Is it Father's Day or Single Mother's day?

We don’t have this conversation on Mother’s Day, so why today? Single mothers do not play the role of both parents; she does the best she can as a mother. There is still a void with an absent father. Women, stop telling these men it’s ok to be absent because you got it…they’re not needed. I was raised by a single mother and with both parents in the household and there is a significant difference. Any other day of the year women would not argue that men and women are completely different. We communicate, problem solve, eat, poop, encourage others, process information, and even smell different. Mother’s Day is a month before Father’s Day for a reason…let these men have their day.

From Above

It's nice to be wanted, missed, and loved. The trick is getting them all from one person. That love....that love may only come from above.

Dalmatian

You were in heat
Dalmatian
You were in heat
and you left your black spots
Smudges
Black spots
Stolen
Black spots
from a dalmatian
Smudges of your DNA
All over her sheets
You were in heat
and you left your black spots
Smudges
Remnants of you
Your black spots,
Dalmatian
You left your DNA
ALL OVER HER SHEETS
You left your Black Spot
You left your son.

Flowers and Trashbags

Here I am...single again. Stuck with his flowers and trashbags. Most of you have no idea what I'm talking about, so let me explain. After a relationship ends, you are left with the persons flowers and trashbags. The flowers represent all the things you liked about this person. The specific things that kept you trying and wanting everything to work out. Whether it's a beautiful smile, great sense of humor, loving relationship with their children, intelligence, whatever it is...Every time we acknowledge one of those beautiful traits, we mentally receive a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Ohhh, they smell so good. We set them in a vase of water and display them. When our friends come over and ask about out new sweetie, we tell them all about the bouquets of flowers. "Look at them, over there on the mantle. Aren't they beautiful?"

Now the trashbags shouldn't need as much explanation. The trashbag contains all the nasty, smelly stuff. Arrogance, issues with baby mother/father, trust issues, selfishness, communication problems. So, when this stuff comes up, we throw it in the trash can and close the lid. We try not to smell it and instead focus on those beautiful bouquets of flowers. A relationships is successful when the smell of the flowers out weight the trash. When I come home and I smell those sweet flowers, I'm in a good place...all's well. I can hangout there, relax, be loving and caring. When I come home and it smells like the city dump... I'm coughing and gagging, we have a problem.

So, here I am, single again...and I'm left with his flowers and trashbags. Personally, I like to keep one flower. Only one flower. I only keep one so I'm not moping around, sad, and can't move on. I'm not harboring feelings, I'm simply remembering there were good times, a lesson to learn and grow from. These flowers keep the house smelling sweet so I can have a positive, enthusiastic attitude when entering my next relationship. Now here's the important part, we have to bag the trash and take it out...immediately. We like to bag trash and sit it by the back door. All those bags start to pile up and create resentment, envy of others relationships and anger. Now your NEW Boo comes by the house and is wondering what that awful smell is. He sees the flowers but smells the funk. Have you ever smelled when someone sprays a flowery scent over funk? It makes it worse. If they really like you, they may hang in there for awhile...even thought their eyes are tearing up from the stench.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a public service announcement from the department of Health and Love: Please take out your trash, stop, and smell the roses.

(Written 4/25/09 5am)

Your Voice

Your voice reminds me//
Sportscasters muted my moans//
Although, we've just met

The question was: How would you describe your personality?

Me, her, and that other chick. No one really wants to know all of us, especially dudes. If he likes the freak, he doesn't want the intellectual. If he falls for the intellectual, he prefers her shy. If I believe in God, that means I can't enjoy giving head. Why do people want to force shame on others about being themselves? I know why...because they are too scared to be themselves. Y'all are real fucked up. So what do I do? I show you what you want and slowly spoon feed you the rest of me.....until you choke.

Age ain't nothing but a number

“Age ain’t nothing but a number.” Bullshit. Only young fools say that…and although I’m still young, I’m no fool. This is a saying that’s often used by a young person who has yet to prove their maturity. Our ages are much more than numbers. Unless you’ve lived alone in a cave your entire life, age is a testament of life experiences. Our experiences shape who we are and how we respond to future experiences.

Today a friend of mine told me that, although he has the desire to do one thing, experience has taught him to do the exact opposite. I really respect that because that’s what life experiences are designed to do (along with test our faith in God, but that’s another blog.) For the person that truly believes the opening statement, you are saying those experiences are irrelevant. The opening statement says I would be the same person, make the same choices and decisions, had I not had those experiences. Bullshit. Today I am 33 years old. Ten years ago, I was 23 years old and a different person. I’m not going to list all my differences, but know they are major. The experiences (tired of typing that word now) I’ve had in the past 10 years have shaped who I am today and are completely relevant. “Age ain’t nothing but a number” is like telling the city worker, military enlistee, even doctor, that their years on the job mean nothing and should not count. Those years are more than just getting one day closer to retirement. Those years say what they’ve seen and (here we go again) experienced is important and valued. Ok. I think I’ve made my point.

Another point I wanted to make was although I am 33 years old, I am also 23 years old. I know, I know. I’m going to explain myself. I believe our ages are like rings in a tree trunk and layers of an onion. We add to previous years so they are always there. I know you’ve heard a women complain that her man is a “big o’ baby when he’s sick.” He sure is. He taps into his 6 year old ring. You may have seen a woman get around her father and, before your eyes, transform into a little girl. I believe there’s nothing wrong with tapping into younger rings on occasion, as long as you don’t stay there. We all know those “big ass kids” who dwell in their immature rings. You really wish they would grow the hell up. You might have even suggested this to them once or twice. That’s a down side to having access to younger rings. Anyway, I love being every year of 33 and I look forward to adding on years, rings and (for the last time) …….. experiences.

Autmn

are you sad, Autumn?//
fallen leaves, self-conscious trees//
can't see their beauty.

Love Tangible

I sought His guidance//
He appraised you as perfect//
His Love, tangible.

Untitled

Possible heartbreak//

Experiencing your love//

I will take the chance.