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.

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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 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. 

I Find My Happiness In Blushes As I Offer Homage To The Cold

 

I was told I was free to choose. I was raised to believe that dreaming was infinite, but somewhere down the line the story changed. Instead, I was forced to conform. Instead, I was told not to speak of my dreams. Instead, I was clothed with half-truths or no truths. Perhaps, I do not understand. Perhaps, I heard wrong. Now, I am fed up. Now, I am shamelessly confused. Now, I do not know if reality is a dream and if my dreams are anything at all. I would love to say that I am chasing my dreams, but sometimes I do not even know if am capable of dreaming.

 

The dream that we have, is it even our dream? Or is it a dream we were told to dream, a supposed happiness that we should seek. Happiness, what is this happiness? Can anyone define it? Can anyone honestly tell me they are happy and if you can, where do you find it? Are you able to buy it? Are there different types? Do the poor have less of a chance at being happy? Does the middle class have less money to afford happiness than the rich?  Where is your happy place?

 

Somedays I am sure of what I want from life. Somedays I am not even sure I am alive. Somedays I cannot find myself, not even in mirrors – I cast no reflection. I alter between certainty and vagueness. I alter between form and shapelessness. I envision a great tomorrow then I envision mass destruction. Love lays her head next to mine only moments later as I flip the pillow I find a coldness that reaches bone.

I imagine that which is cold was once warm. I imagine it only takes a kind word to change the world. I imagine if I change one cold heart then I have changed the world. I do not fight the coldness, I embrace it. I do not argue with the coldness, I listen. I do not spit at the coldness, I offer it homage and food.

With each spoonful of concern the cold blushes. With each smell of warm smile the cold begins to release its rigid movement. With each sip of hot love the cold glimmers of sparkling memories heart-filled.  

And there I find it. And there I feel complete. And there I see myself. And there I exist. I find my Happiness In Blushes. 

My Gays Put Your Clothes On

Found this piece in my archive. I must have seen something on Instagram or Facebook that upset me…

 

My Gays put your clothes on

Your body is your temple, a gift from above. You do not need to expose it to show it exists.  Your body is for your bedroom not social media.  It is becomes unduly disappointing to see so many fight, argue, and lose their lives to ensure our equality and watch it be squandered in half-naked pictures. Your pictures do not exude sexiness – it presents insecurity.

 

My Gays put your clothes on

Instead of uncovering your body let’s try unraveling your minds; peel off the shirt of superficiality, drag down the pants of starched sexualities, and kick off your boots. You are here and no one is going to take you away. The fierceness you try to portray in pictures, can you use it in a sentence?? Can you hold a conversation and convince the world why you should have rights? Can you stand tall and say I do!?

 

My Gays put your clothes on

We no longer have to settle for the gay next door. There are gays around the world. Gays go to school, Gays run companies, Gays write books, Gays teach classes, and yes Gays are even priests. You can close a 250 million dollar deal and still be fabulous. No one is telling you to put down the bowties or destroy your Cher records.

My Gays put your clothes on

I Want to Unclothe You

Once again there is something moving me.

I want to spoil you. I want to cook for you and rub your back. As you walk in I would unclothe you while whispering, “you are home. You are safe here. In our domain your defenses can be lowered. The world cannot find us, sight cannot enter our world of worlds. We are spirits sent on a journey to renew the world of love. But even spirits must rest. Even spirits are tempted by evil. Charged with a task unlike any other we must continue to move, to inspire, to uplift, to enlighten. Our shine is bright. Our diamonds do not sparkle. I am alone. I am alone. I am here. I was here. I will always be here…somehow. Someway.

What is this feeling, I want I want I want you. But you are no where to be found. Why must you taunt me with your love? Why is it that you can tease me with your absence? Does that even make sense? I have never met you but I feel like I have always known you, yet somedays you feel nonexistent. I do not know what this is. You are half of me, a piece of me, maybe you are me. Sometimes I sit there and feel your warmth, sometimes I sit there and pretend you are here. But you are never here, you have never been here, maybe you never will.

What do we love to do? Do we dance shamelessly all over the house? Are we fully clothed, partially, or maybe not at all? Am I cooking and you slyly walk behind warmingly wrapping your hands around my waist, passionately kissing my neck, then resting your head and watching me cook? Are you in your boxers? What am I cooking? We eat at the table right? We lay out a beautiful menagerie of silverware and dishes. You ask me about my day and I begin to tell you. You cut me off and give me that look – you know better than that. You let me know my rights and wrongs. You inform me of my flaws. You are unafraid of giving it to me raw. Now you speak. I call you a fool. We laugh, spit up our food. We eat, you wash. I take a shower.

Through Tears, Snot, and love: A Letter to My Father

I sat crossed legged on my bed one night and wrote this through tears and anguish. I had one of the largest scares of my entire life. I was not sure how long I had left on this planet because of a foolish impulsive act.  I took my body for granted; I told myself I was invincible.  I stole my innocence away because I was sick of being patient.  Instead of turning to my family for support, I turned to my impoverished emotions. 

**This is my first time reading it since it was written. I like it just the way it is.**

 

Through Tears, Snot, and love: A Letter to My Father

~Will you love me forever knowing that I sinned? Will you love me knowing that your boy is not a boy? Will you love me tomorrow knowing that I am sick? Will you love me when they pull out the coffin? Can you love me when I choose the colors? Can you look at me with my sores? Can you cry with me or for me when I can no longer?  Will you love me father when I pass? Will you bury me? Can you look at me eyes full of tears and tell me you are proud? Tell me you love me and hate and shame do not run through you.

Father, I love you and I have sinned but I am human and I am a sinner. Will you love me forever and can you bury me next to you? Can you hold me as I slip? When it gets dark remember my smile. Let it brighten your day. Look towards the sun and see me. I will always be with you. I will never leave your side. Guide my little brother so he can be a man. Tell him I let him down. Tell him that love will guide him right. Hug my older brother and never let go. The days you didn’t say I love you will never occur again. Whisper it in the wind and pass it on the ripples of the sea. I am your baby boy and I am sorry. ~

 

This excerpt/poem is extremely emotional for me. I am tearing as I write this.  My father is the greatest; I simply want him to be proud of me. He is. We spend our entire lives trying to please our parents even after they pass. At one point I told myself if my parents do not agree with my decision as a man to love other men that is on them, but truthfully I want their approval. I want their blessing. I want them at the wedding.  I want them to hand me over to the love of my life. I want to peer over while at the altar and see my father crying. He will declare that he is proud and could ask me to be no different than I am.  

 

I do not know about you but I want my parents to be a part of my life, my new standard family; a non-traditional non-hetero style of living. I’m in love with my second chance.

The Oracle Has Spoken

I sat one day in front of the computer uncomfortable as ever. I was upset, disturbed, and irritated. The worst part about this experience was I did not know why. All I knew was I wanted to scream. My spirit was in turmoil and from past events I have learned you Never ignore an unsettled spirit. So as writers do, I opened a word document. With no effort at all my fingers preordained for this moment typed as my eyes and mind watched in wonderment. I felt like a modern day oracle of Delphi. This is what I prophesied…

– It was the dawn of time when you said you loved me. But as the fish walked the first walk of life you fled. You grabbed the four-legged creature and left me gasping for air. I was the mer-creature left in a swamp of murk. That night the sea grew cold, deep, and unknown. My scales lost its luster and my gills filled with hate. Eyes peering just over the water-esk horizon I saw you leap into the air on its back. Bound not by green but held by blue.

Every crevice became my shelter, eyes no longer needed, sun unseen. Colder and colder I retreated, deeper and deeper I wandered. The sea was my jar of tears. I could not understand why I could not fly, where was my four-legged creature? I could not understand. I swam faster than any sea horse. I could dodge a shiver of megalodons. The pearls I harbored in my pouch caused volcanoes to heel. I am a masterpiece. The children we would rear would bear the name Triton. A dynasty of esteem. –

I am not sure when the rest of the prophesy will come. I know there is more because I can feel it. But I’ll let you know this – as soon as my spirit starts to roll I shall swiftly start to write. But who knows, the spirit does as it pleases. I’ll probably end up with an entirely new and unrelated foretelling.

Clothes Are For Closets Not Love

I read these stories of other blogger’s past relationships – pain runs deep. My kindness and love was taken advantage of. My sincerity and concern was seen as mistrust. My honesty and integrity was taken as deception. I was duplicity and he was my heart – or forming vestigial. I was told I could not be trusted because of my major; I was receiving my masters in communication. Yes! My ex was a secret multimillionaire bloodline of Alexander the Great who found the burial spot of Jimmy Hoffa. You could imagine that as an aspiring TV personality I could not wait to get the story out.

 How could I expect him to be honest with me when he was not honest with himself? His words of honesty had nothing to do with me but were spew. Words vomited out so his dying heart could grab hold of supposed truths. My fingers shake as I write this post, my anger rises, and my heart goes out to trapped souls who rather kill themselves than be who they are.

Love should not be closeted. Love should not exist between four walls or distant glances in a room full of family. Love should be shared.

We must learn to leave when love no longer sits at the table. Some will never understand how much you do and sacrifice for them. This is when it is time to leave. We must understand our worth. We must understand the value that we possess and can bestow upon others.

If you are in relationship were your love cannot exist, Run! Actually – Walk! And as you walk take heed as to how you came to be. Read the notes you left yourself. Remember the taste of each breadcrumb that lead you to this house.

The Love of Letting Go

I am not sure where my life is headed. I have so many passions and would love to fulfill them all at once.  I want to do so much! This world is full of amazing “things.” I want to act, I want to dance, I want to sing, I want to write, I want to speak – I love to entertain.  I enjoy these things because when I am in front of people something inside me changes, I become another person. And at those moments, it is no longer about me but about my audience. I love to see the expressions on their faces change; the transformation and build up of emotions. I can feel them wanting more. I want to give them more.  My body surges with excitement as we, audience and I, create magic. We bond. A communication between us begins to form. Ohh and when I dance! There is no greater remedy I know.  The body moves to a beat, a rhythm— a ballad between body and sound.  I cannot control myself. With each move there is a release of energy.  People flock to me when my hips begin to sway and my head begins to bob. They dance with me; enter my world as I enter theirs. 

One of my favoritest dancing experiences are when individuals who do not like to dance, “cannot dance”, or are embarrassed find themselves dancing with me.  They let go of their fears. Who cares what people think.  Who are they to say you cannot dance? Your dance moves are of your own, it is your story.  Release, breath, let go, and move! The pleasure that comes across their faces, the love of letting go – one of the greatest things I know.