Why did I beat you down with my words
with my swears and every curse
and every course
we traversed
until your curls, turned coarse
of course-
you’ve seen my worst
you’ve been the words
that I’d disperse
thwarting my hurt
I loved you first
I loved you for
your form and force
I hate you for
the roads you forked
my hearts a fort
It’s not your fault
You’ve broke my falls
I made you fall
I named your flaws
you gave your all
you gave me cause
I gave you scars
you answered calls
wrote me letters
hoped for better
to hold together
betrayal, I betrayed you
because I’m frail
despite my portrayal
my shell is hell
I’m sorry I failed
those 4 letters spelled ….
Mercy
PROS’dCON-science
What is it called when you search and search for something or maybe you’ve ran from it unknowingly but ultimately it was your end goal? The face of your biggest hope, the glow of your highest achievement, never knowing how to reach that feat, because everything you tried was wrong, so you feared the attempt. Somehow you gravitated further and further away while still grabbing at its air, masked as dreams. So what is it called when you finally get there, or at least close? When it becomes a real possibility, no more a wish fantasy or figment of imagination. What is that feeling you feel, that intense ray of light inside you, the invisible puppeteer pulling at the corners of your mouth, that enchanting anticipation when work becomes worth and a win. Though a slight nervous twitch wades the crevices of this hypnotic reverie because you are now aware of having something to lose again, after knowing so intimately what the plummet of loss feels and looks like…those abyss like caverns of emptiness. But who cares, because you are almost there, you can sense it, but patience isn’t lost upon your euphoric state, you know to be mindful and enjoy the process, to sympathize with its ebbs and flows. Is this why capture after pursuit feels so glorious? Is this the prized feeling of delayed vs instant gratification? Why is it that the wait builds the quality of the things we journey for and seek? Is it suspense, a building anticipatory momentum of promised possession worked for along with sacrifices endured? The cliché notion of ‘first times’ take on new meanings when lost times are attached, along with the dynamic contrasts of losing and leaving that love you lost…until ‘this’ feeling. This feeling…beyond all the descriptive reasoning, I understand it now, everything doesn’t have a certain sense to be made, some sense lies outside the paradigm of an explainable accepted norm..so I get it, this feeling garners envy, it’s what we all seek, not always clear-being the phantom we all chase. It’s not just an answer, but an understanding of something greater than self…this feeling is PURPOSE!!!
Six letters-the last two sound refreshingly like a dragged out exhale, ‘ahhhh’ (sigh or yell) either way feels good 😉
Don’t trust me
observe me
trust your eyes
Prose of a CON-fession:
Honesty isn’t the easiest policy when leaping out alone with no certainty of how it’ll be received. I feel I’ve been the up most honest about my past; I’ve worn it thick on one sleeve, with my heart beating on the other, but today it seems I may have left some things out. I had my first son May 12th, 2009 with the love of my life at that point. We were both young and knew nothing about love, and me, I was battling so many scars of my past that I hid because of my shame of what I went through and had seen growing up. Instead of deal with it, I covered it in my relationships, wanting to love and be loved, to have my own family. But my past horrors and fears surfaced in my own life because what I ran from, I soon became. I cheated. I lied. I screamed. I cursed. I called names. I kept score. I emotionally battered, physically intimidated and abused and mentally manipulated people. One of those people, my son Josiah’s mom. No, we both didn’t handle things well together, as people, parents and adults, but as a man, I hold most of that responsibility. I think time and time again of the moments I could’ve salvaged our family, but I didn’t. My son became apart of that mayhem with us living under the same roof. I try to tell myself I never hurt him but the truth is, I did, I hurt his mother, I broke our family, I didn’t fix what became unrepairable. How do you measure hurt on kids? Scars, I still deal with mine and I’m damn near 30! So in retrospect, him observing my behavior affected him in some way that I refused to acknowledge then until now. I also neglected him by waiting so long to try to reconcile the differences between me and his mother Brittney, believing time heals wounds, but it never healed mine. The things we tell ourselves to avoid facing ourselves, Nah I was just being a coward, afraid and ashamed. I’m sure many men go through these battles that keep them from reconciling issues, wanting to blame the other half as having some culpability, but it’s just deflection. Emotions seemed so weak. I wanted to portray strength, as many men do, but that bullshit show of testosterone is as pointless as women taking estrogen pills. I just might maybe have that opportunity to reconcile with her in some way, and I will be talking to her for the first time in so many years. I’m scared I admit, even ashamed to admit how long it’s been, another omission because I know it reflects on how long I’ve been away from my son. And all I want is what she is willing to give, no more, even if just pictures, I will Not try to speak of what I want, I’m OK with time and the process, but I admire her strength in being big enough to want to talk to me after all I put her through. I tried to keep from mentioning my son’s name for privacy, respect and mostly shame on the part of my first son. A result of this has made it seem like I love one more than the other or don’t care. How do you walk the line of respect and fear while trying to use your words as a platform for an emotional and truth outlet that may inspire others, but still withholding? I guess the problem was that if I have to question whether to withhold, then I have to confess more and stay genuine. It’s scary, I paint myself as a monster but I hope to be seen as any thing than, an inspiration for at least one person to heal and find strength in my story. I’m still learning, bear with me…I thought surviving wars and riots in prison was my toughest battle, but it’s really this…this moment I become more of a man, learning the lessons of a flawed absent father, and humbling myself knowing that my first great love has gone through more because of me, instead of me shielding him. Humble…that’s the word, when no extra words need to surface from the depths of fear, because fear clouds truth and reality. So, today I take my biggest leap and I’m ready to be beat down and disappointed, because it’s not about me, that’s what us parents get wrong, it’s never about us, it’s about our kids, so we shouldn’t hide our agendas, fears and pains inside of our children. Just as I still have questions for my mom, he will one day have questions for me. I’m sorry again Brittney, I’m sorry Josiah Henry-James Wardlow, I love you, and I’m a better man now, than that you ever knew. I can’t wait until I get that chance to love you the right way and be your dad that not only gave you half your genes but all your good looks, 😉 (Joking, your mom is gorgeous)..day-by-day.
I’m sorry if I ruined my image to anyone that reads this, but all truth isn’t glamour, and I started out not so pretty myself. But this is about making positives out of negative, beauty behind ugly, something deeper beyond makeup. It’s not easy, but Life, Forgiveness, Healing, Learning, Growing and Love, are all a process, and that’s the worth- Trust the Process and endure the setbacks and pains along the way. If you know any men hiding/hurting/healing the same way I used to…now you know. Women, men will never be as strong as you are, recognize that and communicate because we Never do like we should until a whole disaster lies at our feet. Face it, that’s real bravery, because running from emotions creates darkness and leaves you blind to the desolation in your wake, but running to them is a light that hurts your eyes, you may squint and hold up an arm, but at least you can see where each foot lands in your path, choice becomes clear. This or that way. No cul-de-sacs. No U-turns. Just sharp lefts and rights, because every direction but back, is straight ahead.
I tried.
No really,
I tried.
To avoid the truth
Run, or not run from you
Leaving black rose petals plucked in my wake
Sunshades
Tinting acknowledgement from suns rays
Instead of light I became, my son’s shade
Truth became gravity
Lies became hollow
Soil became regret
Not enough soil in my hollowed ground to feel the effects of my mess
Until gravity humbled me down to knees-now rooted, face soaking wet
The tears of a man blossoming to face his Black Rose flower beds.
New Journey
SuProsed2B-A-Con
Here we are, a new journey…I’m supposed to be excited, I am, but it’s a different feeling. After all, regardless how better, I’m still going to another prison, so many unknowns litter that road. You know your life sucks when your good news is the prison you left, only to head to another! FML! Will I meet like-minded dudes, see familiar faces, run into enemies, have a tolerable cellmate, or an older buff bald-headed institutionalized celly stuck in his own ways, prison cliché. (Yea, I got a buff bald headed one that looks like Clubber Lane/Mr. T, the odds? Either make him full or make him laugh, I choose the latter!) I’m the guest, that means top bunk, but comfortability and an understanding is a must as men; and these rooms are so small! My mom is across the street so seeing her may make the con’s, dissipate into pro’s, what can’t a mom make better? Oh! I forgot how green and lush trees and grass were, I’ve become accustomed to barren fields no trees and decrepit grass sprouting from the dirt like shy hair on a balding man’s scalp. Houses looked lonely without people, I forgot how life looked in person, I only had lasting movie images. The little things…dirt roads seemed more familiar and welcoming. Highways, businesses, and commuters all ignorant to the shackled man enroute to a new mansion! Lucky me! Ahhhh! This place has been nerve wracking, so much movement and space and people walking so fast coming up from behind not yielding any space, I’ve jumped clenching my fist ready to swing at least 4 times, and the people that have recognized me before I them…whew. I can’t go into too much detail, but not even absent years will resolve unanswered questions, so they became answered. This place is a mini safe haven for many who could not be on the yard I was just on, but still it’s prison, some have to save face and look tough, whatever you need to do to survive I guess, but me…I’m on a better path and beyond this, so once this cultural shock subsides and mini anxiety attack fades, I’ll be back to growing, empowering, and living My WayOfLife.
After midnight now, I’m watching the wind blow through this tree of my ground floor window view where earlier I watched a bird hop by…damn, how much I’ve missed. I can’t wait to experience my son at visit. Journeys.
Dear Woman
Dear woman
I fail to respect you
Dear woman
I’ve stolen your worth
Dear woman
I take you for granted
Dear woman
I basked in your submission
Dear woman
I lied for your good, to protect you
Dear woman
I just lied again
Dear woman
I am a parasite, I live because of you, not in spite of
Dear woman
I need more guidance than I’ll allude, I can never make my mind up
Dear woman
be my backbone, I’ll give you credit in bed
Dear woman
my role is cemented with me ahead
Dear woman
take one for the team
Dear woman
take care of our family and delay your dreams
Dear woman
extension of me, give me your hand
Dear woman
I’m sorry, forgive me, I’m such a man
SuProsed2B-A-Con: Do more than exist, Live.
We owe it to people to be open enough to understand them, not because everyone deserves to be heard, this is true, but what can you truly learn if you are so closed off and so woven into your own way. Life is about growth, evolution, and adaptation, all of which are stymied by a closed mind and a jaded heart which will only implant blockers on eyes and ears. The bravest thing you can do is not leap out there in assumptions of others, but jumping out there to understand yourself, so to better understand others. Fear factor, it’s discomforting admitting to self that you may be alien to self. So we all need to know in depth how we feel, how it controls the thoughts we conceive, the emotions that arise after which alters our behavior. We need to understand our own what’s and why’s so we can know how. Dare look at your fears and how they control your life and understanding. Fear, just like love, can be presented in many forms. In life, we should embark and embrace, not resist, because that is only a mere existence. Dare to know yourself, so you can know someone else and truly live by seeing the beauty of difference and the divinity of knowledge, only then can we really learn, teach and empower. Don’t assume, find out, enjoy the journey of discovery. So find the comfort in being uncomfortable at times. Teaching is learning twice, life ceases without knowledge. Do more than exist, Live.
I didn’t know what I didn’t know
now I know why I didn’t grow
I tried reaping what I didn’t sow
so, opportunities kissed me goodbye under a mistletoe
I try to right more wrongs than my pencil wrote
had to get comfortable knowing that erasing ignorance isn’t so blissful
I owed it to myself to listen and know more
I owed it to you, to listen and know more