At the start of eighth grade, I used to work in a small luncheonette with an old man who most people saw as miserable. His name was Irving.
He was always frustrated and his face was wrinkled. His nose was large. His eyes were squinted and angry. His head was bald on top with gray hair on the sides.
Irving wore black-rimmed eyeglasses, which often dangled from a string that hung around his neck. He always wore Continue reading
Sex Prose
She woke as though she never slept. Throughout the night, her mind continued, urging for the man she wished would fill the empty side of her bed. In a crowd of thousands, it could only be him.
Him, the one who brightened an inner light she had not seen glow for way too long. She woke as though her mind, at last, had come to this conclusion—it could only be him. There could be no one else.
Him, the one she dreamt of.
The man who for so long had been faceless was at last reveled and personified. It was him. He would be the one she allowed herself to dare with and love.
She wiped away the excess Continue reading
Mrs. Kimmel’s Baby Boy
After The Old Man passed and after the downwards spiral of emotions; after the funeral, after the tearful goodbyes, and the strange aftermath of energy that comes when someone passes away, I went back to the farm where I stayed, lived, worked and continued on my path of sobriety. Meanwhile, Continue reading
Thought from the Tattooed Minister
I was sitting in the rear pew of an empty Church. I was not there because I believed or because I was saved; I was there because there was no place left for me to go. I was emotionally emptied and bankrupt. The term hope and faith seemed like a far-off glimmer of something I always wanted, but yet, whatever I wanted always seemed just inches beyond my reach.
The Church itself was quiet and the room was cold. Sunlight came through the stained glass windows and brightened my surroundings. There was nothing dark about the room. There was nothing dark at all—except for the hole inside my spirit.
Outside the sky was wintery blue. There were no clouds in the air or leaves on the trees—except for the evergreens. There was no Continue reading
My Wednesday Morning Motivation 6/3/15
In my case, awareness is something that often comes in time. Either my eyes were closed or my attention was elsewhere, or rationalized—but something happened—something, like the turn of a switch, and then suddenly, the lights came on and my vision was cleared.
In my case, different scenarios led to different awakenings. As I see it, life is separated by different levels of awareness. And I, myself, have gone through different stages along the way.
One morning, I opened my eyes and realized that I had been sleeping in a bed, which was beneath a roof that was over a home that belonged to someone else. I realized that I had been living in a world that never belonged to me.
I looked around at the Continue reading
A Bedtime Story For a Little Boy
Little boy asked, “Daddy, will you tell me a story?”
With all the love in his heart, the father smiled and agreed.
Once upon a time, there was a little baby boy. He was a good boy and everyone loved him. The baby boy had an older brother, but the brother was only older by a few years.
In the mornings, the baby boy would sit in his high chair and his brother would sit near him at the kitchen table. Their mother would make breakfast and the two boys would eat together. They laughed and they sang. The mother would smile happily as she sang along too.
Most mornings, the father would Continue reading
Sober
I used to wear my past like a badge of honor. I used to see “The life,” as cool—like I was some kind of infamous gangster who always managed to slip through the fingers of law and consequences. I saw myself as untouchable.
And the junk—the cocaine habit, the vials of crack, crack pipe, the candle and bent-upwards spoon I used to cook my batches, and the alcohol, or any substance I used to put distance between myself and everyone around me were all tools of the trade.
I was asked if I felt proud of my past.
I am not proud of who I was.
I am only proud of my accomplishments that stemmed from what I used to be.
I admit to myself, to God, and to everyone that I have Continue reading
May 25, 2015 Memorial Day
This morning, I woke to the usual peaceful sound of my community. Since I always wake early, the sounds of my street consist of birds chirping and wind sweeping through the trees.
This morning’s wind appears to be gentle. I like the sound it makes. I like the way birds announce the sunrise, as if to prove they know when the sun is on its way and that today arrives with a new promise.
My home is also quiet. The only noise I hear comes from Continue reading
“the promise”
A little girl wearing a yellow sundress sat barefoot on the edge of a wooden dock at the side of a quiet lake. Her shoulder length hair was the color of honey. Her eyes were brown and specks of light colored freckles scattered across her tiny nose.
She sat next to a little boy. He was the same age as she was. He sat beside her, quietly swinging his legs back and forth above the still water.
Like the girl, the little boy’s Continue reading
junkie verses for the insomniac
Poems For The Still Sick and Suffering
1)
I have seen it.
I have watched brilliant minds martyr their freedom
to solve their concerns and slip into a soft mind
just to feel easy.
I have seen good people lose to the warm vacant whispers of the white sand.
White horse pierced through the membrane of their flesh
and galloped Continue reading
