Good morning world! I know I’ve been absent for a while, but my life has been undergoing some changes that I needed to focus on completely. Also, I didn’t have anything to say and I’d rather not post than post a bunch of bullshit. You deserve better than that. So let’s get into what has brought us together today. I know most of you read the title and started asking yourself, “What kind of message can he have for us?” Well, here it goes…
In past entries, I’ve made a big deal about the fact that I’m in my 30’s (I’ll be 32 this year) and I’m still single and childless. After careful consideration and reflecting upon my own upbringing, I consider this to be a blessing. After all, my father was 34 years my senior. Let me explain why I say that…
My father was and, in some ways, still is my role model. If you have been following along, you know the kind of relationship me and my father had. For those that are new, let me fill you in. I spent the vast majority of my life with my dad. For most of early life, he was the only parent I had. Now while I missed having my mother in my life (our relationship is still a little awkward), I feel that my father did an excellent job of instilling in me the skills I would need to be the kind of man that I should be. I was taught how to be a gentleman. I learned how to dress myself. I was given an excellent example of how a man should be able to adapt to any situation he is thrown into.
Now like every child (especially boys), I thought my dad was full of shit and rebelled against the lessons that he was trying to teach me. And just like every other child that was raised by an ADULT, my resistance was met and my rebellion squelched.
Once I reached a certain age (right before my 13th birthday), my father sat me down and talked to me about what life as a young man was gonna be like. After he shared that piece of knowledge with me, he imparted 2 rules that were laced with some very powerful advice. The first was don’t bring any children into his house unless I was ready to move out because only adults should be having children. The second was don’t get in any trouble with law and expect him to bail me out because if I was adult enough to commit the crime, I should be adult enough to suffer the consequences. I had mixed feelings about him saying that to me. On one hand, I was happy to be given the freedom to do just about anything I wanted. On the other hand, I was afraid of screwing up in such a way that my father would leave me to my own devices. I knew if that was to happen, I would most certainly be up shit’s creek without a paddle. That’s not to say that I didn’t think that my father wouldn’t be there for me if I was to stumble or make a mistake, because I knew he would be. Looking back on it, I think I didn’t want to do anything that he wouldn’t approve of.
Over the next 5+ years, I tested the boundaries of this newly gained freedom. I was promiscuous throughout middle school and high school, I drank, I stayed out late, I did everything that I could think of except for anything that I thought my dad would frown upon.
Once I reached 19, I noticed that my relationship with my father changed once again. We were more like friends instead of parent and child. I could go to my father with my concerns and issues and not get lectures and instructions, but advice on what I should do. This was huge to me because I was at an age when I was really trying to step out into the world on my own and see what life had to offer. And while I felt like I had the tools to survive, I knew I had an excellent resource in my father to draw knowledge from. His advice and the example he set proved to be invaluable to me, even to this very day.
Now, I don’t want to make it seem like my dad was perfect or some kind of parenting guru. He made his mistakes, just like any other human being. He worked too much throughout my adolescence and young adulthood. At times, he seemed to be completely disconnected from my life. He found it hard to express his emotions. But when I examine his shortcomings alongside the lessons he instilled, I have the perfect example for the kind of man, husband and father I want to be.
I say all of this to make the point that while I’m not completely pleased with where I am in my life, there are certain aspects that I am satisfied with. I’m reasonably healthy, I’m free and I haven’t put myself in any situation that I can’t get out of.
So that brings me to the message that I want to share…
To all the young people (under 18), enjoy being a child. Don’t be in such a rush to grow up. Because once you do, you can’t go back. Take this time to have fun, act like an idiot, be carefree, learn as much as you can, make mistakes, get in some trouble, but just make sure that you don’t go too far. All in all, be a kid! Don’t put yourself in situations that are meant for adults.
To my brothers, we gotta do better. Our women deserve better from us. Hell, we deserve better from ourselves! Let’s stop misusing, abusing and tearing our women down. Quit putting our women in situations that they don’t belong in. Quit laying down with women and making babies you have no intention of taking care of.
To my sisters, y’all gotta do better. Know your worth, you’re a queen and deserved to be treated as such. Quit allowing yourself to be mistreated, subjugated and dehumanized. Love yourself before you expect somebody else to love you. Quit giving yourself to these guys that you know you have no future with and making babies. You’re the givers of life and love and that shouldn’t be taken lightly, remember that.
And one final piece of advice for everybody…
Let’s stop allowing other people to dictate and define our lives. Let’s quit playing right into the stereotypes and generalizations that others have for us. Be the exception and not the rule. If enough of us do that, then the exception will become the rule. We have to be the ones to set the example for those that follow us.
I originally wrote this almost 3 years ago to the day and decided to make it an annual recurrence after last year’s post. So, since we just celebrated the coming of another New Year, here’s goes my third go at full disclosure…
1. I grew up as an only child and am JEALOUS of people who have siblings. I always have been and probably always will be. But if I had the choice to have siblings when I was a child, I don’t think I would really want them. I loved my childhood (for the most part).
2. I’m still probably one of the shyest people you will ever meet. I’ve been like that for years, but I’m better about approaching women now than I used to be. I still have my moments when I find it hard to speak, though.
3. I’m originally from Kansas City, MO but consider Atlanta, GA my hometown. It’s a long story as to why. Out of all the places I’ve lived, and the list is pretty long, Atlanta is the first place I felt like I fit in. I feel awkward when I go back to MO to visit.
4. I’m still secretly insecure about my looks, which is why I love to go shopping. I always figured I could make up for not being the most attractive man if I was the best dressed. Its also one of the reasons I got tattoos.
5. I’m smarter than most people think I am. I have an IQ of 163 but got bad grades in high school because I was bored to death. I even taught one of my classes for a month. And that experience made me want to be a teacher. That’s until I saw how much they get paid…
6. After careful review, I realized I’ve only been in love once, and have only had 4 serious romantic relationships in 30+ years of living.
7. I believe nothing is more important than family, but I avoid the vast majority of the members of my family like they have the plague. Its because I really am a creature of habits, and I spent a large portion of my life without them. So, I’ve got used to being without my family. I am trying to change that, especially since I’m approaching the point in my life when I want to start a family.
8. I don’t have a lot of friends. And the friends I do have, I consider to be family. In all honesty, I love them more than I love my real family. Which isn’t to say that I don’t love my family, but I love my friends more.
9. Speaking of friends, most of my friends are female. I’m not too sure why, though. But it has led to my sexuality being questioned on numerous occasions.
10. I lost my father to cancer on September 7, 2007. If you knew me prior to his death, you know the kind of relationship we had. I took his death a lot harder than even I had initially realized. Since he passed, my life (my approach to life in particular) hasn’t really been the same. But, as of my 30th birthday, I’m starting to feel like the “old” me again. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing though.
11. I love to write and have been writing since 1995! I actually have cried because I had writer’s block. I can honestly count on my hand the number of people that knew that!
12. I was originally left-handed, but my mother made me learn how to write with my right hand. I never asked why, but I think that is by far the dumbest thing I have ever heard of. But because of that, I’m partially ambidextrous. It’s weird.
13. I’m an alcoholic. I’m not a full-out, fall down drunk or anything like that, but I’ve struggled with alcoholism since I was 13. That’s why you’ll never see me have more than 3 drinks if I’m out somewhere, unless something is seriously bothering me. In that case, you might wanna drag me away from the bar.
14. I’m afraid of growing up, which keeps me from being able to commit to anything serious. But at the same time, I’m afraid of not progressing in my life. Which is why I’m prone to become frustrated by being single. I think single life is for people under the age of 25 and sociopaths. I’m neither.
15. I love hard and fast. I can tell within a few social encounters what kind of feelings I’ll have for a woman. And once I fall for her, my feelings don’t go away easily. If she doesn’t feel the same way, I usually cut off all communications just to spare my feelings.
16. My nickname is Moses, but you would be surprised by who started calling me that. It came from the pastor of a church that I attended when I lived in Denver, CO. He said he could sense that I had the spirit of a great leader. That was almost 15 years ago and while other people easily recognize that attribute of my personality, I’m still waiting to see it.
17. I’m seriously claustrophobic! I can’t even ride in small cars without getting really nervous. So if you ever are on an elevator with me and I get quiet and grab the rail, that’s why.
18. I really want kids and have felt that way for about 8 or 9 years, but I’m scared to death at the same time that I won’t be a good father. That fear has kept me from fully committing myself to a relationship so far.
19. I’m really lazy, unless I’m working towards something that directly benefits me. That’s the main reason why I want to open my own business. I don’t want to work for anybody else, I’d rather be my own asshole of a boss. There are other reasons, too. Ask and I might tell.
20. I originally got tattoos as a conversation starter. But now, my tattoos have taken on their own significant meanings, especially the one on the lower part of my upper right arm. Its my father’s nickname (Chief) in Arabic. I plan on getting more in the very near future. I’m thinking about getting one covered up, though.
21. I’m really old fashioned, to an extent. I don’t believe in having kids out of wedlock, and I only want to get married once. I think that (along with some other factors that are mentioned above) has kept me from settling down or just running out and having a baby.
22. I don’t really like to talk about the things that are bothering me, but I try to give clues as to what is wrong. Only the people that really know me are able to pick up on them, though.
23. I really am a nice guy! I adopted my “asshole” persona in high school. It was my way of dealing with being rejected by a girl that I was head over heels for. Over the years, I’ve mellowed out but I still have my moments when I can be a real jerk. I’ve always said that one day I would drop the facade altogether, and I think that time has finally arrived.
24. I’m deathly afraid of hospitals. It all stems from my father’s death. I recently had to go to the hospital to have surgery and I cried like a baby. They had to medicate me just to get me to calm down.
25. I’ve decided to go back to school, not only so that I can get my degree but I also want to join a fraternity. I’m really self-conscious about that decision, though. I’ll be 31 (going on 32) when I start taking classes and I haven’t been in a classroom in over 10 years.
26. My birthday is Omega Psi Phi’s Founder’s Day and my dad was an Omega. But when I was in high school and thinking about going to college, I wanted to be a Kappa. The first time I said it to my dad, he punched me in the chest. When I go back to school, I wanna pledge Omega Psi Phi just for him.
That’s all I want to share for now. But in the meantime, if you have any questions, just ask. I don’t bite.
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the “unalienable Rights” of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: “For Whites Only.” We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest — quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification” — one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day — this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
Good afternoon world! How was your New Year’s Eve? I hope you had fun, did everything you wanted to do and drank all that you could handle. If you didn’t, I’m sorry to hear that. Better luck next year. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “How can he be reflecting on a day that’s only just beginning?” That’s easy and this time the answer isn’t asinine. Today’s topic has been on my mind for the past few days, but I wasn’t exactly sure if I wanted to put it in the universe and risk the potential backlash that could follow. So, I sat on something that was burning a hole in my heart until I could find a way to express myself without causing any kind of problems.
I know you’re probably on the edge of your seat, so I’ll get right into it. First a little back story…
I’m an asshole, through and through. I’m one of those people that just doesn’t give a damn what you think, feel or have to say. Especially if it has to do with me. I’ve been known to tell people exactly what I think of them at the very moment that I’m thinking it without my heart skipping a beat. But, I’m not completely heartless. There a select few people in my life that have my ear on everything and I care very deeply about their opinions. These are the people that I think know me the best. They have the ability to call me on my bullshit, even when I don’t recognize it. I turn to them for advice on just about every subject. If they ever needed me for anything, I would drop whatever I was doing to be at their side. These are the only people in my life that I would be willing to lay down my life for. I LOVE these 4 people almost as much as I love myself, sometimes more. There are only 4 people that hold this distinction and I would be devastated if I ever lost any of them. Case in point, there were 5 at one time and one of them died. I haven’t fully recovered yet. The funniest thing to me is that none of the remaining 4 people are related to me, but I consider them all family.
And that brings me to what has my mind and heart twisted in knots right now…
It may just be my perception of the situation, but my relationship with one of the people that is closest to me seems to be a little icy as of late. And while I try to put on a front like it doesn’t bother me, its slowly eating me up inside. And if it couldn’t get any worse, I consider this person to be my best friend. I’ve know her for most of my adult life and she’s probably the one person that knows me best. On top of that, we live together. So it feels weird to walk into a room that she’s in or her to enter a room that I’m in, and there’s no interaction between us whatsoever. I’m not sure if this tenuous situation is the result of something that I’ve done or if our friendship is deteriorating. But it irks the shit out of me. Especially when she’s known for telling me exactly how she feels exactly when she feels it. So I’m left over-analyzing what I think is going on. Not a good look.
That’s all I got for today. I thought I was in more of a sharing mood, but I guess not. So until next time, peace and love…
Good afternoon, good people! I hope this entry finds you in good health and even better spirits as we are finally at the end of 2011. For some reason this year has felt like it was long as hell! But I’m glad to say that I’m here to see the end of it and look forward to bringing in 2012. I know this is so cliche, but I feel like 2012 might actually be my year. I’ve had a hell of a time just surviving the past few years. So its got to be my time to shine, right? I hope so because I’m not sure if I can go through another year of living my dreams. Usually this would be the time that I would start thinking of a lengthy list of New Year’s Resolutions, but I’ve realized that that’s just a waste of time and energy. Let’s be honest, how many of us really hold strong to our New Year’s Resolutions? I don’t know about you, but I tend to forget about mine by Martin Luther King Day. So what’s the point? So this year, instead of making up a list of shallow, meaningless goals that I’m gonna forget about before the end of the month, I’ve decided to make a list of New Year’s Re-commitments. Basically, I wanna continue to do the things that I’ve been doing, but I want to try to do them a little better. I know you’re curious as to what is on my list, right? Well, read on. They’re all explained below…
I want to continue to progress towards finding a balance between the person I was and the person I want to be. Its no secret that my father’s death 4 years ago left me as a shell of myself. But, I never realized how far removed I am from MJB circa 2007. I was lighthearted, jovial, social butterfly that felt like the world was mine for the taking. More recently, I’ve felt like I’m a little too jaded to have that kind of eternal optimism. I need to get that back, that bright-eyed, energy that made me feel like I could do anything I want. But at the same time, I need to refocus myself on the things I have passion for. I’ve allowed myself to stray away from the things that bring me the most joy. I think that’s what has left me staring off into space, wondering why I’m afflicted with writer’s block for such lengthy periods of time.
I want to make more of a concerted effort to let the people that mean the most to me know how much they mean to me. I tend to find that I isolate myself from those that matter most. I don’t necessarily have a valid reason for doing this, but it has become my modus operandi as of late. So, consider this my official apology to those that I love and that love me. I’m sorry for being so distant, I promise to do better. I love you all and I swear I’ll do my best to make sure you know that.
I want to find love this year. Let’s make sure we’re clear on this. I’m not saying I want to get married before December 31, 2012, even though it would be nice if it happened. All I’m saying is I want to find someone that I can share that kind of bond with. I think its one of the major pieces missing in my life. When I sit back and think about it, I haven’t been in a serious, committed relationship since 2008. That’s a long time! Especially when it wasn’t a designed or self-imposed removal from the search for love. I will admit that for a period of time, I did pull myself off the market purely because I needed time to try and reconnect with who I was and am as a person. That’s still a process that I’m going through, but I’ve come to realize that its going to be an ongoing project. There’s no need to keep to myself. Also, I notice that the people that I find myself attracted to don’t always reciprocate those feelings, and the people that do find themselves attracted to me aren’t what I’m looking for either. Which is kind of strange, because I don’t really have a certain type of woman that I pursue. But I refuse to settle just because I want to settle down.
This is more of a resolution than a re-commitment, but I need to go see my father. I haven’t been to my father’s grave since October 2008. I told myself that I would visit him on his birthday every year. But, for one reason or another, I haven’t been able to do it these last 3 years. The last time that I attempted to, I freaked out on the highway and almost wrecked my rental car. But, my best friend has promised to go with me (she actually threatened me if I didn’t go), so I will be making that trip sometime in March. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it. Part of me wants to go, wants to go see my family, hang out in the city I was born in (because I don’t consider Kansas City my hometown but that’s a story for a different time) and visit people that I haven’t seen in a while. But there’s a part of me that dreads having to go to the cemetery, stand over his grave and deal with all the emotions I have about his death. If I can barely bring myself to talk about them from 1000 miles away from him, how am I gonna handle standing inches away? My inner asshole, which I’ve been told is more of my outward personality than I care to believe, thinks its going to be an interesting trip. I guess we’ll see in March, huh?
That’s pretty much it. Those are the 4 things that I feel are vital to my personal success in 2012. Hopefully, I won’t forget about them by Valentine’s Day. So until next year, be safe. Peace and love…
Good evening good people. I hope today’s entry finds you in good health and even better spirits. I knew I wanted to write a new entry today but I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to write about until I spoke to a friend and she clued me in of her decision to confess her feelings for a mutual friend. I figured if she could make such a personal and intimate confession to one person, I could easily spill my guts to whoever feels like they want to read my rantings. So, without further adieu, here we go…
I’m completely conflicted by my feelings about holidays. One part of me is nothing but a big fucking softy and loves everything that holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving are supposed to represent. I love the idea of being around my family, enjoying their company and basking in the abundance of love. Then there’s the bitter jaded side of me that hates the commercialization that the holidays have endured over the last couple of generations. I think a part of that comes from spending so much of my life around retail. Working in retail will destroy anybody’s holiday spirit. But I think a major part of it comes from not having my own family. Christmas is geared solely towards kids. I’ve always said that I believe that I’ll be more into holidays when I have kids. Its kind of hard to muster Christmas spirit when Christmas doesn’t really differentiate from any of the other 364 days in the year.
I’ve been single for the better part of the last decade. While that was by design when I was in my early 20’s, I’m starting to think its karma getting back at me as I’m journeying deeper into my 30’s. I made a lot of really fucked up choices when it came to how I treated women when I was younger. Before you jump to any conclusions, I didn’t do anything that could be deemed incredibly horrible, like physically abusing a woman. But I was very flippant with the way I handled women’s hearts. I’ve always been a charming man, even when I battled being shy as hell. I just think that I let that charm run amok, cause some unrepairable damage and quite possibly cost me a few very good chances at being happy. So now, I find myself learning my lesson the hard way. And I HATE it! I’ve never been a jealous person because I’ve always felt that I could go get anything that another person has if I really waned it. But now, i look around and see that some of my closest friends are experiencing things in their lives that I’ve been dreaming about for years and all I can do is watch from the outside. I kind of feel like an orphan walking past a house and seeing a family sitting in the living room. As bad as I want what I want, it doesn’t look like I’ll ever have it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond ecstatic for my friends and I’ll never let my personal feelings erode the love and excitement I have for them. But for as geeked as I am for them, I’m equally depressed when I reflect on my own situation. It makes for strained conversations on my behalf. Its hard to not show my true feelings, but I want to make sure they know that it has nothing to do with them. Its purely my own issues that are kicking me in my ass. If you guys are reading this, I love you more than you know or I show and I really am happy for you. And that lets me perfectly transition into my next confession that has a little bit of back story to it…
I’ve been single since 2008. Since then, I’ve had quite a few friends get married. I’ve always found a way to skip the wedding because of my own personal problems until recently. At this wedding, I was coerced into participating in the archaic tradition of attempting to catch the garter belt. Anybody that knows me, knows that would I normally balk and protest this with every fiber of my being. That wasn’t entirely true this time around. Of course, I put a fight to save face. I couldn’t look like a complete punk. But I found myself wanting to catch the garter because I feel like I need every piece of luck, old wives’ tale and superstition I can get on my side right about now. So when the garter was (finally) thrown into the (very) small crowd of single men that were in attendance, I found myself thinking of it as if it was a football. And if you’ve ever seen me on a football field, you know what my mentality is like. Needless to say, I caught the garter. I still had to keep up my front and pretend like I was upset, but I was back flips and cartwheels inside. I’m not exactly sure if its more because of my competitive spirit or the fact that I’m ready to end this romantic drought that my life seems to be stuck in for the last 3+ years. My ego wants to believe its the former, but I’m leaning more towards the latter.
I have issues dating single mothers. This is nothing new in my world, but my reasoning behind is a little different now than it was before. Previously, I didn’t want to date a single mother because I was an attention whore. If there wasn’t the potential for me to be the focal point of a woman’s life, she was fated to be another in the long line of sexual partners I’ve had in my life, or at best, a friend. Of course, I never told a woman this because that would greatly diminish my chances of sleeping with her. But the thought was always floating around in the back of my mind. As I’ve gotten older, I have made some exceptions. Those relationships all failed, so I never felt compelled to let go of my disposition against single mothers. But I have evolved my thinking on the subject. While I still would prefer to date a woman that doesn’t have any children, my reason is one that I’m more comfortable sharing because I’m quite sure I won’t get slapped for it. I know you’re wondering, “What’s this new reason he has for not wanting to date a single mother?” Well, I’ll tell you. I’m now at a point that I’m looking to settle down and start my own family and I would prefer to do that with a woman that would be a first time parent, like me. Also, I’m afraid of injecting the drama that might accompany a woman with a baby’s father into my life. But like most things in my life that I want, I know the chances of finding a single woman that I want to be with that doesn’t have children is very slim, I’ve established concessions in my philosophy.
That’s pretty much all I can think of right now. Plus its 3 in the morning, I probably need to try to lay down and get that resembles something kind of like sleep. So, until next time, peace and love…
Every year after Thanks-giving, most people’s thoughts turn to Christmas. It is the time when professing Christians are supposed to focus on Jesus Christ. After all, it is the “Christ-mass” season!
Christmas is thought by most to be a wonderful time, focusing the participants on giving, family togetherness, beautiful music and decorations, feasting on special foods and singing Christmas carols throughout the neighborhood (as my family did every year). All of this is supposedly centered around the worship of Christ. Surely the Bible instructs us to do all this right?
The answers will shock you!
Why do people think that Christmas is wonderful? Most never reflect on why they believe what they believe or do what they do. We live in a world filled with customs, but few ever seek to understand their origin. We generally accept them without question. Most people basically do what everyone else does because it is easy and natural!
Let’s carefully examine the roots of Christmas. Let’s look at why people follow the customs associated with it. Why is it kept on December 25th? Did the early New Testament Church keep it? This article is filled with facts from history that, when placed together, paint a complete picture. Let’s avoid all assumptions and only accept what can be proven!
Pagan Origin
In 1990, the Solon, Ohio (a Cleveland suburb) school board banned all nativity and other Christmas scenes on any school property because they felt it violated the separation of church and state. They were challenged in court when outraged parents opposed them, feeling that Christmas was being stolen from their children and the community. The board lost the case! The citizenry had contended that Christmas was a worldwide tradition that was not part of, and transcended, religion. It was deemed to be secular a part of virtually all cultures worldwide.
The court decision affirmed that Christmas has no Christian roots! However, the court’s opinion also noted that bible reading and prayer obviously are associated with Christ-ianity a remarkable admission! The court concluded that Christmas-keeping and manger scenes could remain because they are not really part of either Christianity or religion but prayer and Bible reading, which are, must remain excluded from schools!
Nearly all aspects of Christmas observance have their roots in Roman custom and religion. Consider the following admission from a large American newspaper (The Buffalo News, Nov. 22, 1984): “The earliest reference to Christmas being marked on Dec. 25 comes from the second century after Jesus’ birth. It is considered likely the first Christmas celebrations were in reaction to the Roman Saturnalia, a harvest festival that marked the winter solstice the return of the sun and honored Saturn, the god of sowing. Saturnalia was a rowdy time, much opposed by the more austere leaders among the still-minority Christian sect. Christmas developed, one scholar says, as a means of replacing worship of the sun with worship of the Son. By 529 A.D., after Christianity had become the official state religion of the Roman Empire, Emperor Justinian made Christmas a civic holiday. The celebration of Christmas reached its peak some would say its worst moments in the medieval period when it became a time for conspicuous consumption and unequaled revelry.”
Consider these quotes from the Catholic Encyclopedia, 1911 edition, under “Christmas”: “Christmas was not among the earliest festivals of the Church the first evidence of the feast is from Egypt.” Further, “Pagan customs centering around the January calends gravitated to Christmas.” Under “Natal Day,” Origen, an early Catholic writer, admitted, ” In the Scriptures, no one is recorded to have kept a feast or held a great banquet on his birthday. It is only sinners (like Pharaoh and Herod) who make great rejoicings over the day in which they were born into this world” (emphasis mine).
The Encyclopedia Americana, 1956 edition, adds, “Christmas was not observed in the first centuries of the Christian church, since the Christian usage in general was to celebrate the death of remarkable persons rather than their birth a feast was established in memory of this event [Christ’s birth] in the fourth century. In the fifth century the Western Church ordered the feast to be celebrated forever on the day of the Mithraic rites of the birth of the sun and at the close of the Saturnalia, as no certain knowledge of the day of Christ’s birth existed.”
There is no mistaking the origin of the modern Christmas celebration. Many additional sources could be cited and we will return to this later. Let’s begin to tie some other facts together.
It was 300 years after Christ before the Roman church kept Christmas, and not until the fifth century that it was mandated to be kept throughout the empire as an official festival honoring “Christ.”
Can Christ Be Honored by Christmas?
The most common justification that one will hear regarding Christmas is that people have replaced old pagan customs and intents by asserting that they are now “focusing on Christ.” I have heard many say that they are “honoring Christ” in their Christmas-keeping. The problem is that God does not say this is acceptable to Him! Actually, He plainly commands against it! Keeping Christmas dishonors Christ! He considers everything about it to be an abomination! We will soon see why.
Christ said, “But in vain they do worship Me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men” (Matt. 15:9). Christmas is not a command of God it is a tradition of men. Christ continued, “Full well you reject the commandment of God, that you may keep your own tradition” (Mark 7:9). Every year, throughout the world, on December 25th, hundreds of millions do just that!
We will see that God plainly commands, “Follow not the way of the heathen.” But most people do not fear God, and He allows them to make their own decisions. Human beings are free moral agents free to obey or disobey God! But woe to those who ignore the plain Word of God!
Was Christ Born on December 25th?
Christ was born in the fall of the year. Many have mistakenly believed He was born around the beginning of winter December 25th! They are wrong! Notice the Adam Clarke Commentary, volume 5, page 370, New York edition: “It was custom among Jews to send out their sheep to the deserts about the Passover [early spring], and bring them home at the commencement of the first rain.” The first rains began in early-to-mid fall. Continuing with this same quote: “During the time they were out, the shepherds watched them night and day. As the first rain began early in the month of March-esvan, which answers to part of our October and November [begins sometime in October], we find that the sheep were kept out in the open country during the whole summer. And as these shepherds had not yet brought home their flocks, it is a presumptive argument that October had not yet commenced, and that, consequently, our Lord was not born on the 25th of December, when no flocks were out in the fields; nor could He have been born later than September, as the flocks were still in the fields by night. On this very ground, the nativity in December should be given up. The feeding of the flocks by night in the fields is a chronological fact See the quotations from the Talmudists in Lightfoot.”
Luke 2:8 explains that when Christ was born, “there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.” Note that they were “abiding” in the field. This never happened in December. Both Ezra 10:9-13 and the Song of Solomon 2:11 show that winter was the rainy season and shepherds could not stay on cold, open fields at night.
Numerous encyclopedias plainly state that Christ was not born on December 25th! The Catholic Encyclopedia directly confirms this. In all likelihood, Christ was born in the fall! A lengthy technical explanation would prove this point.
Since we now know that December 25th was nowhere near Christ’s actual birthdate, where did the festival associated with this date come from?
Now read this quote under “Christmas”: “In the Roman world, the Saturnalia (December 17) was a time of merrymaking and exchanging of gifts. December 25 was also regarded as the birthdate of the Iranian mystery god Mithra, the Sun of Righteousness. On the Roman New Year (January 1), houses were decorated with greenery and lights, and gifts were given to children and the poor. To these observances were added the German and Celtic Yule rites when the Teutonic tribes penetrated into Gaul, Britain and central Europe. Food and good fellowship, the Yule log and Yule cakes, greenery and fir trees, gifts and greetings all commemorated different aspects of this festive season. Fires and lights, symbols of warmth and lasting life, have always been associated with the winter festival, both pagan and Christian” (Encyclopedia Britannica, 15th ed., vol. II, p. 903).
A final quote about the selection of December 25th as the birthdate of Christ is necessary. Note an article in The Toronto Star, December 1984, by Alan Edmonds, entitled, “We owe a lot to Druids, Dutch”: “The Reformation cast a blight on Christmas. By then, of course, clever ecclesiastical politicians had adopted the Pagan mid-winter festival as the alleged birthdate of Jesus, of Nazareth, and thrown in a few other Pagan goodies to make their takeover more palatable.”
December 25th was not selected because it was the birth of Christ or because it was even near it. It was selected because it coincided with the idolatrous pagan festival Saturnalia and this celebration must be carefully examined. In any event, we do not know the exact date of Christ’s birth. While God certainly could have made it known, He chose to hide it from the world’s eyes!
What About Santa Claus?
Parents reason that they owe the whole Christmas myth to their children! Christmas traditions are focused primarily on kids, and they are certainly the center of most of what happens. I know because I kept seventeen Christmases. My older sister and younger brother and I were the recipients of much and the givers of very little on that day and it all started with the Santa Claus lie.
Some years ago, a priest in New Jersey told his Sunday school class that Santa was a myth. The outrage from parents and his supervisors was swift. He had “killed Santa!” He had “destroyed family tradition!” He had “usurped family authority,” the article continued. He was officially censored by his superiors for being “overzealous and insensitive.”
His crime? He told the truth!
According to Langer’s Encyclo-pedia of World History, (article “Santa”), “Santa” was a common name for Nimrod throughout Asia Minor. This was also the same fire god who came down the chimneys of the ancient pagans and the same fire god to whom infants were burned and eaten in human sacrifice among those who were once God’s people.
Today Santa Claus comes from “Saint Nicholas.” Washington Irving, in 1809, is responsible for remaking the original old, stern bishop of this same name into the new “jolly St. Nick” in his Knickerbocker History of New York. (Most of the rest of America’s Christmas traditions are even more recent than this.) “Old Nick” has long been recognized as a term for the devil.
In Revelation 2:6 and 15, we read about a “doctrine of the Nicolaitanes,” which Christ twice tells His Church “[He] hates.” Let’s analyze the word Nicolaitane. It means “follower of Nicholas.” Nikos means “conqueror, destroyer.” Laos means “people.” Nicolaitanes, then, are people who follow the conqueror or destroyer Nimrod. If you have believed that following Christmas is an innocent Christian custom, let this truth sink in!
Is It Scriptural to Exchange Gifts?
Merchants regularly report that over 60% of their annual retail sales occur during the Christmas shopping season. This represents a tremendous amount of gift buying. Most today believe that gift-giving comes from the Bible example of the “three wise men” (the Bible gives no number) presenting gifts to Christ. Is this true? Where did exchanging gifts come from, and what does God’s Word say about it?
The Bibliotheca Sacra states, “The interchange of presents between friends is a like characteristic of Christmas and the Saturnalia, and must have been adopted by Christians from the pagans, as the admonition of Tertullian plainly shows” (Vol. 12, pp. 153-155).
Like every other aspect of Christmas, the shocking truth is that even this supposed Christian custom does not come from the Bible. It is an irony that people love to believe they are following the custom of the wise men giving to Christ, when actually they are giving almost exclusively to each other! What hypocrisy! Christ is completely forgotten.
The Bible actually teaches that Christians should not keep birthdays. Numerous scriptures make this principle clear. (Read our article “Are Birthday Celebrations Christian?”) However, what if you went to a birthday party that had been prepared for you and everybody gave gifts to each other and you were left out? The idea is ridiculous! If this happened, you would say that people were being selfish and forgetting you. In fact, most people give to others on Christmas merely because they expect to receive gifts themselves!
Let’s briefly return to the “wise men” who gave gifts to Christ. The scripture describing this is Matthew 2:1-11: “Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, Where is He that is born King of the Jews? And when they were come into the house, they saw the young Child with Mary His mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto Him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.”
It is commonly supposed that these were birthday presents for “baby Jesus.” But is this what the Bible actually says? Absolutely not! First, it is important to note that they did give the gifts to Jesus. They did not stand in his presence and exchange gifts among themselves or give them to others. The gifts were “presented unto Him.” Also, they arrived well after his “birthday.” This is another reason these could not have been “birthday presents.”
A long-standing, ancient custom of the East was to present gifts when coming before a king. These men understood they were in the presence of the “King of the Jews.” The Bible carries many examples of people sending gifts to kings or presenting them upon arrival into their presence. This custom is common today when ambassadors or others come into the presence of a world leader.
Finally, notice what the Adam Clarke Commentary, volume 5, page 46, states about what really happened on this occasion: “Verse 11. They presented unto him gifts. The people of the east never approach the presence of kings and great personages, without a present in their hands. This custom is often noticed in the Old Testament, and still prevails in the east, and in some of the newly discovered South Seas Islands.” Gifts were customarily presented to kings.
What could be more plain?
Origin of the Christmas Tree
No article about Christmas is complete without some explanation of the “Christmas tree.” We have touched on it without directly focusing on it. The modern Christmas tree originated in Germany. But the Germans got it from the Romans, who got it from the Babylonians and the Egyptians.
The following demonstrates what the Babylonians believe about the origin of the Christmas tree: “An old Babylonish fable told of an evergreen tree which sprang out of a dead tree stump. The old stump symbolized the dead Nimrod, the new evergreen tree symbolized that Nimrod had come to life again in Tammuz! Among the Druids the oak was sacred, among the Egyptians it was the palm, and in Rome it was the fir, which was decorated with red berries during the Saturnalia!” (Walsh, Curiosities of Popular Customs, p. 242).
Frederick J. Haskin’s Answers to Questions states, “The Christmas tree is from Egypt, and its origin dates from a period long anterior to the Christmas Era.” Did you know this that the Christmas tree long preceded Christianity?
Most aspects of Christmas are not referred to in the Bible. Of course, the reason is that they are not from God they are not part of the way He wants people to worship Him. The Christmas tree, however, is directly mentioned in the Bible! Turn to Jeremiah 10:2-5, “Thus says the Lord, Learn not the way of the heathen For the customs of the people are vain: for one cuts a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not. They are upright as the palm tree, but speak not: they must needs be borne, because they cannot go. Be not afraid of them; for they cannot do evil, neither also is it in them to do good.”
This plain description of the modern Christmas tree is clear. God directly refers to it as “the way of the heathen.” Just as directly, He commands His people to “learn not the way of the heathen,” calling these customs “vain.” Verse 23 adds a remarkable and powerful statement: “O Lord, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walks to direct his [own] steps.” God must teach people how to live. Man simply cannot figure out God’s ways for himself.
There is no room in Jeremiah 10 to believe, as some have tried to suggest, that because these trees are powerless of themselves, it is not really forbidden to have a Christmas tree. God condemns the putting up of pagan (Christmas) trees with this plain Bible command!
The Source of Holly Wreaths, Yule Logs and Mistletoe
The Encyclopedia Americana states, “The holly, the mistletoe, the Yule log are relics of pre-Christian time.” In other words, paganism! The Yule log was commonly used in a rite of Teutonic nature worship.
Frederick Haskin further states, “The use of Christmas wreaths is believed by authorities to be traceable to the pagan customs of decorating buildings and places of worship at the feast which took place at the same time as Christmas.”
The Encyclopedia Britannica, under “Celastrales,” exposes the origin of the holly wreath: “European pagans brought holly sprays into their homes, offering them to the fairy people of the forests as refuge from the harsh winter weather. During the Saturnalia, the Roman winter festival, branches of holly were exchanged as tokens of friendship. The earliest Roman Christians apparently used holly as a decoration at the Christmas season.”
There are dozens of different types of holly. Virtually all of them come in male and female varieties such as “Blue Prince and Blue Princess” or “Blue Boy and Blue Girl” or “China Boy and China Girl.” Female holly plants cannot have berries unless a nearby male plant pollinates them. It is easy to see why the holly wreath found its way into pagan rituals as a token of friendship and fertility!
Christmas is incomplete to many unless it involves “kissing under the mistletoe.” This pagan custom was natural on a night that involved much revelry done in the spirit of drunken orgies. Just like today, this “kissing” usually occurred at the beginning of any modern Saturnalia/Christmas celebration. I will never forget having to always kiss my friends’ mothers upon entering each of their houses every Christmas. It was the first thing that we did. I hated it but it was something I “had to do”! Mistletoe was considered to have special powers of healing for those who “reveled” under it.
The Encyclopedia Britannica, under “Santalales,” states, “The European mistletoe is thought to have had special ritual significance in Druidical ceremonies and lives in folklore today, its special status as the Christmas mistletoe having come from Anglo-Saxon times.” Mistletoe is a parasite that lives on oak trees. (Recall that the Druids worshipped in oak tree groves.) The ancient Celtics (associated with the Druids) used to give mistletoe as an herbal remedy to barren animals to make them fertile. It is still referred to as “all healer” in Celtic.
Like mistletoe, holly berries were also thought to be sacred to the sun god. The original “sun log” came to be called the yule log. “Yule” simply means “wheel,” which has long been a pagan representation of the sun. No wonder people today commonly speak of the “sacred yule-tide season.”
What Should You Do?
Finally, let’s examine what God told His people they should do and the way they ought to teach their children.
Human beings do not want to obey God (Rom. 8:7). They would rather follow their own “imagination.” They do not understand that God wants their lives to go “well.” He wants happiness, joy and blessings to flow into people’s lives. All these are the results of obeying Him.
God inspired Moses to warn parents of the grave responsibility that they have in what and how they teach their children. Notice His instruction in Deuteronomy 6:1, 6-7, 20-21, 25: “Now these are the commandments which the Lord your God commanded to teach you, that you might do them in the land where you go to possess it And these words, which I command you this day, shall be in your heart: And you shall teach them diligently unto your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise up And when your son asks you in time to come, saying, What mean the testimonies, and the statutes, and the judgments, which the Lord our God has commanded you? Then you shall say unto your son, We were Pharaoh’s bondmen in Egypt; and the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand And it shall be our righteousness, if we observe to do all these commandments before the Lord our God, as He has commanded us.”
God took Israel out of Egypt out of the customs of the world around them and revealed His Law to them. He does not want His people going back to the traditions, customs and ways from which He has called them.
When all of the interconnected traditions, filled with the symbolism of worshipping an ancient pagan, humanly devised god, are taught, this is not worshipping the true Creator.
The prophet Isaiah was inspired to write, “Cry aloud, spare not, lift up your voice like a trumpet, and show My people their transgression” (58:1). I have done this.
On this day, four years ago, the world lost a great man. His death wasn’t mourned by millions of adoring fans because he wasn’t a celebrity. His untimely departure from this world wasn’t mentioned in the local newspaper because he wasn’t a public figure. Most of you have probably never heard of him. And very few those of you that have, definitely didn’t know him. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m talking about my father; Mr. Willis Jerry Coleman, or “Chief” as he was known to those closest to him. Today marks the beginning of the fourth year that I’m not able to see my father’s face whenever I want, hear his voice anytime I need someone to talk to or partake of his wisdom. And it still hurts.
For those of you that aren’t completely familiar with my relationship with my dad, let me see if I can put it into words for you. He was my protector and my provider. My best friend and at times, my worst enemy. He was inspiration. My loudest cheerleader and and my biggest detractor. He was both my hero and my villain. He was the source of my courage and the face of my fear. He was my measuring stick, my shining example of what a real man was and shouldn’t be. He was the best man I’ll ever have the pleasure of knowing.
So, here I am, a 30 year old man and still a scared little boy in need of his daddy. I find myself defiantly living my life because he’s not here to do the same. I’m still seeking his apporval in some way, shape or form. There are times I swear I can hear him talking to me, guiding me as he had my whole life. Those are moments that bring contradicting tears to my eyes. The mere mention of his name has been known to send me all over the emotional spectrum, from complete joy to utter dispair.
I haven’t been to his grave since he passed away, I just can’t bring myself to do it. Everybody thinks its because I’m selfish or I don’t care. That’s so far from the truth. I care too much, the pain of him leaving is still too fresh. I can’t bring myself to come to grips with the fact that a giant could die. If God could take my father, who was the strongest person I ever knew, what hope do I have of surviving? The obvious answer is none. But, here I am. Still fighting, still surviving, still trying to find my way in the world without my fearless leader. And while it gets a little easier everyday, I’m not sure I’ll ever be the person I was before. There’s a void in my life, a whole in my spirit, that I can’t seem to fill or close.
And what bothers me the most is that my children (whenever I have some) won’t have the honor of knowing this man that meant so much to me. They’ll never have the opportunity to sit in his lap or play with him. They won’t be able to listen to him rattle off stories of his days as a bullrider. They won’t be able to partake of his immense body of knowledge about a seemingly endless amount of subjects.
Below are 2 poems I’ve written about my father. I hope you enjoy them…
Little black boy, brand new in the world
Unaware of danger, his small body still curled
His eyes open wide, pretty and brown
Taking in his first view of all that’s around
His mom holds him gently, his dad promises to teach
And swears to the newborn he’ll always be within reach
This is how life should begin
Free from worry, untouched by sin
Same black boy, trying to find his way in the world
Amidst crime, temptation, his friends, drugs and girls
His eyes are still open, though weary and bloodshot
He sits back some days and dreams of being a robot
But he’s not, so he clears his mind by writing some rhymes
He’s good at it and it helps him deal with his issues at times
His mom’s gone and his dad’s health is kinda failing him
The young boy would do anything to have happy days again
Young black man, all alone in the world
Everyone is gone, from his dad to his girl
He tries to close his eyes to forget the pain he’s dealing with
Everyone tells him “Its okay” but he really isn’t feeling it
How can you lose your mentor and best friend
Yet not feel like your world has come to an end
But he pushes on and tries to stay strong
‘Cause in the end he knows they’ll meet again
The little black boy and his dad
This is the second poem…
To the left, to the left
I’m packing everything that was yours in this box to my left
Now that you’re gone, the going’s getting tough
And since I’m all alone, they don’t think I’m tough enough
Everyone keeps talking mess about me, that’s fine
They’re too dumb to walk and talk that shit at the same time
Since I spend most of my time looking real sad
All the fake well-wishers are praying that I do bad
Staring me right in my face, telling me I am such a fool
And that I’ll never ever be a man like you
These bitches got me twisted
Because what they don’t know ’bout me
Is that you’re the one who raised me
And that’s what helps me sing
“With the help of God, I can do anything”
To the right, to the right
Your nickname takes up space on my arm in plain sight
Looking at it helps me to go on
And I still hear your voice, even though you’ve been gone
That’s something I bet y’all didn’t know
The spirit of my father is with me everywhere I go
Since I spend most of my time looking real sad
All the fake well-wishers are praying that I do bad
Staring me right in my face, telling me I am such a fool
And that I’ll never ever be a man like you
These bitches got me twisted
What I want y’all to know ’bout me
Since you spend so much time discussing me
Is that I’m a prince mourning my king
And now that he’s gone, I gotta do my thing
My whole life, you were my everything
Without you, I would be nothing
That’s why I wrote this poem for you
I still shed some tears for you
Nowadays, I barely sleep
‘Cause the truth of the matter is
Moving on ain’t easy
To the left, to the left
I remember packing all your stuff in the box on my left
To the right, to the right
Your nickname takes up space on my arm in plain sight
So I don’t want you to ever think that you are replaceable
That’s all I have for today. I hope this serves a reminder to tell the people that matter most in your life how much you love them, because you never know when they’ll be called away. Now, I gotta go clean my face, I’ve been crying the whole time that I’ve been writing this. Peace and love…
Rest In Peace Chief. I love you…
Greetings world, or at least the handful of people that take the time to read my ramblings. I hope this blog finds you in good health. Once again, I sincerely apologize for the gap between my entries. I’ve been dealing with quite a bit lately. That’s not an excuse, but it is the truth. On to new business. I’ve recently decided that I wanna share my poetry on a (slightly) grander scale than I currently occupy. But, in doing so, I ran into a bit of a conundrum. What to start with? Should I lead off with, what I feel is my best piece or should I post them in chronological order to show my progression as a writer? Should I just pick a piece at random or ask those closest to me (that have taken the time to read my poetry) for their input? All of that back and forth with myself gave me a bit of a headache! So I decided to lead off with someone else’s work, the great Walt Whitman. Enjoy…
I SING the Body electric;
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.
Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves;
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?
And if the body does not do as much as the Soul?
And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?
The love of the Body of man or woman balks account—the body itself balks account;
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.
The expression of the face balks account;
But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face;
It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists;
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees—dress does not hide him;
The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton and flannel;
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more;
You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side.
The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women, the folds of their dress,
their style as we pass in the street, the contour of their shape downwards,
The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through the transparent
green-shine, or lies with his face up, and rolls silently to and fro in the heave of the water,
The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats—the horseman in his saddle,
Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,
The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting,
The female soothing a child—the farmer’s daughter in the garden or cow-yard,
The young fellow hoeing corn—the sleigh-driver guiding his six horses through the crowd,
The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty, good-natured,
native-born, out on the vacant lot at sundown, after work,
The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance,
The upper-hold and the under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding the eyes;
The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,
The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes suddenly again, and the listening on the alert,
The natural, perfect, varied attitudes—the bent head, the curv’d neck, and the counting;
Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother’s breast with the little child,
Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with the firemen, and pause, listen, and count.
I know a man, a common farmer—the father of five sons;
And in them were the fathers of sons—and in them were the fathers of sons.
This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person;
The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard, and the
immeasurable meaning of his black eyes—the richness and breadth of his manners,
These I used to go and visit him to see—he was wise also;
He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old—his sons were massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome;
They and his daughters loved him—all who saw him loved him;
They did not love him by allowance—they loved him with personal love;
He drank water only—the blood show’d like scarlet through the clear-brown skin of his face;
He was a frequent gunner and fisher—he sail’d his boat himself—he had a fine one
presented to him by a ship-joiner—he had fowling-pieces, presented to him by men that loved him;
When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or fish, you would pick him
out as the most beautiful and vigorous of the gang.
You would wish long and long to be with him—you would wish to sit by him in the boat,
that you and he might touch each other.
I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then?
I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.
There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well;
All things please the soul—but these please the soul well.
This is the female form;
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot;
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction!
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor—all falls aside but myself and it;
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, the atmosphere and the clouds, and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed;
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it—the response likewise ungovernable;
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, all diffused—mine too diffused;
Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb—love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching;
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice;
Bridegroom night of love, working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn;
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day.
This is the nucleus—after the child is born of woman, the man is born of woman;
This is the bath of birth—this is the merge of small and large, and the outlet again.
Be not ashamed, women—your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest;
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.
The female contains all qualities, and tempers them—she is in her place, and moves with perfect balance;
She is all things duly veil’d—she is both passive and active;
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters.
As I see my soul reflected in nature;
As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible completeness and beauty,
See the bent head, and arms folded over the breast—the female I see.
The male is not less the soul, nor more—he too is in his place;
He too is all qualities—he is action and power;
The flush of the known universe is in him;
Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him well;
The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is utmost, become him well—pride is for him;
The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul;
Knowledge becomes him—he likes it always—he brings everything to the test of himself;
Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail, he strikes soundings at last only here;
(Where else does he strike soundings, except here?)
The man’s body is sacred, and the woman’s body is sacred;
No matter who it is, it is sacred;
Is it a slave? Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf?
Each belongs here or anywhere, just as much as the well-off—just as much as you;
Each has his or her place in the procession.
(All is a procession; The universe is a procession, with measured and beautiful motion.)
Do you know so much yourself, that you call the slave or the dull-face ignorant?
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has no right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float—and the soil is on the surface, and water runs, and vegetation sprouts,
For you only, and not for him and her?
A man’s Body at auction;
I help the auctioneer—the sloven does not half know his business.
Gentlemen, look on this wonder!
Whatever the bids of the bidders, they cannot be high enough for it;
For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years, without one animal or plant;
For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll’d.
In this head the all-baffling brain;
In it and below it, the makings of heroes.
Examine these limbs, red, black, or white—they are so cunning in tendon and nerve;
They shall be stript, that you may see them.
Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition,
Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant back-bone and neck, flesh not flabby, good-sized arms and legs,
And wonders within there yet.
Within there runs blood,
The same old blood!
The same red-running blood!
There swells and jets a heart—there all passions, desires, reachings, aspirations;
Do you think they are not there because they are not express’d in parlors and lecture-rooms?
This is not only one man—this is the father of those who shall be fathers in their turns;
In him the start of populous states and rich republics;
Of him countless immortal lives, with countless embodiments and enjoyments.
How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the centuries?
Who might you find you have come from yourself, if you could trace back through the centuries?
A woman’s Body at auction!
She too is not only herself—she is the teeming mother of mothers;
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.
Have you ever loved the Body of a woman?
Have you ever loved the Body of a man?
Your father—where is your father?
Your mother—is she living? have you been much with her? and has she been much with you?
—Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all, in all nations and times, all over the earth?
If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred,
And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of manhood untainted;
And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is beautiful as the most beautiful face.
Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted her own live body?
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.
O my Body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you;
I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the Soul, (and that they are the Soul;)
I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems—and that they are poems,
Man’s, woman’s, child’s, youth’s, wife’s, husband’s, mother’s, father’s, young man’s, young woman’s poems;
Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears,
Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eye-brows, and the waking or sleeping of the lids,
Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws, and the jaw-hinges,
Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition,
Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the neck, neck-slue,
Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoulders, and the ample side-round of the chest.
Upper-arm, arm-pit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm-bones,
Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb, fore-finger, finger-balls, finger-joints, finger-nails,
Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-bone, breast-side,
Ribs, belly, back-bone, joints of the back-bone,
Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man-balls, man-root,
Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above,
Leg-fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under leg,
Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel;
All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your body, or of any one’s body, male or female,
The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean,
The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame,
Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, maternity,
Womanhood, and all that is a woman—and the man that comes from woman,
The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and risings,
The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud,
Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming,
Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening,
The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes,
The skin, the sun-burnt shade, freckles, hair,
The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body,
The circling rivers, the breath, and breathing it in and out,
The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward toward the knees,
The thin red jellies within you, or within me—the bones, and the marrow in the bones,
The exquisite realization of health;
O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the Body only, but of the Soul,
O I say now these are the Soul!
In My Own Words... 