Resentment


“I’m crying, can’t stop crying, can’t stop crying.”

I had a dream last night. In it I was being chased and attacked by a Rottweiler, of which I was desperately afraid. In an adjacent room was my grandmother, my sister, and my aunt watching me as I was mauled with every misstep by this Rottweiler. They all sat there as this dog and me destroyed the house. My grandmother said nothing. She made no moves, and didn’t even bother to acknowledge my cries. After it was over, I was lambasted and ordered to leave the house. My grandmother started screaming at me for “destroying” her house. I started screaming back because I had literally just evaded what could have been my death. I screamed “WHAT ABOUT ME!” This dog just tried to kill me and she just let him. She just let him maul me. She watched me in excruciating pain and agony and did nothing to protect me. She did nothing to stop him. Then, in my dream, my aunt jumped up trying to push me out the house and we started fighting.

I woke up, looked at my clock, and started crying. This is why…

“I wish I could believe you, then I’d be alright. But now everything you told me really don’t apply to the way I feel inside.”

I woke up this morning in hysterics, crying bitter, semi-sweet tears. Bitter because of what its taken me over 20 years to figure out, and semi-sweet because I’ve finally figured it all out. I’m told often, almost weekly, and sometimes even daily, that I appear to be very angry and aggressive. My disposition, my voice, and even in my writing seems to convey a sentiment of anger or aggression. It comes out when I’m driving and I have a bit of road rage. It comes out when I have bouts with authority. It’s even expressed through my constant change in mood. I hear it so often that I’ve grown to accept that its what I exude, and although its never been my intent, I AM ANGRY! Before today, I was absolutely unsure of exactly where it came from. Therapists have told me that it’s a direct result of post traumatic stress syndrome stemming from the loss of my parents at such a tender age in my development. I was almost 7. But today, this morning, before the sun came up, when it was still dark outside and only an occasional car could be heard from my bedroom window, at 5:15 a.m. I awoke from my dream, and it hit me like a ton of bricks, rocked me to the core, and now I know why.

“Loving you was easy, once upon a time.”

It started immediately. The day after they died was my seventh birthday. My uncle had taken my sister and me to his house after we were briefly questioned by MPD. He had an apartment uptown on 13th street around the corner from 4D. I can’t remember if his new bride was there that night or the next day or at all. But the next morning; Saturday December 2, 1989 was my birthday. I remember that he gave me Cap’n Crunch (my favorite) cereal for breakfast. Afterwards, he took me into the bathroom in this tiny one-bedroom apartment, sat me on the toilet, pulled out scissors, and cut my rattail. My father started letting me grow a rattail a few months back. I guess now that he was gone, this uncle needed to show me, a seven year-old, on my birthday, the day after my parents died, that HE was in charge now. He told me that only sissy’s wear rattails. Slowly my uncle started weaving his ideals into fabric of who he thought I was going to be. I remember one night after I’d just finished dinner, I was stuffed and my stomach was in knots. and I began to have what I thought felt like a stomach cramp. Now, I was a little boy living in a house full of females, and far too often I remember hearing talk of pads, and tampons, and “periods”. I quickly learned exactly what it was, its symptoms, and its effects. But anyway, I had just finished eating, and I remember my oldest aunt and my cousin being there. I started walking around the house holding my stomach, and like I’d heard the ladies in the house say before, I said, “I got cramps, and I feel like I’m about to come on”, jokingly. My aunt overheard me and said, “little boys don’t say that.” At that very moment I glanced over to my other aunt, the youngest, right as she looked at me with disdain, and mumbled, “faggot” underneath her breath. I quickly looked away from her trying to pretend that I didn’t hear what she said. Then, my older aunt said to me, “you better not say that again or I’m going to call your uncle.” So, with fear in my eyes and heart, I shut down. A short while later, while still feeling the pain in my stomach I walked towards the bathroom and mumbled to myself, “It hurts. I feel like I’m pregnant.” But I didn’t realize at the time, that the other person mumbling in the house was standing nearby and overheard me and announced it. The older female immediately got on the phone and called my uncle. OMG! I’m in trouble now, I thought. But my stomach really did hurt, and I hadn’t said anything that I didn’t learn from the women around me. “Why do I have to get in trouble?” Shortly after, the uncle arrives to have a “Man to Man” talk with me about men and what they should and should not say. After his tedious monologue, I shook my head and let him know that I understood and walked away. I remember thinking “Whhhhew! I’m glad I didn’t get a beating.”

Time went on, and occasionally I’d still, unbeknownst to me, say things that “little boys don’t say”, but there weren’t anymore “Man to Man” talks. The “Man to Man” encounters became “Man beating little boy ” encounters, cause there weren’t gonna be any faggots in this family. But it seemed like every time I got a beating for whatever the surface reason was, I’d think to myself… “Everybody keeps calling me a faggot though, and you’re trying to beat it out of me, while you and the rest of the people around me keep saying it.” I knew I didn’t say it. I hated the word. It was an epithet that rivaled “Nigger” in my eyes, but I couldn’t control people saying it to me. They said when I was at school, and they said it when I was at home too. Everybody in my immediate family, at some point, used this dreadful, pejorative epithet to castigate me, and not one of them ever protected me from the others.

“Why did I deserve to be treated this way?”

No one stood up for me; not even the very person who stood beside me while our parents died in front of us. What had I done, at 7 years old, to be treated this way? I mean… Yeah I was nosey. Yeah I had a smart mouth. Yeah I got into fights in school. Yeah, I talked back to the teachers. Yeah I was running around, and always into something. But then again… Isn’t that what “little boys” are “supposed” to do? I was a FUCKING child! And I’m sitting here typing this shit on the verge of tears yet again because now, I’M A FUCKING ANGRY ADULT! Did they ever stop to think that I was fighting in school and a smart ass because I was being ridiculed? Did they ever stop to think that I was always into something because I needed some attention? Did they ever stop to think that I was nosey because I was all alone, and even amongst my childhood friends I was still called “faggot”? Did they ever stop to think that I needed someone, anyone, to show me the love that I had lost? Nope! Not one of them considered what obstacles in life I faced as a child. All they knew was that I was their faggot nephew, brother, cousin, grandson! When I got in trouble in school for talking back or fighting, there was never a question of who was to blame. It was always me! And how do I say, “well they call me faggot everyday,” or “they pick on me because I’m smaller than everybody else”? I didn’t even want to acknowledge that word because I hated it so much. I didn’t want to be embarrassed even more by allowing myself to dare utter such a word. I didn’t want them to look at me and say “well, you brought it on yourself, because you’re a FAGGOT!” So instead, I took my punishment. I took the beatings, and the television restrictions, and the suspensions, and even an expulsion. I took it all, because I wasn’t gonna let them see me sweat. NO TEARS!

“I know you’re probably thinking, what’s up with” me? I’ve been crying too long. What did you do to me?”

I fought back! That day when we were in New Jersey, walking back from the store, you called me a faggot, and I called you a BITCH, and I meant it! But I wasn’t gonna tell anybody what you said, because I didn’t wanna face it, so I lied. I told them you called me Mother Fucker, and still got my mouth washed out with soap. No one stood up for me. Then when we got back to DC I got a beating too. But who cares… right? That day, around Christmas time when you were washing dishes, and you told me to leave you alone, I got smart, you called me a faggot, and I said Santa Claus was calling you when he said “ho, ho, ho”, I meant it. But I wasn’t gonna tell anybody what you called me, because I didn’t wanna face it, so I lied. I told them I never said it, and still got my mouth washed out with soap again. Then later that week, I got another beating. That day we were fighting after you told me to leave you alone and get out of “our” room, you called me a faggot, and I fought extra hard that day even though you were a little bigger! I wasn’t sad. I was bitter! That day you were taking me to Camp Schmidt and I left something behind and ran back to get it, I got back in the car, and you told I ran like I faggot, I REMEMBER, and I’ll never forget it. The Christmas in the 5th grade that I didn’t get until February of the following year because I talked back to a teacher, I haven’t forgotten. The time I accidentally locked your keys in the trunk of your car, you told me to figure out how to get them out, and then told me that if I scratched your car, you’d kill me, I won’t forget that. That day you dropped your keys on the sidewalk while we were walking back to the house at Fairfax Village, I ran  back to get them for you, and you told me in that same teaching voice you used with me before when you said “little boys don’t say that”, you said, this time “stop running like a faggot”, I remember that too! That day I got suspended from school in the 7th grade for fighting, you took me back to your apartment and beat me for hours, trying once again to beat the “faggot” out of me, I haven’t forgotten!  That day in the 8th grade after you’d picked me up from school shortly after your son was born, you told me that I better not ever be a faggot, cause you aint no faggot, and my father damn sure wasn’t a faggot, I haven’t forgotten that either! The time, during my junior year of high school when you allowed my therapist to tell you that I needed Paxil for depression and anger management, and then bought it in bulk, I didn’t forget, but I damn sure flushed it all! I didn’t need medication to manage my anger, I needed you to love me. The time in the 6th grade when your husband punched me in my face, blacked my eye, and then threatened to kill me and my sister, I haven’t forgotten. And I’ll never, ever forget how my own uncle went over to talk to him about his attack on me. Huh??What the fuck was there to talk about? My father and even my mother, for that matter, would have killed him. But maybe my uncle and your husband just sat down, talked, and compared notes on beating my ass… huh? The many days I cried myself to sleep, the days I listened to music and sang loud enough to wake the dead because you’d hurt me again, the days I used to change my clothes in the hallway at Karate School so that the other kids wouldn’t see the bruises, and the day I finally showed you all that you couldn’t destroy me. I haven’t forgotten any of them, and I never will.

“I only give you a hard time, cause I can’t go on and pretend like, I haven’t tried to forget this, but I’m much too full of resentment.”

I pressed on through life, making my own way. With a hardened heart is how I dealt with everyone around me. It’s how I deal with people today. My heart has softened in some areas because on the surface I’d moved passed the details of my childhood under your “tutelage”, and the dynamics of some of our relationships have changed. But just as soon as I scratch away at the surface, it comes back, and all of it comes crashing down. I’m grown now! You people can’t do to me what you used to do. These days I don’t let you. I don’t let anyone! I can’t go on pretending like I’ve forgotten about all of it though. It’s just been eating away at me for so long. So now, you’ll have to face it, because I’m tired. I faced all of you, everyday from the time I was 7 years old. I faced the shame, the ridicule, the physical abuse, and more than anything I faced the fact that not one of you were in my corner. Everything someone else said about me, you took as fact. You never fought for me.

“I thought I could forgive you, and I know you’ve changed. As much as I wanna trust you, I know it aint the same.”

I really did think that I had forgiven this, and that I could move on without having to address it with everyone, but there’s no way I’m gonna keep hurting myself and my future by carrying it. We’re cool now; no beefs, no arguments, and we even talk all the time, but this was bound to come out one day. Who knew that it would take two years of these dreams about fighting and arguing with family for me to figure this out. IT WAS YOU! You’re the reason I’m angry. You’re the reason I’m bitter, and guarded. You’re the reason why I push people away. YOU! When you should have been caring for and nurturing me, you abused me. You tarnished my innocence. You beat me down over, and over again. You never protected me, and you knew all along what was being done, but stoic and unaffected, you let it happen to me. YOU! And you never, not one of you, ever apologized.

“I’ll always remember feeling like I was no good… I know you didn’t wanna hurt me, but look what you done-done to me now. “

When I started my first relationship, I remember him telling me, at sixteen, that I was too much to handle sometimes. My doing too much eventually pushed him away. Then came the next one, who dogged me. I guess it was easy because I was sixteen then too, and he was nine years my senior. When number 4 came along, I was still only eighteen, but he was the one who showed me a love that wasn’t easily broken. He was my protector, in a way that none of you ever protected me. He wasn’t comfortable with his sexuality, but he never shunned me. Even if every gesture I made, or word I spoke made him cringe, I never saw shame in his eyes. He protected my physical being, and more importantly, he protected my feelings. He never told me what to say or how to say it. But guess what…? I pushed him away too.  I felt like I was no good for this man who showed me love no matter what. I thought he was tired of me, and maybe he was. I knew I was tired of doing everything I could to push him away, so I finally just left him. You see? Look at what you’ve done to me now. I’ve spent the larger part of my adult life single. I never let anyone get too close because my expectations are too high. Since you never loved me the way you were supposed to, I look for it in people who can’t ever measure up, and they shouldn’t have to.

“I may never understand why…”

I may never understand why I’ve had to endure this, but at least now I know where it came from. At least now I can work on fixing what has been broken. For so long I’ve just been doing what had been done to me, but I can no longer continue to perpetuate that cycle. My greatest defense has been my offense. After years of having my family beat me down I turned it around, and I’m angry. I’m angry because I don’t know what to do with what you’ve forced me to become. I only know that I’m done carrying the anger that you gave me. I didn’t deserve it, and shame on you! But now, I know that I’m going to have to save myself from myself, so that I can heal.

Sing what I bought!


So… I  was at the Black Family Reunion here in DC on Saturday for the FREE concert. J. Moss (Whoever he is), Regina Belle (Grammy Award Winner), Chrisette Michel (Off The Hook), and Musiq Souldchild (WTF!) were all performing. I must say, that overall I enjoyed the show, but when that damn Musiq got on stage I thought I was going to really enjoy his performance, and to my surprise, it was just mediocre. He gets up on stage humming and lullabying and shit, and changing keys, and I’m like WTF! Can you just sing what I bought! I’ve purchased every one of his albums, and for the past 10 years have been a pretty solid fan. While, I’ll continue to support him, and remain a fan, I need to get in touch with his people somehow about him changing shit up on me. His vocals were lazy to a large degree, and then he had the audacity to get on stage and attempt to sing a song from the OnMyRadio album that he recorded with Mary J. Blige. I couldn’t believe that the chick that he chose to sing Mary J’s part was the best that he could have done. That shit was appalling and she sounded horrible. He would have done better singing the whole song his damn self. Then, while he’s up there changing keys, he must have forgotten the key he changed it to and then went back to the original. Talk about confused!  So shortly after that song, he starts singing another song and then stops the shit, just to start it all over again because he said it was too emotional for him. Damnit! If it’s too emotional, don’t sing the shit! Especially if you’re going to stop it, just to start it over.  I didn’t know what to do, so eventually I just got up and left. I had already been there for several hours and I had to go to the bathroom. But, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse he added a fucking go-go beat to his last song. Are you fucking serious Musiq? Really? The next time you do some foolishness like that I’m taking all of the damn CD’s back to the store. Get your lazy, key-changing, cock-eyed ass on that stage, and DAMNIT you better SING WHAT I BOUGHT!

 

In My Native Scribble


In my native scribble I write with complete disregard for those who place themselves above me, because in the end they’re beneath it all.

In my native scribble I speak of the unjust rules that are in place, because they are not there to make me strong, they are there to make me a slave.

In my native scribble I depict my mind wandering free, because in my harsh reality I’m not allowed to speak my peace.

In my native scribble I can describe the pain I feel, and to the opposition, I will never, ever yield.

Through my native scribble my spirit remains alive, and though I may not always be here, my spirit, it will never die.

Through my native scribble I can break down all barriers, and through the words that I write, I’ve become the “Lone Warrior”.

In my native scribble I’ve written a song I love to sing, and because of that song, my freedom, one will certainly ring.

In my native scribble its clear my situation sucks, but if you can’t define any of the words I’ve used, too bad, go and look them up!

Me & You


Infinite possibilities and definite instability.

The beginning of loves trilogy, of love, war, and love again.

A constant struggle to try and make this happen.

But that old ex-factor seems to be a war I just can’t win.

It must be me, its just gotta be.

Something about me pushes you away, while the rest of me force’s you to stay.

Who knew the emotions of the heart could cause so much dismay?

I try to pray, but don’t know what to ask for.

I try to stay, but don’t know if I can take anymore.

Torn in two by the idea of me alone, and the idea of me and you.

So confused, can’t fathom me alone, aloof and askew.

So just tell me what to do, because if you ask me…

I want it to be Me & You!

More To Me


Ferragamo’s on my feet, a Hugo trench on my back,

But please believe it’s not about what I wear.

There’s so much more to me than that.

I’m forthright and direct, genuine and true.

I believe in my abilities, even when belief is not in you.

I’m a man of greatness, my true greatness, not yet achieved.

So why should I care, what anyone else thinks of me?

I’m full of life and love experience and I’m wise too.

I seek a change in a system, so corrupted and askew.

A worldly system, so plagued with discrimination,

is a system that will fall, and fail in recuperation.

Through determination, I’ll do my best to make you aware.

I’m an educated Black Man, America’s worst nightmare!

I Can Love You


I can love you from mountains men can’t climb,

I can love you from places where there’s no space or time.

I can love you in light and darkness just the same,

For my love is so powerful in cannot be tamed or contained.

I can love you underwater, 10,000 feet deep,

I can love you without oxygen, because you’re the air that I breathe.

I can love you up close and a millions miles away,

I love you in the past, future and especially present day.

I can love you so deeply and strong, and with perfect aim,

I love you so much, I can love you passed your pain.

Getting It Started…


At about 3 am on Tuesday, September 7, 2010 marked the beginning of the end of my procrastination with writing. It’s something that I’ve been wanting to do for quite some time, and have finally crossed over. While many of my works of poetry have already been copyrighted through the Library of Congress, there are others that have not. But don’t you people get any ideas about trying to steal my shit! This website allows me to post things without having to publish them through the Library of Congress and I am still ABSOLUTELY entitled to all of my shit! LOL! But anyway… This website and blogging page is brand new, and will be a work in progress for quite some time, so just bear with me. I aint finished yet. All of my life’s ups and downs as I have experienced them are coming out. All of my feeling’s about this same life are coming out too. Take note, that this aint about nobody but me. It’s theraputic finding a way to share. Because if I keep all to myself, the people around me are really gonna think that I’m crazy. I’m no computer genius and I’m trying to add things and post things when I find the time to. So, I’ll be sifting through this website trying to learn it as you all read what I have to say. If you don’t like it, that’s okay. I always do what I wanna do anyway… SO… Grab some tissue, grab a baseball bat, grab your mate, and grab your seats, because my whirlwind of views regarding sex, love, politics, love, money, love, religion, love, God, love, and unconditional love are sure to show you just how I feel, and maybe help you bring out the things that you feel too.

Winning


Seemingly you’re a gentle breeze, and masculine with great ease.

When I see you a weakness comes over my knees, and I find it hard to breathe.

Every Night you’re in my dreams, and everyday you’re all I want to see.

Not sure what you’re doing to me, but don’t stop, I beg of you…PLEASE!

It doesn’t feel right without you beside me each night.

Don’t know what to do about this inevitable plight, but whatever it takes, whatever the cost, for you I will fight.

The secrecy is killing me, and my emotions are filling me, up and up and away, without shame, not playing any games.

I’m losing my mind, waiting for just one sign, praying that you won’t decline.

So I ask, will you be mine?

When you speak to me I tremble.

When you look at me I envision, my life with you, my time with you.

I don’t know what to do.

This battle I cannot lose, it’s winning I choose.

Their Darkest Knight


So filled with despair, I cannot breathe, I have no air.

No chair to take a seat and no bed to rest my head.

Emotionally detached from the world around me.

Trying not to fall victim to its sanctimony.

Fighting to the death, but I have almost nothing left.

But with no white light in sight, I must continue the fight for all that is right, just, and true. No matter how blue my heart is, no matter how few understand it.

So with a raised hand and a clenched fist, I press on, merciless.

I don’t serve this country. I serve the people.

The people who seek freedom, the people who want to be equal.

Defenseless against a system so often contradicted.

Repudiated justice, provoking resentment.

Innumerable witnesses to lies of this system, but no one takes a stand, too afraid to write a sentence. They won’t make waves because they think they’re unaffected.

But the detriment is their own, and totally unexpected.

Cronyism’s cupidity, cryptic stupidity, and interminable lies have taken their toll on me.

Discerning the hatred for which they have no basis, they seek to impeach me, because I make them face it.

Deserving atonement but reluctantly agreeing to its postponement, I try to show patience even in the face of their shamelessness.

But I’ll never give in, or give up on this fight. I’ll take them on alone, even their darkest knight.

She


To me you mean the world.

A beautiful woman, and inside, a talented little girl.

The words you spit soothe my soul, and the melodies you sing capture my world.

Because of you, I know “When It Hurts So Bad” why it feels so good.

And “Nothing Even Matters”, but really I knew it would.

Through my own “Miseducation” I’ve “Lost Ones” and did “That Thing”.

But “Just Like The Water”, I’ve found “Peace of Mind”.

Now “Everything is Everything”.

Finally Over (9-21-2008)


Finally over, finally done. The final chapter, I’ve finally won.

I’ve gotten my heart back; mind, body and soul too.

I’ve finally had my closure and I’m finally over you.

You tried to defend the position you claim.

You tried to confuse me one last time by deflecting the blame.

But this time I was finally able to tell you the truth about how you made me feel.

I was finally able to tell you the truths you never tried to hear.

You said it will never be over, because you’ll never let me go.

You said you’d always be in my head, but there’s something you didn’t know.

I’m stronger and wiser, and can see myself through the tears.

I realized I was strong all along, and after all these years.

So maybe you can admit it now, or somewhere down the line.

But this time it’s finally over, and my feelings for you are no longer blind.

While I’m certain, no one loved you more than me, and no one ever will

I’m finally done, it’s finally over, even if your will won’t yield.

Naive


When I was sixteen, I met a man

3 months went by before our love affair began

Caught all up in his charm

Never thought he’d do me any harm

But a nine-year difference in age made me an easy target to manipulate

I’d never felt this way

So I was easily swayed into the lies he told

I couldn’t imagine what was about to unfold

At the start of it, our love was bliss

Often I’d awake to his morning kiss

I was living in a dream

Until I realized it was all an evil scheme

But now I’m older, and I see

He didn’t really love me

He just controlled me, cause I was naïve

He began to take my thoughts away, replacing them with his own

I’d try to leave, and he’d make me stay saying he couldn’t be alone

He never wanted to be with me, just wanted me under his control

It took me a while to figure it out, but I got wise cause the shit got old

Now I’m on top and he’s down low

Now he’s oblivious to my flow

He may not now, but one day he will know

What comes around will come, and what goes around will go.

Good Luck Chuck


How we meet is how we’ll leave.

Oh God! Why does this have to be?

How can love come so fast, then leave so abruptly?

How can he whisper sweet nothings, and then change his mind so swiftly?

Maybe he just can’t handle what he wants, so what he has is his destiny.

Destined to be with her, instead of with me.

Destined to be complacent, too afraid to take a leap.

He can’t stray away from life’s pedantic rules.

He’s so bogged down with fear; he’s unable to choose.

He’s too indecisive for me, and I can’t wait around and still lose.

So I must move on, unafraid to make my own rules.

I’m falling out of love, slowly and steadily.

I’m changing my mind about him, and I’m almost ready.

I’m leaving him alone, no more emails or telephones.

Got Damn it, I’m grown and not afraid of being on my own.

I’m stepping away from him to offer my life to another to share.

He’s finally out of my system…

No more Good Luck Chuck and truth or dare.

Patience


The only patience I ever knew was the patience it took to be in love with you.

I take my time in everything I do, and I pray every night to ensure my heart is true.

Every thought in my mind is a thought of you.

Thoughts of a relationship, creative and new.

Your presence is bittersweet and often sweeps me off my feet.

Your walk is tantalizing, masculine, and unique.

I love to dream about you at night when I’m asleep.

My mind is always craving you.

My brain it has no peace.

Your way is elusive, passionate and discreet.

My heart, it pounds for you and sometimes skips a beat.

I love you so much and pray you never leave.

Cause baby, you’re a breath of life, and I need to breathe.

No Longer Your Little Secret


I’m here to stay, and here to make my own way. Love it or Leave it, is what I have to say. So long ago I was afraid. Afraid of what I thought you might think of me. Afraid that you would belittle me. Afraid to be me. ME!!!! I know who “Me” is. I know who “I” am, and I know what I wont accept. You don’t have to believe in me, it won’t matter anyway. But you will Listen!!!! You’ll listen because you’re drawn to me, and what I’m saying. You’ll listen because it has substance. You’ll listen because I’m shouting from the Mountain Tops!!!! You’ll listen because you don’t have a choice! I’m not what you expect of me. I wont ever fit into your box. I’m never going to say what you want me to say, or feel what you think I should. YOU DON’T OWN ME!!!! YOU CAN’T CONTROL ME!!!! But you will listen! You can’t hide me, or shut me up! You can’t deny my rights because your life’s messed up. You can’t contain my Spirit, because you didn’t give it to me! So what makes you think you can just take it away? I’m not your secret! I won’t hide behind you or follow your command. I won’t let you walk in front of me when we should be walking hand in hand. If you don’t want me, then you can go. And please don’t ever think you’re “Irreplaceable”! You see, I have the “Gift Of Goodbye”! Ask those from my past and they’ll tell you why. I’m a Free Spirit, not some dirty little secret. I’m a human being, and I have feelings. If you want the truth, you have to live in truth. When you hide who you are, to appease the masses, the only one who get hurt is you. YOU!!! “The Truth, It Needs No Proof!” I don’t owe you a thing. And I don’t have to prove anything. I’ll just say, I’m not 15 anymore. I’m not a little boy. I’m not impressionable, and I’m not your play toy. I’m not still in High School and far too old to still be a fool. I’ll never be what you want me to. I’ll be what God created in me, not what he created in you. So, love it or leave, but show me some respect, cause I’m no longer willing to be your little secret!

Vision of You


A picturesque idea you are

Like an emotional fantasy gone too far

A dream cast from a shooting star

A conspiracy theory with no ending part

You can’t imagine the things I see

A future so bright with you and me

A love so clear and destined to stay

Like a clear sky with no sign of rain

This is my poetic justice I offer today

With all the do rights, no wrongs done in your name

I hope my efforts are not in vain

Or an unjust rhapsody concluded with pain

We’re nearing a future where true feelings come to light

And love is no longer blind it too will have sight

Trust is the key to open the door

A door with no walls so love can live once more

The Love You’re Compared To


The Love you’re compared to was born in 1999, in a place deep down inside with no perception of time. So sublime, that love was all mine. It was written in the stars, I could see the signs. A love that’s forever, we knew it then, but our fate was a break up because our ideals wouldn’t blend. Over the years we stayed in touch, and together we even spent time. We laughed, we cried, and still managed to argue half the time. A deeper connection grew, even through the distance. We met other people, and made even more commitments. Eventually a friendship ensued, one in truth without limitations or fear of what we knew. This love loves me loves me far more than you do.

The Love You’re compared to doesn’t harbor grudges or judge my past. This love doesn’t point any fingers or try to keep any tabs. This love never yields and always remains true. This love loves me far more than you do.

I Love You too, I really do, but not more than I love “The Love You’re Compared To”.

I Remember Daddy


I remember daddy, the man I never wanted to be

I remember daddy, the man who could never be me

No one ever saw the things I would see

And no one could believe the pain that I hold so deep

You see, this man he wasn’t my daddy,

He was just a man who tried to be

I guess it made him feel like a man

To beat me until he bruised my whole body

Beat me while I stood, Watched me as I fell

Beat me on the bed, made me hold on to the rail

He tried to make me a man, Oh well I guess he failed

Cause if a man is what he was

I’d rather take the “L”

I remember daddy, the man I never wanted to be

I remember daddy, the man who could never be me

No one ever saw the things I would see

And no one could believe the pain that I hold so deep

Now I’m all grown up and left his evil clutch

Now I have a voice,

So these days he doesn’t say much

We go on as if there’s no tension there

But the tension’s so thick it clouds the air

I guess now he knows, I’m not scared

But now he must face it

The truth, He will bear!

I’ve waited so long for his respect,

I’m sure I have it now,

Cause now I make him sweat

I remember daddy, the man I never wanted to be

I remember daddy, the man who could never be me

No one ever saw the things I would see

And no one could believe the pain that I hold so deep

Life for me ain’t been no Crystal Stair

But growing up, I learned to grin and bear

I got out alive, and made it this far

I’ve come a long way, with only a few scars

And the life I once lived will always remain

But the life I once lived did not make me insane

I remember daddy, the man I never wanted to be

I remember daddy, the man who could never be me

No one ever saw the things I would see

And no one could believe the pain that I hold so deep

On My Mind


So… Tonight I embark on the journey of writing all of the crazy, funny, sad, depressing, exciting, dangerous, foolish, inspiring, and real thoughts and experiences that have moved me through life and made me the man that I’ve become. What’s weird is that, some days I don’t even know who I’ve become. I’ve been trying to learn why my emotions carry me through life the way they do, and how I can change how I feel if one day I so choose. I’m just here though, writing all of this down for the world to see me, while I learn to understand me. This has been a long time coming, and hopefully I can press on to one day having my own website and domain. Because If I can help anyone understand their situation better, while I’m learning to understand, I’m happy to do it. My constant struggle in life has been my issues with love, so you’ll be reading a whole lot about my experiences in and out of love. You’ll feel the passion in my words, the joy and pain in my heart, and sometimes the confusion in my head. But it’ll all be me. My voice, my strengths, my weaknesses, my spirit, and my heart.

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