The summer is gone
and it’s been a minute
since the warmth from the sun
was enough to bronze the skin
I know . . .
My feelings for the seaside moments
will be with me until the day that I die.
I’m sure.
Of course, I’m sure.
At the same time,
if it were my choice
people like you and I would never die
because the truth is –
I could live forever
wherever the tides come in
and out
and allow me to forget
that you and I were once
forgotten.
Or to be like it was said to me
long ago, at school I believe
and about the Pacific –
The sea with no memory,
and to me
I say that our memory
does us a disservice
especially
when we remember.
Her serpents were sent by a lesser God
and so,
her demons chose not to assume responsibility
for the damage they had caused
and then, collectively
her enemies saw no reason to pay restitution
for the acts of their nature.
This is what happened
and yes, this is what took her away from who she is
and altered who she will be.
However,
if any of this is up to me
or if I were given the power of influence
then I would like to change
who she was
and who she will be
because who she was is beautiful
and who she will be
is even more beautiful
because, if I were given the power of influence
then it would be as if our past
had never happened.
This is me,
so help me God.
I searched and I tried.
I cried as well
like grown men often do
when they realized
how much they lost
and so like many other
I suppose that I forgot
what it feels like
to be touched
or teased.
And yes, I tease.
yes, of course, I do.
I see the journey as something
which is equally as valuable
as the destination.
One cannot be without the other
because as we live we grow
and as we grow,
we come to know that all that happened
has happened for a reason.
And so,
give me a reason, Lord.
I’m begging for a change.
I’m begging for the feel of warmth
that only comes from one hand
and one love, one life, and one heart,
which is outside of my own
Tease?
Me?
Yes, of course I do
because again
the journey and the destination
are both important to me
So is she, to be exact.
Therefore, the forelay we mention
when the lights are low
should be ongoing and forever
and thus,
I say love like this is something
that is ever-reminding us
that being together means
that we are together
and even the simple interactions
are intimate, like a kiss
because when it comes to you
there is no taboo
nor is there anything that I would not try
three times, or maybe I would try anything
more than three times,
just in case
I did it wrong
the first time.
I look at the sky and clear my throat.
The horizon is beautiful
this morning
and the colors of dawn
are enough to trigger my
introspective side.
I see . . .
The line between me and our social injustices
have proven
time and again,
that above all,
there will always be pods and tribes
and cliques and groups
and there will always be those
who govern their politics
which coincide with their agendas
so they can abide
with their different versions of honesty.
it is often obvious to compare
people to parrots because
rather than be original
they parrot their responses.
It’s amazing how this works
because I see people parrot
their ideas of originality
which are not so original,
and therefore
no need to be creative
or inventive anymore.
We live in a world of copy and paste. . .
I see too much of this,
but yet, I am me
and this is all subjective to me
because I have seen plagiarism
at its best
Understand?
My attention has been drawn to
a fine young man
and
he, as he is,
young and untested
He is above all,
a young man before manhood
yet, the revolving door
of his unspoken disappointments
is what causes him to face
the bigger questions about manhood,
and so he asks . . .
“who is my father and
what does he do?”
No boy should have to ask themselves
these questions,
at least,
not like this.
Then of course, he is as he is
and so,
young or not
the young man is forced to face
the classrooms of his circumstances
and wonder to himself, under his breath,
“why has my father chosen
to be the way he is?”
So much for an untainted youth.
So, the young man asks these things
because he has to ask this himself
because through the eyes of a young mind
Fatherhood is supposedly equal manhood
and yet, your father is supposed to be your first teacher
or hero. and yet,
he has to ask himself
who is my father
and what does he do?
Thank God, for her,
Mother Directional
because Father Exceptional
is not so exceptional;
at least, not when he excuses
and uses his lies as truth
so this way, nothing is his fault
and his father roams free
without the need
to fess up
or be a man.
And she?
She is the young man’s version of Motherhood
and so, her maternal magic
shows her son
that his Mother is more of a man
than his father could ever be.
I am born too
therefore, I know what it means
to be lied to
or pushed out
or alienated and forgotten; therefore,
I look at this
with different eyes.
Alas, I a, sure
we all ask ourselves,
who is my father and what does he do?
And yes,
why has he chosen to be the way he is
(or was)
and why do we see what we don’t like
and yet, why do we follow such poor examples?
We do this
consecutively, and continuously,
and without disappointment
because this is how codependency lives.
We do things, even if we hate what we do
which is confusing to me
because I thought a father’s love
is supposed to be “a father’s love,”
and so,
my love and my heart go unmentioned because,
of course, I am just a figure,
or a father in name only.
I am not real
and yet I am not too far from a mutual reality
which makes us realize
that we are more relatable
than we think.
Then I think . . .
. . . I think about the results
of divorce
and I say something
under my breath –
Yell at that girl one more time
I say to myself
and then I say
Do it again
and I will end you in ways
that even the devil
would find horrendous.
I see this place I have built as small
but as small as this is
I see this place as my own; therefore,
my heart is my land
and my land is my heart.
This is all that I have
which I admit –
my land has seen better days
and harder times, or more;
I swear that heartbreak seems
as if my land has been stormed,
like the beaches at Normandy.
I have been bombed by the enemies
from another state, who planted their flag
and laid their tracks
embedded in the sands of my hourglass
because, behold;
they are determined to take all that I have
away from me.
I do not believe that my surrender
falls under the conditions
of the Geneve convention.
No
And to me, this means, yes,
I have surrendered
more than once
but I have come to decision
and going further than before
I reject the terms or the conditions
of my previous surrender, and so therefore,
I declare war.
Once I regain my strength and
and my composure
and once I deal with the
mild to moderate insanities
or learn to deal with the different voices
in my head;
I swear, I’m coming back
with a vengeance.
But then gain
I am done with revenge.
It is not beyond my wildest dreams
to want peace
or to seek peace
with all my heart.
It is not beyond me
to realize that I have participated
and I’ve played into unnecessary arguments.
Furthermore, I am agreeing and recognizing
that no, there are no victims
only volunteers
and seeing this
allows me to be accountable for my involvement
in unnecessary battles
that I volunteered for.
I see no reason to volunteer
any longer
nor shall I entertain the unnecessary fights
by needlessly feeding the machines
tat contribute to my own self-destruction.
I sit
I read.
I live and I learn.
I walk and I seldom run
but this is more because age has taught me
to take my time.
I go and I get lost
but of course,
I find myself as always
and then I lose myself again
at the same time; and so,
I suppose, this is how we learn
In time,
I realize there will be a time
when the dust can settle
and no,
no enemy can hold on forever
because, of course,
no one can kill me forever
and I mean this both figuratively
and literally
But shh,
don’t tell my enemies about this
please –
because I am depending on them
to waste their energy
so that their hate can fade
and the sky can change
and maybe one day
we might find ourselves
on the other side of our scuffles
I’d like to see this
enough so that yes
we can let bygones be bygones
and so on . . .
I swear –
this girl . . .
She has too many diamonds in her eyes
to not know that she could never be poor.
She is far from poor and yet
I see her as someone as unaware
of how rich she is.
Yet, this is how I see her
and this and my opinion and my pocket change
is not enough
to take the E train from World Trade
to 34th Street, Pennsylvania Station.
I need to redirect myself.
I have to say –
“He” is not my enemy
nor should I see him
as my nemesis
but nevertheless,
“He” is someone I see as the embodiment
of my resentment,
and I mean this
figuratively
Of course.
I see him
as a manifestation of what I dislike most
about myself.
I was told
years ago—
If you spot it, you got it
which means that we often resent those
who remind us
of our weaker forms
or our regrettable versions
of self and the yesterdays
that refuse to go away.
I don’t want to be weak
and nor Do I want to be meek
even though it is said
“Blessed are the meek
for they shall inherit the Earth.”
But I wonder.
I am told the first will be last and the last
will be first,
at least,
this is what I was told
from The Book of Matthew
I suppose my question is
what does this mean to me
or the man in the middle?
How does this change me
or positionally
how does this improve my life?
I lived as though I died
and resurrected myself
more times than I could figure.
I know the sun has not moved.
No, I know that this is a seasonal thing
meaning, this is winter;
meaning, this only my side of the hemisphere
tilting away from the sun.
And I know it’s cold
and I know the sun can be bright
on winter days too
but the warmth is frequently missing
unless, of course
it comes from within.
I am waiting though;
still, despite the times
when I swore that I would never wait
for love
or for anyone again.
I swore that I would never dare
or love so deeply
or submit
and be humbled like this
or feel so strongly to the point
where I could be hurt
or otherwise
destroyed.
But life can change
and so can I
I am, humbled
and waiting, that is
for you
of course
because no one feels the way you feel
to me.
I love to dream about
the look of your toes in the sand,
and I love when the sun is high
and hot on your skin.
Your body is tanned
glistening,
like the surface of the ocean
balancing the reflections of sunlight,
The waves are kind
which of course, —I dream of taking you
shoulder deep
so no one can see what we do
below,
as in under the surface
when I pull you close
and enter you –
(without anyone seeing)
It has been a minute
but what’s the difference?
It seems as if I have waited lifetimes
for a moment like this
with you
and so long as I have you
then I have you
which means that all of this
was worth the wait
and more. . .
I wonder what it would be like
to wade in the waters of Fiji
but of course,
the waters there are crystal clear
so, we’d have to find someplace remote
and quiet
so I can pull you in,
shoulder deep
and enter you
The Written Addiction 