As I Grow Old

To feel imperfection is to be alive. I am faulted. Each day I see a new wrinkle. I trace the receding nature of my hair. I experience the click clack of my knees. I am no longer a child. I see the elderly and do not laugh, I wonder…Who were they then? At what age did sickness and health meet?

I watched (which felt like forever) an elderly man and woman walk
hand-in-hand down the sidewalk. Their pace was painstakingly slow yet unbearable beautiful. Imagine just imagine, once upon a time they ran, ran down sidewalks and skipped across streets – a speed as a child I envied to reach. Long legs. Reassured direction. Knowledge of symbols on poles. No parents.

I envied the older. Now I envy the old. Every tinge I feel, I think to myself this is it. Every night from work before I place my head, I stretch my back. The labor of the day has stiffened its length. In between shifts I stop at the mirror and stare, one day it will not be toothpaste but Poligrip.

This may sound like Hell. I call it beautiful madness. Some wish for cars and mansions, I yearn to grow old. I hope to wake and sit at the edge of the bed to catch my breath. I got up too fast. My heart is racing. I’m sweating like hell! I wish to walk up flights of stairs and stop on the third step as I hold up the line. I’ll smirk at their impatience. I wish to sit in parks all day, barely moving, as the kids ask if I’m alive. I am, just admiring the landscape. I want to go to Church with sunglasses as I nod in and out of sleep – an hour is just too damn long!

I wish for life in my staggered breath. I wish for patience in my “hard a hearing” ears. I wish for wisdom in my speech. I wish for grandchildren that take delight in me telling the same story over and over.

I think today I’ll walk a little slower. Maybe I’ll name my wrinkles. And instead of calling myself faulted and aged, I’ll say congratulations you made it another day.

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From Glory to Rags: L.A. Days.

I went from King of an island to street rat of the sunny coast; from sleeping on incandescent diamonds to laying sleepless on pyrite. The days have become painstakingly long. The sun burns my shoulders and phone calls/text messages are a constant reminder of what I left behind. Chasing a dream. Finding myself. An adventure. I arrived on the golden coast and met lies, conversed with memories, ate with loneliness, and slept with sex. The color green slowly transforms into red. All that I was became all that I feared I never wanted to be. I am a loner. I explore this new world all by myself: I buss alone, I eat alone, I wander alone – I am alone.

I am living with my cousin. Sounds amazing… but what if I told you we just met? What if I told you I just found out he existed? I met him for the first time when I moved in – I introduced myself as I unpacked.

 

Two dreams in a box.

I Have That Itch – I Am Being Called To Serve

I am getting that itch, you know the one. The one when I have to leave. The one when I feel that all my work is done and there is nothing I can teach you. I have given you all the tools you need to survive.  But most importantly, I am being called somewhere else. Where? I do not know, but I am being called. I can feel them or him or her calling me. Help is needed, my guidance is wanted.  A new adventure awaits. It is a life style I am becoming accustomed to; one I am beginning to understand.  I would love to stay in one place but I cannot, this is not quite my reality yet.

 

I learn and teach. I make and give. I teach and learn. I give and make.  I am a traveler of sorts. An inventor of many. An explorer of times. I am alive. I have to share what I have learned to give what is needed. I have to learn what is experienced and then spread what needs to be known. This is my calling, this is my being…this is my life.

 

This next place feels hot. It feels quiet and unsaid. I feel energy kept, waiting to be released. I see sex, I hear drugs, and my eyes burn from the lights. I do not know this place but I have heard of this town. I have seen these people but I have not met them. They know of me but have never dreamed of me. I am their hope, they are my aspiration. This place feels right. There is a lesson waiting.

How Do I Stop This Tape??

I tire of the repeated stories in my head. I grow bored of the constant replay and edits. Is their no sanity in this mind? I am not my past. I am the present. These words ring wonders but the practicing of it, not so much. Why is it so easy to replay pain but hard to imagine glory? My day is filled with fighting my mind from wandering into the pits. Why are we all so plagued with the belief that we must suffer? We are obsessed with the idea of struggle. Man vs Man. Man vs Nature. Man vs Himself. Elementary, my dear Watson. It makes a good story. Cinema. Lights, Camera, Action!

I want to see without thinking for once. I want to feel without feeling. I want to exist without the rotating, “Why Do I Exist?” Can I sip tea and be merry in the motion of sipping?

Do You Want to Talk About It?

Do you want to talk about it?

Do you want to talk about it?

Yes!

Let’s talk about how much it hurts. Let’s talk about how I am still feeling it. Let’s talk about how I am addicted to the pain. Let’s talk about how something so lovely could feel so horrific. Let’s talk about how something warm and round turned into shards of glass slipping down my throat. Let’s talk about heartache. Let’s talk about betrayal. Let’s talk about friendship. Let’s talk about sleepless nights. Let’s talk about you. Let’s talk about me. Let’s talk about sacrifice. God, the Universe, the Law of Attraction. Let’s talk about science. Let’s talk about new world orders. Sub atomic particles, Quantum Physics, emotional stability. Mental analysis. Twin flames-soul mates. Segregation, discrimination, memories that won’t leave. Memories that won’t come. Dreams that are in the past. Future events never to come. I am talking pure religion, physical attraction, romantic explosion, lost wisdom. I’m gonna cover sex and blisters, and long nights with whispers. Caress my body and cuddle my mishaps. We gonna walk down the streets with death on our hips; pestilence on the left and mortification on the right while looking hope and creativity straight forward. I’m talking about love – you know what I mean?

So, do you still wanna talk???

FACING THE GREAT INNER FEAR

A powerful read.
“The man who finds himself always being the strong one, stepping in to help carry the heavy load, fix what is broken, chase off the bully; he has come in this life, not to develop the strength of which he is so proud, but to allow his inner weakness and vulnerability to express. “

ADIKANDA

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“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose, Nothin’ don’t mean nothin’, honey, if it ain’t free..” – Kris Kristofferson and Fred Foster from Me and Bobby McGee

We seekers think that we are here to learn to be compassionate – we are not. We think we are here to learn to be peaceful and strong – we are not. We think we are here to be tolerant, wise, authentic, loving… all the qualities we consider to be spiritually correct.  Yet the truth is, while we are are all expressions of the same Source, we are, each of us, here to learn what is important for our own individual balance – and that is not the same journey for any two people on this Earth.

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The Oppositional Nature of our Destiny

The man who finds himself always being the strong one, stepping in to help carry the heavy load…

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My Love is Too Wild to Be Caged

This is the second poem I wrote after watching Tyler Perry’s “For Colored Girls.”  My hand rushed against the paper to bring a message of internal surge. As I read it now I feel power, pain, courage, fear, and love. This poem is a mesh of all my experiences – triumphants and failures. I did not like the poem at first, but after watching my friend’s expression after she read it I became intrigued. Between you and I…I think the poem is so personal that I am afraid to share it.

 

~My Love is Too Wild to Be Caged~

 

My love is too wild to be caged

Too pure to be thrown in my face

My love is too raw to be cooked, boiled, and seasoned

My love is too Godly to be served, to be written, and spoken.

 

For a gay boy my love is just as real

I am unashamed of my body and its wants

For a gay boy my love is too real to be sexualized

For a gay boy my body is too manly to be demeaned

My heart is too red to be diluted, too fierce to be tamed.

 

As a man my heart is too real

As a man my heart is here, hard, and soft

Melting and stone. Hard. Soft. Crazy. Painful and full.

 

As a man my heart is me

As a gay boy my heart is me

As a child my heart is me

As me my heart is here.

My Pain is Many

I watched Tyler Perry’s For Colored Girls this weekend and it put me in a whirlwind of emotions. The first time I watched this movie was during a period of my life when I was experiencing extreme anxiety – I went insane! Now, if you have not seen this movie you are definitely missing out.  Here is one of four poems I wrote as the tide of emotions erupted.

~My Pain is Many~

My pain is lonely

My pain is horny

My pain is crazy

Yet, it invokes my creativity

But, it drives my sanity

 

My pain is single

My pain is sexual

My pain is infidelity

Yet, it invokes my celibacy

But, it drives my chastity

 

My pain is complex

My pain is medicated

My pain is judgmental

Yet, it invokes my kingship

But, it prevents my downfall

 

My pain is beauty

My pain is lovely

My pain is contagious

Yet, it invokes my sadness

But, it drives my passion

 

My pain is simple

MY pain is soothing

My pain is Godly

A New Lease On Life

I wrote this a couple of months back when I was bedridden. I rather experience 10,000 heartbreaks than lie in bed wondering if I will ever see Christmas as I once did.

During this time I learned what true friendship and family meant. As I layed there in thought, misery, and shame they ensured I never felt lonely. True friendship and family are relentless and unwavering in their pursuit to adore and love you. They smother you with love, they do not care if you want it or not. They do not leave you alone even if you want to be left alone. Sometimes in your lowest points you want to be miserable, but they stop you right there and interject themselves. And you know what – it works!

Without them I would be nothing. Without them…without them…without them…I could not breath.

 

 *A New Lease On Life*

~Gahhh!  It was a month from Hell. A month I never want to relive or re-visit. My energy was stolen. My hope was diminished. My body was slain. And my faith began to fade. Only through one eye was I able to see the world, which at this point slowly began distancing itself from me. Life began to seem whimsical and faity-tailish. But I knew it was upon me. Before I fell into darkness I patiently waited for its arrival. I met the mornings by peering through the blinds to ensure the porch was free of shadows. The evenings were a blaze of screeching tires and horns to escape cold fingers. And the nights consisted of locked doors and bodily shivers under covers at the tinge of any sound.

 

Finally, fatigue introduced itself first. Headache swiftly came next. And Irritation was the last to sit down…or so I thought. Unbeknown to me, my guests invited guests. They arrived later, opened the fridge without asking and ate strength, dignity, and my future. I cannot tell a lie and say they did not bring gifts because they did. After stripping my table of its beauty they laid another kind of setting, a Brothers Grimm inspired setting. Forks of shame, napkins of tears, cups of solitude, gravy of regret, a turkey filled with isolation, and of course my favorite a freshly baked bread of annihilated dreams.  

 

The end was closing in on me and inadvertently my family. All I could think of was shame. In my mind I was battling the lesser of two evils. If given the option I would have chosen pain over shame. And if you knew my options neither of them would be anything you would want to pull out of a hat.

 

How could I have let the madness inside me drive me to this point? I was reckless in my actions, heartless in my endeavors, and ruthless in my delusional conquest. I wanted to prove a point to a person who was not even listening. I wanted to show myself a good time knowing damn well it could never amount to happiness and true revenge. My face bubbled in fury. The sin that lived within surfaced and showed its face.  It itself wanted to be free, wanted air to breath. It became tired of being overlooked and fed scraps. ~

 

It is time the Broken Hearted Reclaim Their Lives.

A Smile Reached My Bedside

I live for the thrill. I live for the times I cannot believe what I have done. I am 24 and raging. I am 24 and evolving. I am 24 and changing. Time moves so slowly while life moves so fast. One minute I am here and the next I am worlds away. A new adventure every minute. A new heart every second. Sometimes I wonder if I will be alive in the morning, sometimes I wish I would be dead in the morning. I cannot endure a pain greater than the one today, but I know I can experience greater joy than I did two days ago. I guess that is what keeps me going. The potential for happiness, the hope of faith. The look of better more fulfilling days.

 A smile reached my bedside today, from who I do not know but it warmed my toes and wiggled in my stomach.  I awoke with a rush and sent a smile and a hug to a bedside in a far off land.