Posts from the ‘The Storms of Life Will Blow’ Category

I Know Why Too

I always want to call someone when I’ve been drinking. And I don’t even drink like I used to. Tonight I’ve had 3 glasses of Grand Marnier (80 proof) straight. I like Grand Marnier, but I didn’t drink it tonight to write. I drank it tonight because the Shock Top had sediment in it and I wasn’t down for the “beer pulp”. Barf! Tonight I wanted to call my grandmother. I’m lying on the couch, watching the Maya Angelou documentary on Netflix and I wanted to call her. There is a point in the movie where they show a clip of Ms. Angelou on a talk show (not Oprah) answering questions and a young black girl says “I just wanted to ask Maya…”. Whatever her actual question was doesn’t matter. What matters is that Ms. Maya Angelou said, “I’m Ms. Angelou to you”. She went on to say, “I’m 62 years old and Im your mother, auntie, grandmother, and so much more.” The girl understood and remained silent. She realized she was wrong. She realized she’d overstepped by calling this woman by her first name. It made me think of Grammy. I think of her often (though I’d never tell 😉) and I miss my Grammy. I miss her like the sun misses the darkness. I miss her like the ocean misses crashing into land. I miss her like the grandson she raised (but never really cultivated) misses his grandmother who told him that he was her most favorite child, but got shunned after he told her he was gay. I long for her. I long for the love she showed me when she tried understand me. I don’t feel that from her anymore. I don’t talk to her anymore either. She won’t call and neither will I. I miss her because she loved me once. But it was too late. It was too late because she chose to love and protect her son more than she loved the grandson she chose to bring into her home to raise. It was too late because the abuse had already happened. It was also too late because she still won’t own that it did happen and she was complicit. But I love her. I hate that I do sometimes, but even the defiant, grief-stricken, bold man that I am today, loves her. And I weep for her. She isn’t strong enough to own her mistakes, but I think one day soon I’ll be strong enough to forgive her. But me forgiving her is NOT to give me peace. It’s to simply let her know that I see the woman that she is. I see how her plight in this life forces her will to be steadfast even when she knows she’s wrong. I see her. I’m the caged bird that never SUNG his truths. She’s now the reason why I do. Her apathy is the reason why I’m so emboldened to tell OUR truths. It’s clear now that weak people can build strong ones. I learned how to speak up for myself because no one ever did. I learned that from her. I hope in her next life that she’s stronger. I hope in my next life I am too.

In Our Name

I binge watched “Seven Seconds” on Netflix yesterday. Didn’t get to bed until almost 6 a.m. It really broke me down. So many of you have no idea what little black gay boys in your families and communities go through just to be free. And I’m just so tired of white people and their brainwashed, ignorant, self serving black counterparts get to put us into a box and decide how much that box is worth. So many gay black boys have been forced to hide in plain sight. I never could. That’s why they started beating me early. Like Antwon Fisher said, “Who will cry for the little boy”? The boy inside of me and so many other black gay men never saw a tear shed in his name. Stolen childhoods, broken dreams, dreams deferred, stunted growth, and shattered hearts that we were forced to both endure and overcome never let us see or hear or feel a tear shed in our names. We are simply left with the brokenness that the world created for us. We are left with the aftermath of your hatred and disdain that was ignited in you simply because of what was created in us. For me, without justice, there can be no forgiveness. All of you people who exist in this world hell bent on hating people because of what God himself created in us deserve nothing more than the swift hand of justice and it’s fiery aftermath. And you deserve it mostly because you are too much of a coward to simply “say what you did”. Well, I know what you did and I hope you die screaming. And I’ll be sure to ignore your cries for help just like so many of you did me.


When I was a child, more than anything I just wanted to feel safe. I’m an adult now and that’s still what I want more than anything else.

Look at God (and Adderall)

I popped an Adderall (I have a prescription) tonight because I was completely flustered and my mind just wouldn’t be still. I have tons of work to do if I’m gonna find an agent and kick my acting career into full throttle. But just as my mind started to slow down, I began to listen closer to the music playing from my “Heartbreak” playlist on iTunes, and I started to remember where the lyrics took me last. I thought about where I was a couple of years ago and the inception of this playlist. Then I had a fleeting thought about a friend who lived nearby and typed her name into my phone to call her. Her name didn’t come up, but another name that I didn’t recognize did. I touched that name and it opened up a document where I’d typed the name in some note on my phone two years ago. The name that came up is very insignificant so we’ll skip that part. The other notes that came up were notes that I thought I’d lost forever after my purchase of the iPhone 7 back in September. Apparently these notes had been saved in some other format and in some other file and were not readily acccessible like most of the newer notes I now have in my phone. Nonetheless, I’m elated that I found them. Words I’d written while and about going through my recent breakup (the first time), words I’d written about my mother, words I’d written about my hopes and dreams and goals and setbacks, and words I’d written about nothing were all staring back at me now. The latter is what intrigued me the most though, because now those words mean something to me. I can now reflect upon the person that I was two years ago, my state of mind and the state of my heart back then. I’m not that guy anymore though. Not because my character has changed or even my ideals. But I’m no longer that guy because my environment has. The climate of my life has drastically changed and I knew back then I needed it to change.

Then a song by Mint Condition came on. “Unsung”. I love that song. I remembered for a moment that when I first heard the song a few years back it put my mind on my grandmother. Man oh man how I love that woman. If she wasn’t almost a thousand I’d call her up right now so we could talk about what’s on my mind. She’d love to hear it. She’s a good listener that way. Plus I think I intrigue her. I make her think about things in ways she’s never considered before, and she lets me know that. I like being wise for her because she’s always been wise for me. Okay okay, back to this song though. Then I started to think “damn, I hope that if the world never gets to know how great I am that someone will tell my story.” Maybe Mosiah and Myava could get together and write a dope screenplay about my life and all of its tumult. But then I thought, wait, “I’m gonna let the world know how great I am on my own.” That’s why God put me here; To be great. And I’ve got plenty of life left to live. So then I started to sing the song out loud… No one ever wrote the story of your life. And no you never won awards for all your sacrifice. Unselfishly you changed the world within us all. One by one. You were a hero, UNSUNG. Sheesh!!! It’s deep, right? Right! I immediately began to think of my mother, so then I started the song over. When I heard You make our world a much better place… So courageously you stayed when others turned away“, then another part went like Putting your own welfare aside, you took the risk and put it all on the line. You saw the lead, and there you were. Still you never asked for anything back in return. Mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!! That shit right there! It rocked me. And its not like I haven’t heard this song many times. It was just this time, I was like “Look at God”! I need to tell my mother’s story. She gave her life so that my sister and I could live ours. I think I owe it to her to do just that and to tell the story of her very short 31 years on this earth.

Then I remembered, I had already begun to write her story down. I started writing my mother’s story a couple of years ago while up during the wee hours of the morning at work patrolling the mean streets of the Third District in uptown Washington, D.C. And the words I had written almost two years ago, tonight, have been found.

Even If

Even if the rain never stops and the clouds don’t clear and the sun never shines again

Even if the music never plays

I’ll still love you always.

Even if time ceases to exist and there’s never again a space for our love

Even if we never again own the night

I’ll still never forget your heart.

Even if the moon never glows on the dark nights again and the gloom never fades

Even if the road stops going

I’ll still drive on through the darkness.

Even if the days never turn into weeks and months and years

Even if the tears never purge the pain

I’ll still never ignore what they taught me.

Even if the fears and wrongs can never turn into faith and dedication

Even if the love is plagued with condition

I’ll still never lose hope.

Even if the heavens stop abiding and the earth spins off its axis

Even if we can’t go on

I’ll still never lose sight of true love.

Even if we’re hurt and confused and can’t fathom finding our way again

Even if the light stops shining

I’ll still find it.

Even if we never find love again we own our own happiness and we own our plight

Even if it’s the end

I’ll always know this love.

At this moment, in this space, on the day my heart has changed

and my reason to love once more is because now

I know that love will always find a way to begin again.

Respecting The Process

I’ve never been in love like this. I knew I was capable. I knew it could happen. I just didn’t know that it would be with you. I guess one never knows. What I do know is that I’ve opened my once hardened heart in an effort to get you to understand all of me. I’m damaged goods, but goods nonetheless, and I’m a good man. I love God and thank him for placing you here in my life at this time. I needed to experience a love that could capture my soul. This love has done just that. It has lifted me up, torn me down, made me cry, made me feel, and now it’s making me understand the process. I’ve said this many times before… Life teaches us lessons sometimes and sometimes it has to reteach lessons we’ve already learned or ought to have learned. Maybe it’s because I haven’t loved or been in love for so long that I needed this struggle. I need this crucible to help me see what I’m made of and who I’ve become thus far. And maybe you had no idea that you’d be loving a guy like me either. Maybe you had no idea you’d ever fall for a man like me. Maybe you had no idea that we’d be here in this moment at this time loving and learning lessons we’ve never learned or ones that we had forgotten. But I love you for loving me first. I cherish your love, admiration, and adoration for me. I needed it right at a time when I had no direction. I needed it to shake me up and flip me over and force me to realize that I can’t and don’t want to live without love. And now, this love, your love, God’s love is teaching me (yet again) to be patient and to respect the process. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and my expectation of simplicity in a complicated situation is unrealistic and unfair. But understand this, I get it now. I can now fathom true love without condition. I can fathom having a love and relationship and future with someone who continues to prove their unrelenting dedication to me, to love, and to what we have begun build. So now, I’m gonna respect the process; Our process. We don’t operate the same way or think alike or even grasp the same concepts at the same time, but that’s all apart of the process. So each day, each week, each month that passes by I promise that I will make every effort to continue to realize, understand, heed, and respect the process.

Their History Of Violence, NOT OURS! 

LOOK!!! I’m sick of BLACK people hating on #Blacklivesmatter. If you don’t agree with the movement, don’t fucking support it. But know this, it’s not just about blacks vs. the police. It’s about blacks vs. a system that was designed to make them fail. It’s about the fact that the black community has been raped, pillaged, and discriminated against for almost 500 years AND THE SHIT IS STILL HAPPENING! The successful (or seemingly successful) black folks have the luxury of condemning others because they think “they made it”! You’re fucking fools!! Most of you idiots can’t see the forest for the trees. You think that if you’re silent and don’t offend your non-black counterparts (particularly the white ones) that you’ll be able to move through this world more easily. Fuck that and FUCK YOU cowards! Yes, black folks commit violent crimes against each other, but at the same rate as their white, Hispanic, Asian, and “other” counterparts. Check the statistics! There can be NO SUCH THING as “black on black crime” without first acknowledging that crimes are more likely to occur within ones own community and “White on White crime” statistically exists at the same level, but they own the fucking media! Rupert Murdoch just bought National Geographic; another fucking media company! Who noticed that? So rather than bring your own people down, which has already been done through slavery, housing discrimination (which in my opinion is just as bad), and discrimination through the media, learn what the fuck you’re talking about! WE ARE NOT CRIMINALS! We’re just a people at our wits end! And even when we try to come up, we’re just manipulated by others to bring our own community back down. It’s not the police that the followers of #blacklivesmatter hate, it’s the fucking system that creates the laws that give police officers the authority, autonomy, resources, and discretion to violate the rights of those they sometimes arbitrarily dislike, disagree with, or don’t understand. And that’s fucked up! I’m not a supporter of the #blacklivesmatter movement because I don’t agree with and/or completely understand its structure and organization, but I see the necessity in it, even if it’s a necessary evil. There is NO group of people in this country that has less of a right to talk to black people about civility than white folks. They beat us, rape us, worked our fingers to the bone, belittled us, taught us false doctrines, manipulated us, failed to educate us, and now they want to pacify us while they use different means to do it all over again. Blacks folks do fucked up shit, and we do it to each other, but the same goes for all races, but no race (including our own) has ever done more fucked up shit to black folks than white folks. So keep that in mind the next time you wanna say how violent blacks are or how destructive we can be or how we need to do better for ourselves because there ain’t a single black person on this feed who hasn’t reaped the negative repercussions of the violence bestowed upon our ancestors by whites in America. That history of violence ALL belongs to them.

%d bloggers like this: