My burning candles have me pouring my brand of broken Bordeaux into three glasses...
The first glass looks and feels smooth, the ridges groove as tiny hands slowly and gently stroke. Rhythmic, hypnotic and still. Side by side...right there. The pleasures...steady moist and ready. Take it slow....nice and slow. No need for steel since my fingers feel everything sweet. Every ridge formed by the Gods themselves that man can see their handiwork through fingers and palm. The breathing is low...until
My second glass gives off a beautiful reflection of pain...yet not the kind you think. The pain of need to feed on something real. The pain of desire to be desired by substance. The loving to be loved as art is loved...with passion and flame. The wanting to be wanted...beyond it's form. Beyond it's impeccable beauty and grace...in it and with it...wanted for more...wanted...for real
My third glass is lovely, heady and of a different kind. It looks like me...but it's not. For many, too heavy to lift. For me...easy. I will sit and watch it from a distance as none could lift it. To gift it doesn't take much...it takes wine...old wine that shuts off the mind and takes you into places you've never been before. The places where traces of thought can't stop you from it's magic...it's opening of doorways none have ever cared enough to open before.
Bordeaux ;-)
***Original en Espanol***
Mis velas me han vaciado mi marca de Bordeaux roto en tres copas...
Mi primera copa se ve y se siente suave, las crestas surco como pequeñas manos lenta y suavemente sobandome. Rítmica, hipnótica y sigue. Uno al lado del otro...ahí mismo. Los placeres...constante húmedo y listo. Tome las cosas con calma....agradable...lento. No hay necesidad de acero ya que mis dedos sienten todo lo dulce. Cada cresta formada por Dios para que el hombre pueda ver su obra a través de los dedos y la palma. La respiración es baja...hasta que
Mi segunda copa emite un bello reflejo de dolor...pero no del tipo que usted piensa. El dolor de la necesidad de alimentar en algo real. El dolor del deseo de ser deseada por la sustancia. El amor al ser amado como se ama el arte...con pasión y fuego. El deseo de ser querido...más allá de su forma. Más allá de su impecable belleza y gracia...en ella y con ella...deseada...deseada para más...en verdad
Mi tercera copa es hermosa, fuerte y de otro tipo. Se parece a mí...pero no lo es. Para muchos, demasiado pesada para levantarla. Para mí...fácil. Me sentaré y admire desde la distancia, ya que ninguno podía levantarla. Para regalarle no cuesta mucho...solamente vino...vino viejo que cierra la mente y te lleva a lugares que nunca has estado antes. Los lugares donde las huellas del pensamiento no puede impedir su magia...es la apertura de las puertas nadie se preocupó lo suficiente para abrir antes.
The moonlit mist blankets his soul, stripping his arms of strength but still he rides her clear mist finding his love where beauty's light meets the earth. A light that has been graced to shine upon her as she looks up in admiration towards such nightly calls of grace.
His heart of flesh beats fluttered. Blessed to make the trip and graced to be able to touch her just enough to leave him pining for texture his skin has yet to describe outside of the ethereal.
For by the moon...he sees as angels do. Watching with outstretched wings that bear heavy burdens longing to be set adrift upon a sea dressed of lightly pressed sunrisen kisses. That all should be made new by the sun.
Wings that cry on their own that steady his height to gaze...to admire...and to envy those that get to freely touch this work of earthen art.
So graced by God to watch her gaze upon the very moon that drew him. So cursed by time with not enough of her to satiate...but just enough of her smile to quench the moments thirst for beauty.
"I'm on the front line. Don't worry I'll be fine. The story is just beginning. I say goodbye to my weakness, so long to the regret and now I see the world through diamond eyes..."
A very long time ago I had a woman I was somewhat interested in read just a few of my blog posts before getting to know me any further. As an intuitive myself, I could tell she was the same and I was curious as to what she would "see". Her response?
"You are a poet and a lover...but not by choice"
Yeah...she shot me with that. As interested as she was, she decided to walk away and remain cordial. That is until...we just stopped communicating altogether. Years later, I can attest to a thing that has always frustrated the hell out of me...she may have been right. Folks, I know my strengths and can name them without feeling braggadocious in the slightest. If you think me "too full of myself" then you really don't know a thing about me and maybe even less about yourself. I'd classify you as one that engages in false humility to somehow virtue signal your own humility which is in fact a spectacle of masked pride. It's easy to talk about your vices because "oh how humble he or she must be!!" but talking about your strengths is off limits because that shows "pride"? If that's you stop reading...this place ain't for you. Moving on...
So in what way was this beautiful intuitive right? Well the truth is, I didn't grow up to be a poet...but I am because I seek the purest expression available to man. As for the lover in me? He is simply an extension of the poet that sharpened skill through study to please the one he loved. Truth is...I grew up to be a "warrior". I grew up learning how to survive and thrive among the dregs of every "class". From the politically crooked to the serial murderer. I "read" where the dangers are to navigate them like I know them from memory. I've trained my body for years the same way I've trained my spirit...like I've been getting ready for a battle that can break out at any moment. Feeling like I'm always "ready" without the tension associated to that kind of mindset. Never really understanding why. Just knowing that myself and those with me would always be alright. That God had a purpose in this "training" of sorts. You know, it's a hard thing to explain but if I'm honest...it's how I feel most of the time.
My escape? Easy...sexy...cool. Where I can whisk away a lover for a spell of intimacy. Rockin the heart with a word that seeps out like a whisper dipped in "magic". The kind of magic you can't get from anyone else but me. It's all mine...tailored to the soul it's been given to. Tailored to reach deep into their heart because I took the time needed to map out every beautiful intersection and corner. To be able to go deeper into any and every secret place that no piece of flesh could possibly reach. That is the part of me that grew from seeking the heart of God and the truth is...God Himself has blessed me in this.
Yet after this moment, however long it need last...I get back in line as needed. Therein lies the issue with those that get close. Oh come, love the poet! Adore the lover...but the warrior? He's about as boring as watching paint dry. I can see most picturing an open shirt, long hair in the wind, a sword and a horse...nope. This warrior sits at watch. He's meticulous, precise and will wait as long as he must to prevail against his enemy. Employing all manner of warfare that is applicable.. Physical, mental, emotional and most of all...spiritual. Exhausted...tired...but never beaten. Where then does that leave those that professed their undying love for him? Heh...where do you think? They show up in pretty nighties and wonder why he seems aloof. They get frustrated, walk away, try a few others and come back to find him in the same spot. Why? It's pretty simple...he's in a foxhole they can't see and he'll be damned before he becomes the selfish prick that asks them to "wait" because the fact is...this is his life. Besides, he doesn't have the right to ask such a thing. With someone like him...they come to learn that they must take what they can get or nothing at all. Sucks...but it's true...
Those that know me understand that I have souls in my life that I am bound to fight for and that will never change. So long as that is the case...I can't change either. The latest battle is the hardest I've faced to date and I intend to see it through no matter how long it takes. I see it as an honor to fight for those I love and those that don't? Sorry you feel that way but you best move on. Yet understand this: This is not a complaint about some supposed plight but a simple footnote of clarification to a recent realization. So yeah...it's a good thing. Anytime you get to understand yourself better, you come to understand those around you better as well.
So I will admit to feeling lonely and abandoned in my foxhole. Wondering where all those that professed so much went after they saw the beginnings of one of my battles. When they saw the daily talks slow. When the poetry became dark. When the pining turned into an unattended frustration. When pics went unreciprocated. I actually felt like they bailed to "pastures less green" because "the muscular poet" wasn't always there flexing his "stuff" at their beck and call. Funny how that happens huh? Yeah...funny. That is until I decided to walk out of the pity party I threw for myself. All of that might've been true of them but knowing how special they are...I would've advised them to do just as they did. You know how you can usually tell if a person is in pain? How they usually grimace or say "ouch"? Well...I do neither. To them, I must've seemed like I just didn't care anymore because battles one wants to win require the need to drown out all other things. Even that which you want the most takes a back seat when you decide to take on a battle that could determine a life or death outcome. I do not blame them but instead, I thank God I had the time with them I was able to have. Most people don't even get that so yeah...I will always consider myself more than blessed.
Folks...it's easy to love a poet and it's even easier to succumb to a lover. It takes years to learn how to love a warrior. I just ain't got that kind of time...
The crow has struck the night between the billowed clouds that separate the light shining from the fullest moon. Entreating the king with every manner of vessel adorned of beauty, silk and shine. From old to new they "coo" at his status, taunting him at every plane. Light eyes and smooth thighs whisper death in the shadows disguised as life and living. Knowing the measure of all giftings gifted and all shiftings shifted groaned empty in his soul for epiphanies reason to purpose in him what is now deemed "more"...
For beautiful is the truest moon that all the world does admire. That all should marvel at it's acumen for love and lust in the simplest of terms yet it does not boast in such a thing. It does not relish in the accolades given nor does it rest it's purpose or identity in the power it has over countless hearts that beat in the night. Instead, it relishes in it's purpose. That it should be a light in the dark as all other effects are not in it's power but instead rest in the hearts of those it inadvertently entreats. If it's glory does not boast or find it's pride in such things then why should the king or any other do any less?
And so it went that the crow has struck the night between the billowed clouds that separate the light shining from the fullest moon. The king has ordered death to the crow. Many came...few remain. For they came bearing gifts of light eyes, smooth thighs and subtle lies. Vanity is to receive them all as if it was his power to abuse but as it is so of the beauty of purposed creation so it shall be with him. Entreat him with honor, grace and words that lace around his heart. For to noose either neck for the sake of control is akin to using bit and bridle used on animals needing taming and not for kings that rest in such awareness. Entreat him with beauty's hold adorned by the unseen face that shines beneath the bone and the heart that bleeds for moments of purity that seek the eternal experience deemed a fool's love aimed at reckless abandon. The king and the fool speak tonight. Watching and waiting...for more...
The king looks out over his balcony into the clear night sky as Clair De Lune plays ever so softly in the backdrop of his room. Gazing into the glory of the fullest moon he sighs as he can still find the silhouette of her pretty face. He finds comfort in this...
What an honor it is to be called "Father". I've heard that title attributed to so many different roles but being one myself I can tell you that it should be exclusive. Exclusive to men that are willing to sacrifice all they are for the sake of their children..."for greater love has no man than this".
I am proud to say that my father is such a man. A man with honor and integrity that comes at you in blunt truth no one could deny. Not flashy...but real. Even in weakness and error you could still see it...a prime example of what a husband and father should be. Yes, those that know him, including myself, can attest to the fact that he made mistakes but the seed from which those errors came had nothing to do with malice. Instead, they all came from his "humanity". Something else he taught me all about from both his failure and most importantly...his restoration. Folks, my father never gave up on me and when it was my turn to do the same for him...his example guided my way. He never once threw up his hands as if to say "he'll never amount to anything" when it came to me in all my errors and that, among many other attributes, stays with me to this day. He always knew what I was capable of and encouraged me every step of the way without fail even when I offered him reason to doubt. Yet in all this grace I could speak on, the one thing that moved me the most was something that my mother had shared with me. I was very young and living with my mother at the time as my parents were divorced. My father had a drinking habit back then but it was never as severe as others I've known. She told me that several times in a state of drunkenness, he would climb the fire escape and look through the window just to make sure I was ok...just so he could see me. That mi gente...told me a lot. That told me that I was on his mind and more so...on his heart. Nobody saw it but her so no, this was no show. It was a man finding his peace in a glimpse of the most beautiful thing he ever created...me.
You see and that's just it. My father raised me with one thing in mind and I am carrying on the same in my children as best as I can today. Instilling the truth about faith, honor, integrity and love. I want my boys to have as their forefront a pure heart where honor and integrity are concerned. Actions and good deeds mean nothing if the seed from which they come is malicious and/or selfish. Good grades, a good job...doesn't mean a thing if you treat people like garbage. I hear parents say that "so long as you do good in school, you'll get to have...x y or z". That might be an incentive but parents sometimes forget to prioritize the heart of their children towards character. I truly thank God for my father's wisdom in this. He stressed education yes, but stressed even more the side of simply "being a good man". So everyday, my prayer for my children is that they put character first above and beyond all else. So far, I'm very proud to say that I see this in them already. Even when they mess up or fall short of their potential...I see the struggle of conscience weighing heavy on their heart. Almost always coming to a resolution that would satiate the desire to do "the right thing". In this...I am a very grateful man.
I just pray that I can continue to live up to the example given me and if that means my children are to wind up being a better man than I ever was...or will be...then I know I did my job.
We live, we breathe, we love, we leave. We laugh, we cry, we rinse till dry. Only to repeat these glorious movements all over again. What's great is that we're constantly cycling towards something greater. Each cycle adding more to us than the last. Where new breath clears out the toxins of the old. Where love is fiercer and pain runs deeper. Where those we love become dearer to us as we begin to see their true value. Where we laugh neath tears of joy while letting go of all that hindered us at every rinse. All to live again with newer life. Movements that break us to make us. Stay aware...don't miss them or you will risk missing out on all they have to offer...
Never be dismayed. Never stop believing you will meet that place made just for you. That place independent of anything or anyone you carry. That place you will share with those dearest to you. I am finding mine at every cycle and I pray in earnest you find yours. We'll share in them together one day.
Always remember: Two steps forward, one step back...is still one step forward. Much love...
I was broken from a young age, Taking my soul into the masses, Write down my poems for the few
That looked at me took to me, shook to me, feeling me..."
Of all the things I could write about tonight this little revelatory piece of dialogue seems best to me. It is from 1962's "Lawrence Of Arabia" starring the great Peter O' Toole. I will admit to never having seen this great classic but this one particular scene was rehearsed by the android "David" in 2012's "Prometheus". A prequel of sorts to the classic "Alien". You see David was attempting to become more human so he took to studying movies and that one scene stood out as something he would never come to truly understand.
Potter: [trying to copy Lawrence's snuffing a match with his fingers] Oooh! It damn well hurts.
Lawrence: Certainly it hurts.
Potter: Well, what's the trick, then?
Lawrence: The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts.
As an android, he had no sensation of pain so he could never truly understand the truth at the core of human endurance and by extension...human strength. Study those lines and understand the "greats" you've encountered and what they've had to endure. How they can take struggle, never seeming to flinch at loss or feel the sting of the punch. As onlookers, we think them invulnerable to pain when the truth is far more elementary than some imbued super power. The truth is they feel it all. They experience grief, loss, fear and doubt just like anyone else. The difference is found in their experience. Either in the expectation of what awaits or in the fact that this pain has become so commonplace that it is no longer met with surprise. They no longer "mind" the pain within the struggle. It no longer slows them down because as it has in so many times past...resolved itself over time. They come to understand that the cliche is more than that...it is a truism. Where there is life, there is in fact...always tomorrow...
For anything a man will face or have to endure, so long as there is life...there is always the opportunity to keep pushing. The very breath we breathe is reason enough to keep living. There is a reason why I overuse the phrase "I ain't done yet"...I'm still alive. Death, loss, pain, grief and failures are only setbacks to the soul that has his eyes fixed on the journey. I never forget and I always forgive...learning that anything can and will happen along the way. So what then is the "trick" to invulnerability? Amongst all great expectation...expect the setback, the delay & the pain. You won't mind it so much when you come to realize an undeniable universal truth...that such things are commonplace for an ordinary life on it's way to becoming extraordinary. Much love...
PS: My house still stands as there will never be the need to burn it down ;-)
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love...and be loved in return..."
Jack was as a young poet. A boy with a pure heart that wandered the country side in search of his one true love. He came across a beautiful young maiden that drew his attention by her ocean blue eyes and golden hair. She had a soft demeanor replete with all manner of tenderness to her. Needless to say, he fell in love quickly with this beautiful angel. He did everything for her. Going out of his way in every sense to accommodate her needs and he was more than happy to do so. At times when he couldn't fulfill a request, she would cry and this would move him to do even more than he had because he could not stand to see her in pain. After some time, he began to hear whispers about her and others that he would simply brush off. He even began to hear about her ability to manipulate by easily turning on tears but he would not believe it. His love for her for was unbending, it had blinded him to any suspicion. One day, he was in an adjacent room when he overheard her arguing with her father. As was her way, she began to cry and as he was about to enter the room to comfort her, her father left and the tears all of a sudden stopped. She didn't know that Jack had seen it and as for Jack...he was crushed to his very soul. He began to search out the whispers and found them all true. With every new truth uncovered, this uncompromising love began to die within him. Not just for her...but for love itself. By the time he came to say goodbye, Jack had become cynical to all the loves that came after. This young man filled with passion for hope had now become a man that hoped to find passion again but was only met by those with the same cynicism he was doing his best to rid himself of...
Jill was a beautiful young maiden. Filled with a well of love, hope, dreams and aspirations. Beautiful in every way. With a smile that could melt the hardest heart. One day as she was working at the marketplace, a handsome young man approached her and she became enamored by his charm and wit. He would visit her daily and soon she would fall in love with him. She knew little about him, but she believed in the purity of love. She believed that he loved her and that was all that was needed. He promised her the world and soon, they would move into his home up in the hills. He told her they would soon be married after he had gotten all his affairs in order and the first few months, she could only describe as "heaven". As time went on, still unmarried, his demeanor went from charming to forceful. He would at times purposefully make her feel ugly when other men would look at her and as for her dreams of going on to university, he would cry to her saying that she didn't love him if she went away. All so he could keep her in his home. He would even give her more duties to perform so she had very little time for socializing and after awhile, the only soul she would ever see was him. She lost all interest in taking care of herself and all dreams she had were soon lost in him as well. She didn't mind it of course. After all...she loved him. One day, she decided to finish her duties early and go off to the marketplace to see some friends and what she found crushed her to her very soul. She saw him in an embrace with another young maiden she had been friends with in times past and she ran home crying. When he had arrived, she confronted him about what she saw and he became enraged beating her into submission. With every blow he threw, her love felt every hit. Dying...with every strike to her frail form. Not just for him...but for love itself. She left the next day and every new love that came after...was met with suspicion. This young woman filled with passion for hope had now become a woman that hoped to find passion again but was only met by those with the same suspicion she was doing her best to rid herself of...
and thus began the extinction of "true love"
Oh my beautiful friends...at one time or another, in one form or another, every one of us has been a "Jack" or a "Jill". Wounded animals are we that dared to love as it was meant to be in a callous world. We carry those wounds into other relationships. Our instinctive defense mechanisms kick in, inadvertently wounding others so that the cycle continues until love exists as it does today. A cheap imitation of itself. Just another Checkers match for supremacy so that we will never be wounded again. Causing "love" to become nothing but a curse word. An emotion that needs changing or tweaking. Redefined as less than itself simply so that we can keep having companionship without risking a thing. How do we end this? How do we give "true love" it's worthy breath again? I can only offer my opinion from my experience and I will tell you that the first thing that needs to happen is a little something called "healing". Allow your wounds to heal before you enter into anything else. Let those wounds become worthy scars. Find your lesson in each scar and learn where you went wrong. Study your choices. Study yourself until every scar carries a lesson. Forgive those that did you wrong without making excuses for them because making excuses for them will only carry you back to the same garbage you just left. Back to them or the same garbage found in others. In time, your scars will reveal to you that love had nothing to do with their lack of character and that at least now, you have a roadmap to what you will accept and what you will not. All without pain, fear or bitterness, each new soul will be judged on it's own merit based on all the understanding your scars have afforded you. Soon, true love will not be a thing to be feared...but something you will pine for in the realms of possibility. Heal up, choose right, love strong and in the end...you will break your cycle.
As for me? I proudly carry many scars with me. Some wounds I can say have not fully healed but they are healing even at this writing. With every brutal look I take through inspection and introspection. With every consequential thought I entertain I make myself better. I forgive all that have done me wrong but because I have learned from their wrong, I also know I can only go so far with them and they know this because the boundaries are made plain by me. As for love? I only know it as true love. I don't fear it or any pain that may come while I'm in the throws of it. Every second I have with it affords me an unparalleled freedom to exist for lasting purpose. It is pure and wonderful and beautifully fleeting at times but it is just as powerful today as it ever was. It abides in the pure at heart and in those that have been able to carry scars without the bitterness of pain. It even abides in those that fear it because at least they give it due diligence enough to respect it's power. So, even as endangered as it is, I will always welcome it. As a poet and a lover of passion...I have no choice ;-)
"A black rose for one, a bouquet for a few and a single orchid for mi..."
You have read me write about the beauty of woman. Such outer beauty that can rival the greatest works of art birthed in the imagination of men. Such inner beauty displaying the graces of wisdom, tenderness and power. All this beauty...all this grace. What can I say about the beauty of "mother"...
I am one that believes humans go through stages of growth based on what they are prepared to carry. In an ideal world, youth find toothpicks heavy. Dealing with all measures of teenage angst. Learning to cope with friendships and new feelings that arise. As they get older and the toothpicks weight becomes light, they are now ready to carry a wooden beam. Leaving home, fending for themselves and experimenting with more mature subjects as they begin to find out who they are. Soon enough, that wooden beam becomes light and they are now ready to carry heavy logs. Heavy logs that may include marriage or more importantly...a child. For to carry the weight of another life requires strong shoulders. Shoulders whose strength is settled into the idea they must remain that strong for the duration of the lives that they have been blessed to carry. This is a mother...
I have been exceedingly blessed to have two mothers. One that bore me and one that helped raise me through my adolescent years. Both very different but both strong and beautiful in their own individual ways. From one I saw the breadth and length she would go to make sure we were not only taken care of, but that we were treated to the very best and from the other, I saw the daily care in the cooked meal, the attention given to my day and how little things could make all the difference in the world. From the single mother that works and does all she can for her children to the stay at home mom that does the same. The sacrifice to themselves was always evident and this is the ultimate metric for what I call "mother".
I give honor and praise to my ex-wife Millie for being the perfect helpmate in raising my sons and although we are not together today, she remains my helpmate in this regard until the day God chooses to take us home. Relationships may evolve and so must the way we parent but a parent is a parent for life and we do not take this lightly. She is one of the greatest women I have ever known without exaggeration and she is deserving of all that I can give her in this life even now. All men of duty, honor and love will attest that a good woman should never be taken for granted or taken advantage of. She has my love, respect, honor and care for as long as is required of me.
I also give honor to all the women I've known that have sacrificed their lives for the sake of raising their children. You may think this praise redundant but in a world where too many today are more concerned with "me time" that they have shifted their focus off their children, I believe those that have stayed focused and found proper balance should receive honorable mention. I believe in "me time" as it is a necessity at times for sanity but never at the expense of the children and/or marriage. I have come to know and love single mothers that have impressed me with the care of their children. My love only growing for them when I found myself second to their children. They know who they are. So take heed little boys. Where you see "baggage"...I see greatness.
Now lest I should put aside my eloquent praise too early, there is one more group I must mention. A smaller group I've been more than blessed to come to know. To the women that have taken children unto themselves that they have not borne but have birthed in grace through love itself, I give you the highest honor. Revealing that the heart of a mother is beyond flesh and blood and that love can cross that blood barrier creating a family with no difference from any other is a miracle to me. If I knew nothing else about you, that to me is more than enough to solidify your worth. From those of you that adopt, to those that have chosen to raise children in difficult circumstances...I hold you in the highest esteem. You know who you are...
Happy Mother's Day to you all...enjoy your day and be blessed...
The funeral parlor was as I expected. Family and people I didn't know gathered together to honor my uncle. My uncles had to do a double take because they didn't recognize the scrawny kid they once knew. Endearing, beautiful cousins I had known as a child now adults interacting on Facebook were as easy as breathing. Pictures beside my uncle showed a handsome man in his younger days alongside his brothers. Laughing, having a good ole time and as a wonderful gift to me, it would become apparent that nothing had really changed. Except that one was now missing.
To sit around these men as the funeral ended was a treat for me in itself but to interact as one of them was an even greater gift. To soak in the crazy, unrepentantly raw sense of humor of these seasoned men felt all too familiar. The jokes at each others expense, the talk of women and the honesty was refreshing to say the least in a world where everything needs a prefaced explanation or an apology...these men would offer none. I felt right at home and I savored every minute of it. I understood then why the women that were with them were so enamored by them. These men are men. Unabashedly unapologetic about who they are and why and for those that don't know? That, my friends, will beat out the skinny jean, crocks wearing mother f*ckers any day of the week and twice on Sundays.
The only difference between them and I is that I have learned how not to give a f*ck without having the whole room hate me for it which I might add has happened to me in my younger days. Something I found absolutely hysterical by the way. I can also say that I've made adjustments to my life so I can keep my passions in check where I never have to make the choice between hurting someone I love or lying to continue some ill-advised secret satiation. I know these men have learned their lesson the hard way but you can still hear it in their speech. It's like going to an Andrew Dice Clay concert...it's expected. I completely understand that the difference is not based in honor but it is based in generational sensibilities. In their generation and culture, it was no dishonor that a man should follow his libido wherever it went which is why women would wait for their men to return even after infidelity. Being the generation at the receiving end of the detrimental effects secrets and infidelity can cause, I fervently chose openness and transparency as a code to follow instead. My libido is just as strong if not stronger but I will never hurt someone over it. I make no bones about what I am capable of, even tonight, but I am a man in control because I know the extreme damage I can cause by simply loosening the reins but a little.
Now lest you all think for a second that I am excusing infidelity, read the rest of my blog first and if you still think that, stop reading because you must be stupid. Someone once told me that "the good in me far outweighs the bad by miles" and that is what I am saying here about them. Great men never fall softly...they always fall hard. If I judge them then I judge myself because the only real world difference between the unfaithful and the faithful is that one gives in to the "sin" and the other doesn't but both are tempted just the same. If you ever tell me that you have not been tempted to do wrong then please describe to me how to get to your unicorn enriched lands because I might get hungry and want to eat from the lake of gumdrops in your backyard. Getting back to it...it was a good night.
To see them all together brings me an unspeakable joy because I understand now what I couldn't as a child. They are honorable men of a different time. Loving all the women they came to know. Being there for them as best they could when they knew they were good women. Carrying with them the generational flaw of "the game" and getting caught up in the worst of it. These men are old guard and they have my respect without question. I am glad to be a part of this family. A family of misfits that knows and relishes in that fact. I'm sure my uncle Carlos was laughing right along with us.
Misfit: Fittin everywhere and nowhere...and motherf*ckin proud...
For a long time I asked myself "what the hell is wrong with me?...."
I am a man that has struggled with the idea of conventional love for a long time. This love that dictates our life-mate and that individual we are supposed to now answer to. This love that gets us up into flight and at 50,000 feet thinks it funny to run out of gas bringing us to a fiery, painful death. A bit too morbid? Am I too down on love for you? How can a poet that speaks with such eloquence on the virtues of love be so pessimistic about it? If these are your questions, then you need to re-read the first sentence again. I am speaking about "conventional love" and that my friends is love but in my opinion...it's not as pure as it should be. Allow me to explain...
This is the love everyone is conditioned to believe in. A love that requires something be done outwardly for proof. A love that requires two people in love to say "this must be fate" and because it is "fate" they no longer have any say in the matter. They must now be together. This is that love that becomes co-mingled with men's rules and as such...becomes tainted. It ceases to be pure and is now turned into an idea based on a principal with no room for error. That's when it becomes "work". Work is something you get paid for and love should not be a commodity to trade. It is to be given freely with no return on investment. This, my friends, is where we screw it up...guilt by association.
We place unrealistic expectations on love when these expectations involve humans. Where the expectation should be placed on the person, we unfairly place it on this mystical power called love that is supposed to somehow turn us into better people. Love does not make decisions...we do. Love does not create contracts...we do. Love does not break contracts...we do. Pure love is selfless surrender and that is all it is. It cannot be confused with greed though often it is and it cannot be confused with lust...though often it is. It does not ask for anything in return and this is why most people find themselves confused. This is something, we as humans, in this "me and mine" society cannot wrap our heads around any longer. It is the hardest thing to find in this age of "self" where most duty-bound sacrifice is met with a terse "f-that!!!". When you hear the phrase "If you love me..." think long and hard what comes next. Use love as a manipulation tactic and it ceases to be all you claimed it to be. Let that one marinade for awhile...
I wholeheartedly believe in relationships but I also believe in what they should mean. In fact, the best relationships are written standing on a foundation of love but relationships require work and they, in fact, must have a return on investment. It is a contract between two people that find themselves compatible. Agreements and rules are necessary in order for them to work. They are facilitated by love but not enforced by love. People enforce the rules within the relationship yet be aware that people are fallible. They will at one point or another, violate those rules. Breaking the contract and sowing seeds of mistrust is not a by-product of love but of our own humanity. This is why we continue to love them even in failure because pure love as opposed to attraction or compatibility is a constant. Love gives us the will to forgive the infraction and continue within the contract but the choice remains ours. We decide...not love. Yet because love is made the reason for said contract, it is easy to blame by association for the pain the violation has incurred. That is a serious error. Love is not to blame because love had nothing to do with you violating your agreement...that was your doing. Love tried to stop you but for most people, sadly, that is never enough. Character does that my friends and if your mate is lacking in that most important quality, all the love in the world will not stop him or her from failing you. I've seen too many run away from ever loving again for "what it could mean". They stay clear of love because of the scars they carry from a past relationship. It was so at one time but for me, that is no longer the case...
After two beautiful relationships, each one handing all parties our own set of beautiful scars, I would not take back my love for any amount of money. One relationship was near perfect, the other was not as perfect but both uniquely held my love in such ways that I remember the moments of loves' manifestation as moments of pure beauty. Moments I would readily relive with them if given the privilege. A purity of passion and fire that was beyond this realm of flesh and blood. Words lack the expression that kind of purity invokes and today, moments like these...are all I seek. I have had the privilege of experiencing this with others that I found worthy of such a thing and asked nothing from them in return simply because that is the nature of the experience. Now lest one should think me loose...I can assure you that they would not take more than two hands to count. I could wait for the perfect relationship but I have found that for me...there is no such thing. Most will settle for "close enough" and that's OK but as of today I feel almost compelled to stay clear from attaining any new scars because the ones I bear are more than enough to sustain my wisdom. I live, I love and I do my best to remove humanity's failings from the equation. I fail at this but I come close enough by the effort. I make no investment and I require none because without this, I find no disappointment. I seek none to own and none to be owned by. Now you may call it a defense mechanism but I have lived a life of a thousand men and I am content to love without all the trappings of ownership. Experience has chosen this road for me. It has drawn out the poet and the lover in me and today...I am who I am.
So I say for those without love...let it overtake you. It is the last pure thing in this world as yet to go silent. For those with no scars...get some, I am thankful for the wisdom they have given me. For those that have been hurt...don't blame love, a humans failure is their own... Be wise in all your dealings and remember..."love may be blind but she is never stupid"...
For a long time I asked myself "what the hell is wrong with me?". "Why can't I be in a relationship?" I can finally answer...nothing.
"...give me time give us a kiss...tell me your own politik..."
As many of you know, I don't usually write about politics on this blog and in some ways, given the nature of what I'm about to share...may as yet remain true for this piece. As of late, there has been an awakening of sorts. Some, like myself, have been sensing it's creep in increments for quite some time. A "shifting" making itself manifest like a washing of sorts from the upper atmosphere on down to earth. Cleansing out the scales that have built up over the eyes of men that have developed over years. Allowing people to see what they could not (or would not) before. A sight that can now afford folk the freedom to scrutinize the systems they've been told to accept. Systems created within systems that will no longer be compatible within this new free flow of ideas as these systems were developed in limited scope towards the advancement of agendas built on control. In what ways has this free flow been made manifest? Here is where it gets a bit political...
2016 was a banner year. It was an election year poised to end like any other. Almost every analyst predicted Hillary Clinton was going to win the Presidency. She did all that was expected of her according to the standards set forth by other democrat campaigns. Now I know many can point to failures as to why she lost but if you look at every other election year...you can see it was "textbook". It was basic and as "system" as one could get. So what happened? Donald J Trump happened. This man broke every single establishment rule and won big. He had consultants that he rarely listened to. He spoke off the cuff and said things no other politician could ever get away with. Instead of being shunned by his style...he was lauded due to his ability to remain "authentic" in almost every situation. Love him or hate him...he chose to be himself. He has since governed using the same brash authenticity that got him into office. Conditioning many to accept something profoundly important: Maybe doing things differently ain't so bad after all...
Fast forward to 2018. An interesting time in broadcasting to say the least. Television had become littered with shows advancing "accepted" progressive thought. Great storytelling was replaced by mediocre plotlines with just enough room for a "lesson" in "tolerance" thrown in here and there. Award shows meant to celebrate the arts were now telethons for progressive causes. Where every celebrity got the chance to pontificate their elevated viewpoints. Speaking down to the "lessers" that dared vote against a "system" designed to glorify their virtue signaled status. So what happened? Roseanne Barr happened. A show that was born in the 80's had decided to reveal what life was like today outside the progressive mindset the "system" was regularly feeding the masses. Not that the progressive mindset did not exist but unlike other shows...every mindset was evenly represented. We got to see what it was like when all these mindsets had to co-exist among people that loved each other. Where fights had more to do with real life issues and less to do with climate change or racial divides. Showing us that what we have in common has the ability through love to outdo the outrage that stems from political differences. What shocked everyone the day after the first show aired was the record viewership it received. Lesson learned: Maybe doing things differently ain't so bad after all...
Now come on up to about 2 weeks ago (this post is written in May 2018). A well known triple A-list rapper named Kanye West decided he would come out of Twitter seclusion and post something revolutionary. He simply tweeted: "I like the way Candace Owens thinks". Revolutionary? I guess you'd have to know who Candace Owens is before you'd agree. Folks, Candace Owens is pretty young to the conservative movement speaking scene and as such...her passion is at its peak. People that are awakened from slumber have an unparalleled energy to awaken others with a zeal that can become infectious. Except...there was a bit more to her than just conservatism. Actually, a lot more. You see Candace is a young black woman with a passion to not only awaken others but primarily...to awaken her race to free thought. A race that has had their identity stolen from them by those in political power desiring subservience above all else resulting in an oft taken advantage of secure "voting block". Going so far as to constantly pick at the 400 year old wound of slavery; never allowing it to heal so that every mention of it could produce a rage directed at their political opponents. Never mentioning how essential they were as free folk in creating this beautiful place called America; only ever mentioning the scourge of slavery to create a hatred for a land their ancestors helped build. Now that you understand this...you can now see how she can be seen as a danger to the "system". A system that has silently festered for generations. So here comes this little pebble called Candace gettin tossed into an ocean of influence by a man that has been seeking this very freedom as an artist and as a man...revived to continue on his quest. So again...why is this so revolutionary? Well, this man's arm was long enough to reach over 27 million souls in an instant creating a tidal wave that didn't just sweep over political lands. No...that wave swept over cultural lands as well. Lands that have been purposely left barren for years. Creating a much needed conversation within the black community that has been long overdue. Kanye's message is meant to reveal a truth. A truth that proclaims manipulated rage doesn't have to reign in the hearts of men. That when we see each other for who we actually are as opposed to how we are represented by political players...we can find so much more beauty to love. That we can let go of media manufactured prejudices...allowing us to freely love each other in depth. So in this case, like the others...maybe doing things differently...ain't so bad after all.
Now, one can say Kanye's message of love was informed by Candace's message of independence and Candace's message of independence might have been informed by Roseanne's message of "the real". Yeah...one can say that but I won't. I just thought it would make for a really cool close but in retrospect...it would suck. Truth is all these souls did and are currently doing something no one's really ever been able to do within the system successfully: Be exactly who they are...as loud as they can. While tearing up the system from the inside out. Acts that have made every cog in these systems lash out in hatred and rage...knowing their time is up. So what's next? Whatever it is...I'm ready for it. We are truly living in "interesting times". Much love...
Life carries one through ups and downs. Ups and downs that are experienced in our "valleys". Yet there's a place that allows us to navigate such places by granting us the graces we require for our journey. That place...is our "mountaintop".
You see on my mountaintop I came to learn by design that my God is greater than all my cares. Greater than my worst disease and sweeter to me than all the loveliest women I would ever come to know. I find His peace immeasurable and His love unfailing. His power? Without limit. I could stay there for days soaking in His sun...basking in His life and love but you see, the mountaintop isn't some long term spiritual move nor is it a place meant for eternal peace. Each time you climb there's a limit to how long you can stay and it's designed this way for a purpose. It's purpose finds fulfillment in the dredges of the valley.
It's in the valley that you now get to see all that God showed you from Him...manifested through you. It's in the valley that you are tested by despair, pain, fear and loss. It's in the valley that God lets you realize a stirring truth..."I showed you how great I was on the mountain; I prove it here...in the valley". With every climb to the mountaintop you "know" greater strength and with every subsequent walk in the valley...you display it. In the valley...we face our hardest test.
Yet what happens when your time in the valley has gone on for way too long and the last memory of God's strength was so far gone away that its epiphany has become a distant memory? This is when the valley can swallow you whole and drive you into its darkest depths. The grip of fear and doubt will overtake you as though you were just a child with no knowledge of the growth you've already achieved and time? It runs slows in this place...as does life.
Snap out of it and refresh yourself a bit on a mountaintop even though there is work to do in the valley below. You're no good draggin your knuckles on fear and doubt no matter how big and bad you think you are. Let God reveal Himself to you again so you can believe again. Trust again...so you "can do all things through Him that strengthens you". Now...I know what my mountaintop looks like. How bout you? Been runnin too long? You might just need a new mountaintop experience and lest you think I'm talkin about a vacation...your mountaintop? Is within you ;-) Much love...I'm out...
...never giving up on the soul that has it and never taking it for granted...
...not just a feeling but it is also the driving force of sacrifice...
...knowing where to stand and knowing when to step aside....
In this world of ego and possession, many have lost the capacity to truly love with abandon and that my friends makes it all the more valuable to find. Just keep in mind that when you do, all that is "self" will no longer be in play as the only thing that will be of import is what is best for the object of that love. This will cause confusion and sometimes pain of loss but that is not the fruit of love. No, instead, that is the fruit of "self" that cannot fathom how one that could truly love walk away from what they truly love. Is it really walking away though? Or is it making room for something more? Too many play the zero sum game in matters of love when love's complexities go way beyond that. If you're just tuning in? Welcome to my world...
I have been in situations where I have had to make the choice between keeping the mindset of hope or taking on the concept of possibilities. With hope, you allow yourself to see the object of your love as just that. With possibilities, the object of your love takes on another role. Becoming a possibility of something that may happen in life if all things should line up correctly. You never completely remove yourself from the lives you've come to truly love but if need be, you change your mindset for their benefit and your peace. Due to the strength of your love, they may never grasp the difference.
Love is my anchor. My reason for living and why I still remain as I am. So love with abandon and inso doing always remember the truth of all things before you. Stay sober-minded in your drunkenness so that if the day should ever come when your mindset must change, you will not do it in bitterness, anger or frustration. Instead you will do it with the same love you have always had because although your mindset will see change...your truest love will not. Much love my people...rest easy...
"...You let all the girls go, makes you feel good, don't it?
Behind your Broadway show, I heard a boy say, "Please, don't hurt me"..."
Alot of people search a lifetime seeking their place in this machine called "life" but every once and awhile...some are able to see their place through others. Watching "The Outsiders" as I listened to the eclectic collection of music on my Ipod produced a different experience altogether. WE...are "The Outsiders"...
My father was a teenager when he left Puerto Rico in search of a better life. He left, in essence, to find a reason for his existence. He found his way to New York. He worked odd jobs while he lived with a mother that had left him with her parents in Gurabo. She thought him "safer" without her. After much deliberation, she may have been right. This man grew up to be a flawed nobleman with the heart of a poet lacking the eloquence of expression. What frustration. What an enigma...until he freely opened his mouth. You saw his words and art through his life...his giving without reservation...his ever present love. Every woman that has ever held his heart still holds his heart and devotion...even to this day. Through him, I received the truth of real love. The truth that love, when real...is eternal. It is something you cannot fight and is more than worthy of attention when called to action within the bounds of what is "right". That it never works outside those bounds and if tried, will be doomed to failure. That it must be free and true to ever be able to flourish into the eternal. In both success and failure, he is my hero. He is my muse in the ways of love and nobility. I will never know a better example of all I call "father" and "man". A part of me will die the day Father God decides it's time for him to come home...but in my tears, I will rejoice.
My mother always saw herself as the black sheep of the family. Being the only one to stand with Papa Eduardo as he stood accused before church counsels of infidelity. A man of great renown in the Dominican Republic, he was driven to exile but she never gave way to despair. Later in life, standing alone...nothing would change. I have seen her greatness of strength. Managing to provide the best for her children on her own without ever having to resort to using the least of what is called "woman". Her heart desirous...her strength feared. I have truly seen what is called "woman"...and it is strong. It is everything we lack as "men" and are afraid to express. It is perfect. Flawed...but perfect nonetheless. The unending reservoir of strength within womankind is the story of her life. I love and admire her beyond words. She longs for home but holds on for the sake of seeing her children become more than they are. A daily prayer to say the least. She is very special to me and holds a place reserved for no other...she is my template...
My brother is a man of many faces. The one he loves to wear is of the man that doesn't have a care in the world. The selfish man...but I see past that. His life of shortcuts and turmoil have him pressing for relevance in the eyes of his little girl. She is the only thing that really moves him to tears past the hardness of the life he's endured. To see her smile because of something he's done means the world to him and all he does is for her. Yet...he deems it necessary to put aside his true motivation lest it slow his progress. No one really sees it. I do...and I love him for it. I so envy his fearlessness...
My sister is my angel. She really doesn't know how far my admiration extends for her. A woman that God has taken through the worst of herself only to come through wanting "better" for herself. To "believe" even after all she's been through inspires a faith in me unparalleled. She doesn't know and she should. I love her and one of my greatest frustrations lays on the fact that the human tongue has no words to express it. How proud I am of the woman she's become makes her past make all the sense in the world to me. It's like watching a flower blossom...and she's about three quarters of the way there. Although 4 years my senior, I will always accept my role as her "older brother". She knows what that means...
My step-mother. Another amazing woman, gave me an old school code that originated in the streets of Ecuador. Standing on an old school principal and decorum that was only manageable from the inside out. She stood by my father no matter what and loved my father enough to love me just the same. She took on the full role of "mother" at a young age and she didn't need to. All the while teaching me that the small gestures matter more than the elaborate. Teaching me that even though you have very little, the heart is more than enough to satiate through "family" the hungry soul. All via the simple pleasures of life and love. Her life is my own and I honor her among those that have made this man all he is today.
My years as a man began early for me. I married at eighteen. Not for necessity, but for love. This beauty's name was Millie. I remember praying for her when I was about fifteen. My father drove the church bus. As I saw her get out with her grandmother and sister, I said "Lord, what about her?" God answered years later. Her patience and love assisted in turning me into a man of understanding. A man of honor and passion for beautiful things. I became a better man because that is what she deserved and the love we have for each other inspired the beautiful in us both. The elements involved? Near flawless. She will always be "la babe"...and she knows it lol We may have amicably divorced, but our love And mutual respect remained...the ultimate evidence that it was real. Our two sons stand as a testament to who and what we were and are as parents...as people. The pride I have in Millie, Josh and Caleb has no limit and they will always be under the guard of my wing and shade of my love. They are all beautiful to me...and they always will be. People, you can never deny what truly made you. There is no "greener grass". It's all just different. Each blade carrying its own complex beauty...and an understanding heart will accept the truth of this. Divorce or not, a piece of paper will never determine the vastness and complexity of love. We may not be "together" but she is as much a part of me as my skin. Thanks Dad...
I have played the song above throughout this piece and I can admit coming close to tears at times. Especially about mom and dad. I haven't felt to cry like this in quite some time and it's a hard thing for me to do freely anymore. I know all they really mean to me. Most wait till after death to see their parent's contribution but being who I am allows me to see the fullness of their roles in my life. To know one day I will lose them is heartbreaking to me but without death, there really is no sense to "life". I understand "me" now more than ever. I get all I'm about through the best of all those that surround me because I mirror them...even if they think they mirror me. My friends during and since have all served as confirmation of all I have I have learned and know to be true. It has and is my blessed grace to know in love and passion those I call "pretty", "amazing", "homie", "tender" and "phenomenal". My "Texas rose", my "maddie", my "flower" and my "habibi". My friends, my church family and "crew". They will never truly know the role they have played and still play in the heart of the man seeking evidence of all he knows to be true. All special. All relevant. All forever etched into the heart of this man...and all worth way more than this vagabonds heart.
Now you know. It's clear isn't it? If you can't see all I'm trying to show you then you must be blind. You are not an island. Life, circumstance and surrounding souls influence your growth. How you see them makes all the difference in the world and if you can't see the good in them as well as the bad then your growth will feel the pain of it. Dress yourself with an understanding heart. See it all...and learn...
Tonight...I am like a man that has eaten to satisfaction but can stand to eat a little more...
I remember a time when men were from Mars and women were from Venus. When my weakness was her strength and my strength was her weakness. When men and women just fit like two puzzle pieces drawn together culminating into the beautiful bigger picture. I want, she wants...we need. What happened? Somewhere along the way some genius thought it ok to blur the planets. They said it was an uneven exchange. That one held power over the other. They manipulated this change by highlighting Mars' scant evils as opposed to what it truly meant to be different and unique. They thought in doing so they could diminish the strength of men but in the process...everybody lost. Venetians lost their uniqueness and with it...their power. As a Martian, I feel somewhat lost...as I no longer recognize my planet or it's occupants. Yet my power remains undiminished as it is still in use but so many have lost so much that they now meander the streets alone taking what they can get...just to be able to feel connected. Planets used to meet with an understanding based in at least some modicum of truth and transparency. Now, they must meet under a cloud of suspicion because you can no longer tell where they are from...or where they truly wish to take you...
I really didn't know how bad it was until today. I just went into a store to grab a protein meal and was greeted by someone that actually wanted me know she was interested. She didn't care if she looked needy or desperate. She didn't worry about holding some fictitious "upper hand". She just wanted me to know that she saw me. I instinctively began to give her a look over to see what was wrong with her as would any man in this age. I looked at her face and it was beautiful. A bright smile accentuated by her blue eyes, flaming red hair and pale skin. I saw no issues with her figure as it was clearly above average. Now, she was not the first to show interest but this one had no need to as she is one that men would easily show interest in. Usually women "in demand" don't even bother or play the "coy" game. It hit me as I left saying nothing but "thank you sweetheart...good night" that I was awestruck by this creature. Not for looks or anything else on the exterior but because it had been some time that I met someone that seemingly had no pretense. That wasn't afraid to give so much so soon. She wasn't forward. She didn't arch her back or pick something up so I could notice her ass nor did she wink or lick her lips. Classless standards I am now sadly accustomed to. She just showed interest. I have been so used to "coy" and "playing it cool" after "hints" at interest are shown. Always having to read signs and body language. Gauging facial reactions and wondering what they mean all in the name of "we can't sweat him too much or his head will explode". Having to endure this exhausting game played by so many. A game that has kept so many real men and women closed off. So much so that women are stuck playing games with boys that don't know how to be men. Too needy or too aloof with no sense of self. Eager to please while always expecting something in return...
Think back a ways. Remember being a kid in Junior High? Getting a scribbled note on torn loose leaf paper that read "Hi my name is *** and I like you, would you like to meet sometime for pizza?" She didn't tell me what she wanted to do to me. She didn't hit me with labia pics right away. She didn't tell me where she lived. She just showed interest. No games played...just interest. I just realized how important that was to me today because it is so rare. Only to remind me of all that had been lost.
Ok so the million dollar question: Will I pursue? My answer now is a tentative no. Only because I think I may have gotten the best I could ever get from that encounter...so why ruin it? Besides, I ain't in no hurry. Folks, the future is wide open for me and I'm open to it all. Things and people I love are still on my horizon of hope so who knows... All I know is that tonight I feel a little less lost and I'm glad about that. The night was "sweet-like"...I'm out
