For the better…

Posted: June 6, 2018 in poetry
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person holding clear ball in shallow focus photography

Photo by McKylan Mullins on

Too much of nothing can change a man…

For the better…

For all who accumulate are slaves to their accumulations

For you have to house it

Protect it and perhaps pay for it

Again and again and again

You can’t take it with you when you go

And how do you exactly know

If you will have anyone to hand it off to

In the end

And will they keep it

Care for it

Slave for it

-As you did?

When you compare the minimalist lifestyles

To those of the decadent

Is it really so magnificent

To discover


We manipulate people



And ourselves to

Drive luxury vehicles

And inhabit houses with more rooms

Than we need fill

With finery to impress others

Who could positively

At sheer will

Not give 2 fucks

About you or me

Or our possessions

To feel that much taller

In our smaller minds

Working numerous hours overtime

Neglecting all

Who should matter

Too much of nothing can change a man…

For the better…

Take the backpacker

With nothing but a satchel upon his back

Who trades accumulation for experience

Because in the end

Will what you have even matter

When you thrive on the pattern

Of remembering your existence

As the things you did

How you lived

What and who you saw and met

Along the way

(Who looks back to ponder all the accumulation

They collected over their lifetime)

Are the diamonds more beautiful

That the Egyptian sunset

Or the rushing waves on the beaches of Malawi

But you’d have fortune instead of adventure

And wonder why your mind ventures

To make the statement

“Too much of nothing can change a man…”

Because you will most assuredly

Reference the title line in the end…


The Dropped Note

Posted: June 6, 2018 in writing
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Human beings, being a naturally curious species, in all things, -whether being a spectator on the highway to witness a car accident or even the child who curiously touches the fire, explains why I had to pick up the opened envelope, holding a letter, in the park that day. It had no return address, so I couldn’t return it to the sender, and while it did have an addressee, after reading the letter, I understood why they would have cause to drop it or abandon it. And I understood why I shouldn’t re-mail it to the recipient.

Perhaps the owner placed it in the overfilled park garbage container and it fell to the ground and blew away in the wind until it straddled the tree I found it under. It was handwritten. The writing was in plain print, not cursive or fancy. The letters were straight and neat, not too big and not too small. It was legible, perhaps well thought out, the writer wasn’t in a hurry or an emotional wreck.

It read:

Dear Monte,

I’m glad you grew up in a loving home. I knew I couldn’t give you one, but at least I know someone’s prayers were answered. I didn’t want to be found, not by you or anyone. I’d be lying if I told you that I wanted you, because the truth is, I didn’t even want myself. I was reluctant in writing this letter, but realized I should give you an explanation since you were respectful enough to write to request to meet me, and I couldn’t ignore you, just in case you decided to show up at my door. I don’t know how to sugar coat this, so I’ll write it plainly. I was raped when I was 14 by my paternal uncle, numerous times, and you were the result. I’ve never told anyone this. You are now the only one who knows. If I told you, you don’t want to know the truth or that it would hurt you, would you have only desired to know it more? I hate to tell you this, and I hope it doesn’t cast a shadow on your existence. I have no doubt you are loved and were meant to be here. I’ve often heard it said, that God doesn’t make mistakes. I lied to my mom who was a single parent and an alcoholic about my pregnancy because I was afraid of what my uncle would do to me. I knew I couldn’t keep you because I didn’t want you exposed to this life, or the world I lived in. I can’t say I’ve escaped my existence because I’ve become my mother, -only alcohol isn’t my only addiction. One thing we have in common, if nothing else, is opening Pandora’s box. It seems to be the theme of my life. I don’t want it to be the theme of your life. So get rid of this letter and dispose of this truth, even from your mind. The only thing you need to know about your existence, or your parentage, is that you are the only worthy thing that has transpired in my life -to know you had all the love and opportunities I didn’t, and that I wish I could give you under differing circumstances. I wish you all the success and happiness in this world that can be had, so never look back, only forward from this day forward.



I kept this letter with me throughout the years, as a reminder, that some truths no matter how much we long to know them, simply aren’t revealed so easily for a reason. Even me, picking up this note I found by the old oak in the park, is synonymous with barking up the wrong tree, literally. Sometimes our curiosity gets the better of us. Sometimes, we should remain in the dark… I think Monte chose to be in the end, by losing this letter.


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her soul

-Only her burned flesh


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her mind

-Only her body


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her heart

-Only her anger


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her dreams

-Only her vile life


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her hope

-Only her despair


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her light

-Only her darkness


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her grace

-Only her unease


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her smile

-Only her sad tears


She was beautiful

But nobody saw her fate

-Only her perils


And thus her beauty

Faded under her newly

Adopted eye view


Here’s to the fools who

Couldn’t see your beauty, but

-I’m looking at you…


Posted: May 2, 2018 in poetry
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I sizzle for you

My aroma

The allure of your behest

Infiltrating your nostrils

Mesmerizing your palate

To partake,

The crispness of my body

Shakes upon your flame

And you don’t even know my name

But I’m just so very glad you came

Just one more thing remains

I want to taste you

Like you taste me

Discover all the ambiguities

And sacred inequities

Of your mouth,

I want to embrace your tongue

And make you swallow,

My flavor more potent

Than your very virtue,

I want you to digest me fully

Until your body is amply satisfied

Then do it all over again,

I want to become your addiction

One and only

Thrive on me

Live for me

For we are each other’s destiny

Flesh for flesh

Enrapture me

I love the way you finger me

And lift me on high

Sing to me

Sweet lullabies

Or what you call grace

Eat me, eat me

Every minute of the day

I want to be the recipe

That you savor,

After all,

You have to admit

My essence and piquancy

Is absolutely amazing

I’ll leave your taste buds


Make me your dish

Your succulent wish,

I see you salivating

For me,

I got your mouth watering



Complete me,

Devour me whole

And I promise I will fortify your soul

From your bowels to your


I’ll do more than my part

To please you

After all the stresses and strife

Of the day

I’ll be your foreplay,

Main Course

And dessert,

I mix well with chocolate

Mark my words

We’ll be the greatest 3 meal course

Served hot

In all of the world,

And when I finish baby

You’ll be a well-versed

Culinary expert

In the cuisine of my love

Don’t leave this BACON waiting

You know you want





For D.B.

Posted: May 2, 2018 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,


Your perception of me

Is a travesty

A conception of which

You will never understand

Embedded so deeply

In your lack of humanity

Because you refuse to be


And I’m the one who becomes insane

In trusting friends

Who never were

Or loved ones

And family

Who don’t want to admit

They share the same blood as me

Who can’t see


I am not the sum of my sexuality

That there’s more to me

A duality

A sum of parts

That made me real to you

At one time

Now you treat me as if

I’ve committed a crime

In being me

Who else can I be?

Should I pretend

To be something I’m not

To feel something I don’t

To mend the fences you erected

Because you can’t admit you disrespected


-Your son

-Your best friend

-Your brother

Why I get this shit from my own mother

I will fail to ever understand

This isn’t something I chose or planned

I die each day I have to suppress


And each time I

Have to defend and address

Who I am and why I am this way

Something I fundamentally

Strive to understand


I’d drink to my health

But my mental

Is inconsequential

When it comes to delineating

How I should live

Though you prefer me to exist


Fuck that

I rather thrive

And if revealing who I am

-What you define as a faggot

Is enough to drive you away

Then you best make it a habit

And stay the fuck

Out of my life…

I’ve struggled too long

Picking up the gun and knife

Wondering if I should end it

Before some predatory, homophobic pussy

Does it for me

So I’m sorry if my big reveal

Makes you feel a little quirky

It’s not my mental that’s been murky

It’s the illusion

You had of me

-Desired me to be

But I’ll tell you right now

-I’m something!


It’s not for me to accept

But I support you

In your decision to accept it or not

Though I prefer you didn’t

Accept a label

Or wear your reality like it’s some fine robe

Or carry the weight like an unmovable anchor on your soul

And let it limit you

Or use it like an excuse

For what you say and what you do

Because the truth is

It doesn’t define you

You are more than the hand life dealt you

Don’t be out of touch

Don’t be out of reach

Your life means so much

Though you can’t quite see it

But you are young

Have yet to discover your purpose

And find your life’s meaning

You don’t need a crutch

And you don’t have to keep bleeding

Be who you are

It is who you were meant to be

If the world can’t embrace you

You don’t have to run on empty

In due time

Your clan will find you

Just don’t let them find you with your eyes closed

-not breathing

Every experience you are experiencing

Is preparing you for your ultimate beginning

And each day is a new beginning

It’s you that has to do the mending

And take up the responsibility

To live the life you want to be living

Only you hold the pen to orchestrate your novel life

I can give you wings,

But it is you who has to fly

No matter what your plight in life

At least try

There’s not a being on the face of this earth who will get by

Without an undried eye in their lifetime

I promise you tears

But I also promise you moments of unmitigated happiness

That will make you forget those moments of pain in your yester years

Abandon all fear

Accept my support

Because I will stand by you in all your fleeting moments

Of life unfolding and your desire to slit your wrists

Jump off bogus vantage points -sky high

Until I can change your point of view

But know I accept you

in the entirety of your being

-never your disease

Because of its limiting disposition

It doesn’t define you

And you should never give it the time to…