when our Holiness is done showering us with gallons of affectionate blessings, Cotton clouds brush across the Anointed ones' cheeks, soaking up every Loving drop of Hearty Heart left, like Bounty. And for our troubles of wearing shorts when it's pouring, ruining that new car wash or for nappying up freshly permed and stitched in weaves because of all the heavy sprinkling, God will smile a big bright rainbow across our gloomy sky to color our mood gay, keeping us happy until the next emotional vent storms our way.

"Life" by Genevieve Richards

"Life? Can we call a truce? I promise that if you stop sucker punching me, then when I get off the floor, I will not beat you into oblivion as you so deserve. I don't know if you remember the last time I had to kick your ass, but as I recall, it wasn't pretty. So... do we have a deal?"

Epiphany #5

How clean they keep their home is usually a great sign of how tidy they are with their life.

Silencing The Crickets

Mind full of crickets. Life ping's around, like a kid kicking a Coke can. The future of the invent is like an expecting Mom not wanting to know the sex on the ultra, "You never know what you're getting until it get's here." Thoughts all wrinkled, optimism is the maid that irons them out, fear is the mud that tries so hard to dirty them up again and again, but then faith is always the Tide that Surfs right in and cleans them Fresh, like lavender spring wind. Mornings bring new chances, evenings remind us to take full advantage of whatever's left in the rest of our 24, nights mean it's over forever and ain't no turning the past back. The jukebox only plays two tunes, happy or sad, so the song you sing should always be worth the quarters you spend.

I Love the mood that the forest is in when flowers are blooming, "Silent and Beautiful," with Bambi skipping thru its bush not stressed because all the wolves have been humbled to puppies. The sun joins the party, so it shines down and dances across the grassy floor, like Sammy playing Bo Jangles on Broadway. An audience of chatty birds whistle and applaud from their branch seats perched high above in maple flavored pine trees, looking down on chickens who've forgotten that they have wings and are too afraid to fly. Moving like a slinky, the water falls meeting the rest of its body in a pool big enough to hold its weight, causing a cool mist of spit to spray tired and parched leaves from all the bouncing around to the beat of a soulful breeze. This kind of mood is what silences the crickets and gives ink to a future that was once only just paper. This kind of mood is what silences the crickets....

How Come?....

How come football players still talk into the camera when they know we
can't hear them?

Epiphany #4

If they tell themselves lies, then they'll only tell you more.

Religious Love

Her wisdom was about as deep as a kiddy pool so I played the Hebro and tried to let my cup runneth over, but She wasn't feeling my kind of Bible, like critics of the King James version. I wanted Her to walk and talk with me, hand in hand, but She couldn't see the light and how do you have faith in the faithless? Spirit on E, I fell to my knees because all I had left, was to give Her my prayer.

Epiphany #3

If they listen to others more than they listen to their own Heart, then they might be bad listeners.

How Come?....

How come athletes celebrate after making a great play when their teams are losing? I mean, it's like trying to wine and dine, open doors, or listen to a Woman you used to date tell you about Her day after She's got a new man, "It's far too late".

I Want To!!!!

I want to rise, like the sun and shine without worrying about whether or not my rays are going to be too bright for those who can't soak up the light. I want to beat my chest and enjoy my Lady, like Kong without being shot down. I want to build my home and it be strong so that if the wolf try's to huff and puff, then it'll just be out of breath. I Want To!!!.............

The Truth Is.......

I got evicted because I couldn't pay the rent because I haven't had a steady job since '05, ok really '06, but '05 just ryhmed. God Bless my landlord, Gloria, for allowing a tenant like me to live life late for so long. My tags on my car are out of date because I'm shuffling money around, like Vegas cards, showing favoritism, paying one bill over the other at a time because I have to, and not because I want to. I used to work for the Wayans, ok let me stop here because I'm gaged and can't say anything until I'm told I can say something. 

My body has ballooned in weight because my wealthy-healthy way of living is now $3 buck specials from fast food joints that serve Super Sized servings of heart attack, diabetes and high cholesterol. My girlfriend, who's now my ex girlfriend, left me for some dude named Nate whose family made a fortune off of building gates because She got tired of paying for all our dates. The hair smack dead in the middle of my head has vanished, like a magician's act, leaving me with a sun roof that I can never close again, Gone!! and I'm trying to hold on, so I do the black man's version of a comb over and wear baseball caps matched perfectly with every thread below the cap. I tell lies because I don't think the truth is good enough. I hate white people who hate black people, even though I'm friends with a few of them and I hate black people who hate other black people and refuse the idea of unity, even though I'm friends with a few of them. I watch more porn than a porn director and read less books than a dyslexic. 

My teeth need cleaning and my breath stinks more than normal because I haven't seen a dentist since having insurance that would fund my visits. My face isn't as soft and clear as it used to be when I could afford Kiehl's, Dermalogica and all that other personal pampering. My penis doesn't swell as thick as it used to swell because the high cholesterol from the bad diet blocks the blood from successfully being injected. I drink more than I used to drink, so to me, I'm starting to transform into the father who never raised me, something I always dreaded becoming. My Mother was my strength, but She also is my weakness because whenever I wanna feel sympathy for my own short comings I excavate that pain in order to feel something.

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My credit is shot and I owe more money than the USA owes China. I hide my car wherever I can hide it, so that it doesn't get repoed because I only owe three grand or so. I went from promising to fitting just about every Black Male stereotype, except couch potate playing Madden all day, but I might as well since my time is wasted doing nothing else productive. 

I voted for Barack just because he was black, but I'm starting to feel like I'm getting the same results now that I would be getting if I had voted for any of the other candidates, well maybe not that Sarah Palin chick. I only go to church to hear the choir sing and after that you can find me sleeping. I don't eat pork, but I like the smell of bacon. I like the idea of being a Muslim, but don't agree with the Women having to cover their faces. I Love the Person I could be, but hate what I see when it's comes to facing the glass that reflects me to me. The Truth is..............

The Champ's down and out and can't bring the heat

Damn!! I guess its rough out there for everybody. Evander Holyfield's Wife has filed for a temporary protective order against him after he allegedly struck Her in the back and back of the head while they were in the bed. Now at first I thought, "Damn he fights in his sleep too!!"but She claimed that when She complained about the heat being cut off in their mansion and that it was too cold He hit Her and said "You only thinking about yourself." He felt She was being disrespectful when she pulled the covers over Her head. He then said, "You need to start putting God first in your life." No Negro!! Turn on the heat, She probably pulled the covers over Her head so that She wouldn't freeze.

Epiphany #2

If they can't let go of them, then they will never be able to hold on to you.

She Tells Me.............

She tells me to be honest, but when I do the truth usually hurts one of us. She tells me to not hide my feelings and emotions, but when I express them my kindness is often mistaken for weakness. She tells me that it doesn't matter how much my wallet is worth, but when She sees how much his is worth, then what I'm worth has no value. But when She tells me that She Loves me everything She told me earlier.......is forgot.

Epiphany #1

You should never want them more than they want you.

Fighting is Mandatory

Life's playground is grade school, "Ain't no arms strong enough to hold us back," and if there are then that means "Deep down inside we really didn't want to fight anyway." The key to winning is showing up at 3 o'clock because calling failure's bluff is the way to score the BIG knockouts.


















Getting respect starts with respecting yourself first and that always comes from standing up for yourself. Failure can only bully you around if you never punch back, so fill your knuckles with confidence and faith, bob and weave all obstacles and swing for success because when it's time to count someone out you never want it to be you whose back is on the canvas facing up; you want it to be you who's bouncing, standing up ready to take on the next bout.

How Come?......

How come after a runner wins a track meet and they're trying to replace the lungs with air that they don't just hold up one finger to the reporters before giving an interview, signaling "Hold up I need a minute to catch my breath"?

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

She had the Body of a model walking the runway during fashion week, petite little frame, but much more curvy than those stick figure dames. She danced real sexy, like a dancehall queen. I held her hips with my eyes and stayed on beat with my mind as she showed me how perfect her body and feet could mingle. At that moment I wanted to be a part of her, and it didn't matter what part, just a part.

Goose bumps on my tongue, I couldn't find the words so I stayed stuck in my shoes, like Mafi victims sleeping deep with the fishes. It wasn't about courage or ego, I just didn't want to ruin her evening or the one chance I had to make her glad; glad that she decided to leave her pad, glad she did her hair the way that it was did and glad she hung out with the friend she did because that friend would be the reason why we connected.

Nerves on level 12, I was sweating, like a fat kid climbing two stairs, and as I dried my sweaty palms on the pockets of my pants I noticed that every other man was hard at work trying to execute their own plan. Raised to be a real man, but I suddenly dipped my chin, raised the white flag and gave up on dreaming of what she could possibly mean to me and I to her. And not because I was giving up, but because she smiled like she enjoyed the attention and because I dreaded the reaper of rejection.

My friends signed the "let's bounce" sign so I headed for the exit, and as I crossed her life I shyly handed her a business card, but I had no business saying goodbye via the cowardly way. Alone in my car, all the way home regretting the regret; Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda bounced around in my head, like a pin ball. With Cupid on one shoulder preaching me an earful for dropping the ball, God appeared on the other shoulder and said, "leave him alone" then blessed me with a number and said, "now call".....
Photo Model: Raeven Western

My first post of the year....Happy New Year To Me

The greatest move I could ever make is to just move. Let my feet be the wind that blows me in the clouds stuffed full of my plans, plans that I plan to rain down on the canvas of life, bleeding it's fabric with the bright side of strife. Plans I've had since I first shot them to the sky when I was aware that I could dream, which was around the age of 6 going on 16. Tucked tight between the threads of my sheets with no religion I planned not prayed, but either way God heard it the same because I'm still planning and someone is still listening.

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.