He here

I feel you....maybe instead of calling Jesus we need to call each other...shyt has got to change...only gonna happen if we do it ourselves...peeps too worried about who I sleep with instead of worrying about if I had enough sleep or if I have a place to sleep..let's do better...we have been waiting too long for Jesus...missing the point...Jesus never left.

moment of silence

 
Walker-Hoover, an 11-year-old African-American boy from Springfield, MA, took his own life, in response to the bullying he endured everyday at school. According to reports, Walker-Hoover was repeatedly taunted for “being gay.”

can it be written
without being told
like the letters
swimming with
mixed vegetables in alphabet soup
interpretation left at the whim
of the glutton
no spell check or dictionary needed

with spoon in hand any man can
plan and predict as fools often do
concepts created and based on
fixed outcomes
loose facts
this and that
but sometimes i wanna chill
and not know or be led to believe

let me remain oblivious
don’t blow the element of
surprise like a cheap high
like the one where you
sucked dick
to get a hit and now
it’s all written with the
letters in a poet’s mind
ravished by wine and
anti-depression pills

i can’t make myself
not feel what that eleven year old
boy felt moments before he hung himself
or that lil gurl who was abused
and tortured to death by her step
momma and daddy
daddy’s little gurl
not in her world
hangers and dark closets
where the real monster
fed her
wife before honor

i honor you in this poem
this minute
this moment of silence

excuses excuses excuses

i'm all out of excuses
plum out
empty
can't make up anymore
excuses
lies
denies
alibis
excuse after excuse
covered mirrors
dark rooms
unopened blinds
no more excuses about why i can't

flashback to dysfunctional childhoods
fondled in places by different faces
house key around my neck
working mom
absent father
excuses excuses excuses
i'm empty

like gas light on empty
like not one drop
kool-aid pitcher left empty
i have relied on excuses far too long
like why i haven't published a sentence
or taken a risk beyond my mind's imagination
living my passion

bad credit, lapsed insurance, i hate my job
i'm lonely, fat, and depressed
i can't make up another excuse

there’s breath in my body
blood flowing through my veins
toxic brains can be cleaned
the word value does not make it a meal
cheap now but later no deal
the shyt is real

processed meat with swollen feet
ice tea made too sweet
not sweet like a baby's kiss
but sweet like you run the risk
of having to buy needles and dialysis time
mental excursions no rehearsing this time
no excuse comes to mind

like calling out of work cause you're
feeling sick, can't stop taking shits
brown water falling from your ass
nausea, loss of appetite, knowing that
processed meat got you a soar seat
like sandpaper raw, u can't sleep
no insurance only home remedies
scrapping up pennies to
purchase pharmaceuticals
missing work boss stating the
rules to you
bring a note or
some type of excuse
bitch i'm sick what you want me to do
i can take pics of my shit and
text them to you or email them as
attachments from google

screw you fuck you
no more excuses i'm through
who's who
if i was working for myself i wouldn't need no excuse
if i was following my passion i wouldn't need no excuse
if i'm living life's purpose i wouldn't need no excuse
no more excuses
i'm all out of excuses
i'm through

Possible Book Cover

Games: Enjoy life

gratitude (Dedicated to Dr. Newton)

It’s in the midst of realizing you have nothing
But knowing you have everything
That God speaks

If you notice the distant chirp of a bird
The innocence of puppies
The cry of a child

The tranquility of a flowing stream
The bloom of flowers in Spring
The confident embrace of a father and child

In the darkness of my self imposed despair
The illusion of grandeur, only more bills,
The drive for more

For more this, for more that,
The need to feel complete,
Then God speaks

Through raging fire and flashing floods
Repossessions, illness, taxes, and death
Wealth offers little immunity to reality

In the midst of realizing you have nothing
You realize you have been blessed beyond measure
Testament of your presence; warm blood in your veins

Gratitude grants giving and grateful individuals the
Gift of blessings beyond measure even in the
Midst of nothingness-

In the midst of nothing
There is life and for life
I’m grateful.

physical attraction regret/ coke makes dare reality

like an empty bowl
next to a hot stove
i wanna write something
that will feed the soul.
i seek nourishment,
something divinely sent,
something i can chef up and put to print.

fame and profit's nice,
but this is my life,
if i can share what i learn
then it's worth the price.
it's worth the mistakes,
the late night debates,
it's worth the pain and the
dirty stains and it's worth
getting wet in the august rain

it's worth the time,
worth the senseless crimes
though i never got caught
the lies haunt my mind
can't live with regret so i try and forget and
pray those marauding thoughts will leave me
like a morning shyt

like the night i lost a friend
on some stupid shyt
spit on his dick like a geeked up trick
working street corners tryna make a lick
it wasn't bout the coke
but that shyt ain't no joke
white sparkling rows on a mirror
like dixie crytals

blinded by the dope and
the hope of wanting he
but he wanting she
and she ain't me
i wrestle with circumstances endlessly
maybe a cheap thrill
would spend the wheel
pushing this heavy load up the hill

moon out
stars bright
room dark
but it went to far
i couldn't stop my car
like a falling star or being drunk in a bar
falling on my face such disgrace
we're forever scarred

words no longer shared
replaced with awkward glares
reneged on this dare
if i could disappear
like i was never here
like i was never born

vampires never see the sun
they stay on the run
never loving one
never coming undone
never misplacing pride
let the music die
i just told a lie

friendship means more than lust
in me you can trust
but the flesh was weak and
the lust was a must and
the trust wasn't trust
like the sweet pickles bus
it just never shows up

i leave the station
my final destination
the death of me will be my need
to fly with the breeze
to just live free

to rid myself of cravings for misbehaving for
contemplations mutual stimulation
simulating acts implanted in my
genetic code and
mental overload

the trauma of being birthed
with a loving soul
innocent and free
attracted to men like me
a masculine touch
is it much too much?
i don’t know, it must have been
cause we’re no longer friends
....to be continued