Their ashen fingers point south as they block the northern lights with remnants of infantile tantrums. Rusted icons hang like dilapidated advertisements swinging on broken lamp posts. Shards of sunlight glisten in oily puddles filling potholes and intentions. This is the pungent smell of ignorance.
All grown up they roam cities like children at a party where the adults indulge their fantasies starring at their phones oblivious to the smell of shitty diapers and beer cans strewn around their feet. They grew up before you knew it and now all you have are photos of the kids in the background wondering where time went.
They learnt how to hide malevolent intentions behind dramatized causes from your photo shopped existence and emogied compassion. Their eyesight is keen and hearing sharp. Like feral animals they assessed your intentions and understood your actions to be egocentric, but never learnt to spell empathy.
Now starting shit is a path to acceptance, a way to make friends for their narcissistic circles. Each one walking their own fantasy towards a collective cause of confusion. No more truths. No more opinions. No more talk. Like kids in a daycare the loudest one leads each dream along like a young boy dragging his dead puppy on a leash dreaming of the hunt.
You created these idiots, you know who you are. Raising little man or the queen as an insurance policy for your inept drive. Perpetrating parasitic behavior as love so you can sleep at night knowing someone will pretend to care. You raised a pariah dressed as a prom queen or king who either rules or destroys every poor unsuspecting soul unlucky enough to be in their court.
We see you. We know your motives and we don’t text SMDH, we just drive in another lane and turn the radio up louder in case you decide to yell our way. You destroyed family, culture, and society with that caustic cooch, or psychotic swag. You trapped baby daddy’s and baby momma’s like lizards underneath discarded pieces of tin. Then pulled their tales off so you could watch them lose their balance and become victims of stray cats.
Now I drive slowly through the mourning fog as sunlight shines through broken glass illuminating salvaged vehicles and smoldering plywood. Blood stains and oil soak the asphalt with the same weight. Wet smoke rises from torn clothing and plastic water bottles like the frenzied perfume of an unfortunate lover.
Feral parenting got us here. The narcissist and the enabler copulated in a green screened room. Their computer generated delusions have them wiggling their toes in dog shit believing their posting photos of flip flops in the sand. We see you and the innocent offspring you flipped into some twisted sister or running nosed bastard strung out on meth you got prescribed because they interfered with your delusions. You did this.
I’m not casting stones, I’m throwing boulders. I ain’t got all the answers, but I’m smart enough to know the questions are more important, but you gotta care about more than yourself to ask questions that have meaning. We let you out from under those rocks, so now we gotta deal with you. You’ve had your moment. You can talk shit when you’re old about “back in the day”, but we’ll be here to shine a light on how you crawled out of that puddle of oil and water believing you were posting a photo at the beach. You can bet on that!
Blissfully accepting to a fault. I told you to fish in another pond. When all your boyfriends are one dude, it’s time for the mirror. I know it hurts to contrast, but you needed to take time to reflect. Time to let that beautiful soul shine, but you masked it by surrounding yourself with dysfunction.
I felt the sorrow of your past. You wore the abandonment like a scar. You never really had a chance. Your fathers wings only landed you further from the truth. The truth that children should be loved, not set aside as an unspoken truth. I felt the weight of that sadness in each of your smiles.
Your tattoos and stories weaved a web through our lives. A cautionary tale of letting your heart fly like a kite in a summer breeze is dangerous. I pray those feathers take you to heights you can smile down from.
Your love for those boys kept you breathing. Never blinking, never judging, ever patient in your hope for more. Your search for family almost complete. Tears drop singularly like a path to nowhere now. And the search has been passed on.
And now the roaches come out of their misery to feed on the scraps of memories to be part of your story. Irony is cruel sometimes. You would see right through it, but gracefully play along for just that one moment that was true. Don’t worry you won’t be forgotten.
I’ll have great stories for your boys when I see them, and their older. Together we’ll laugh and smile at how your personality was big enough to keep struggling through all the disappointment. All those folks who, through silence or shame, took a piece of what otherwise could have been a beautiful spirit.
I would have never told you any of this when you were here. You accepted me with all my demons. You reached out to us through all yours. We reciprocated and now it’s gone. I’ll miss your smart ass, but I promise I won’t let you become why.
I’m alone now as you would figure. I refuse to play with your life as if it is a drama. I’m gonna miss you and all those times when we all had our shit together that we just didn’t quite make it to. All I can do is write these tears away until I arrive at that place where our memories are smiles.
I’ll mind my tongue around those folks clinging to your adventures so they can be part of something bigger than theirselves. I’ll forever ponder the irony of your thoughts, and how they came true, just not like you dreamt. I love you “woman”, and hope you found your forever family.
I’m not poor I’m not poor. I value the struggle that reveals life and all it’s gloriously humble moments. I love that hunger makes any food taste good. I love the blissful moments created by pain. I bathe in the luxury of small things that suffering provides. Most of all, I see the weakness within power that chokes men on their own vomit.
Maybe the blinding nature of opulence isn’t so appealing. I would much rather see progress than greed, or shake a reassuring hand than a potential fist. You can’t hold wealth, it holds you. Sure, you may have fists full of dollars, but what do you really have, just paper with someone else’s name on it. I hold dirt, but it’s mine.
Power is the real satan. Power swallows intentions, good or bad, and twists it into greed. It takes over and suddenly your trying to control everyone as a metaphor for personalities frayed and the consumption of all, but in the end it’s always an allusion. Eventually you shrivel into other folks perception and your lying naked and exposed in a desert with no where to hide.
Within is a space to be cultivated silently. Void of the torrents surrounding your physical being. Protected from the timeless tyrants tearing at your souls like fanged apparitions. The danger is becoming a victim or a mirror image; protection from within lies just behind the blind eye.
Seeing these demons frees your self to live. Riches or poverty are two sides of the same coin that blind the soul. You’re free to exist and cultivate the space within. This is where the riches of life sparkle and the power of you emanates as a shield against you and your enemies. Here, poverty is a blessing.
I’m thinking about these current turmoils and tryin to make sense out of nonsense. Although it’s obvious that what is happening today is perpetrated by politicians, pariahs, and perpetrators, it’s a learning opportunity. It’s a chance to highlight history and make folks further understand how great our country is.
I’m not the one to coddle attention seeking behavior. It’s clear as day that just creates a dysfunctional co dependence that serves no one. While we have to acknowledge folks feeling, we don’t need to be taking advantage of their dissonance.
I’m a white older man, so by default I don’t have a say. Luckily I don’t believe that. I build things for a living. I ain’t off the grid yet, I’m closer to under the radar. When I’m building things I understand that the foundation of what I’m building is the most important part. If my foundation is not sound, my finish product will be junk.
It’s like that with life. We all have problems along the way. Money, marriage, children all challenge our ability to solve problems. Finding the origin of our problem is very important. We do that by talking, even if it’s a little uncomfortable. Most functional people have experienced that satisfaction when you let go of your stress or anger and worked a problem out honestly with a wife, a friend, or co worker. At the very least you understood where each person was coming from and agree to disagree, or even better, compromised.
In public forums this is a lost art. Folks just spout out examples, dig up statistics that are available for any side you choose, and devolve into idiots “super posting”, which is the equivalent of screaming. In most cases if the origins are against your side your racist. Most folks don’t even understand the difference between race, ethnicity, and culture. So you have idiots skipping the origin using the wrong terminology.
I’ve use this example before. You can be intelligent enough to structure a dissertation that’s perfect, but if your thesis is the comparison of how high dog fleas jump compared to cat fleas, you’re probably not to smart. And yes, that was an actual topic. You gotta do a little work to have an educated opinion, and most folks don’t have that kind of training, they rant emotional non sense.
I ain’t tryin to keep anybody outta the conversation. You just need to be open to listening and responding in a manner that’s civilized if you want an outcome with positive results. I’m not sure many folks want that though, it seems that many folks believe their side and their self are one. At that point you’re not productive.
There are a myriad of sub cultures that ascribe to certain ethnicities. The race is sometimes an issue. Like Christian groups, there is a color line in many white and black churches. The Muslim groups that don’t allow whites. Even the Jews, who’s race and ethnicity create a segregated culture. Non of these groups are a race.
Within all of these groups there is a segment that is poor. Poverty is one of the common denominators involved with American dysfunction. If you’re poor, you’re gonna have more contact with law enforcement. If you’re poor you’re gonna have schools that aren’t as well funded as others. If you’re poor your food source isn’t as healthy. The list goes on.
You raise a kid in a poor environment living these truths without a father, or two parents, and it’s a recipe for disaster. Doesn’t matter what ethnicity, race, or culture, it’s not a good outlook. That’s not to say you can’t be poor and your kids make it to another socio economic class. Some folks live in poverty and the kids do fine, provided the parents are involved and attentive.
We’re missing these conversations and focusing on the results of these phenomena. We aren’t focusing on what the culture around us is teaching kids, we’re reacting to the product of this dysfunction like a single parent raising “little man”. We aren’t asking the tough questions of family structure and parenting, we’re feeding the delusions of subsets of cultures so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings. Honesty about the origins of our problems is a starting point, not a view point.
Chasing ghosts of the past is like tryin to grasp smoke, you end up with a handful of nothing. We’ve let the politic destroy our common sense. We go through this same shit every election year. Politicians rely on this ignorance because it will propel them, along with their culture, one step closer to utopia. If you’re blinded by this you’re just a mouthpiece for your own oppressor.
Heaven Heaven is where your heart meets the horizon on either side of a day. Awaken with joy and travel to relief as the sun sets. It’s here where memories warm the soul as your body recovers from the heat of the day. It’s the space between the conscious and the subconscious where thoughts are sorted. Enduring the heat of the day the sun creates pictures of oppression. The shade of a tree brings comfort. At the end of the day as your eyes fade the tide turns, and feelings create pictures setting your spirit adrift. This is where souls are nourished or tortured, a cross roads of reckoning. Those precious seconds where the sun rises or sets and rays of hope or dread emanate along the horizon reaching to the sky. Where your understanding of your place on earth is nowhere and everywhere at the same moment. It’s in between that breath, those seconds where heaven is you. Sit quietly and understand your pulse connects you to the world. Feel the beat of our hearts pounding like the surf. Close your eyes and imagine the horizon, then open your eyes to the reality they’re not the same. Heaven is two places till you close your eyes for the last time, then it’s all you dreamt it could be.