Sunday, November 12, 2017

An Act of Revolution.

An Act of Revolution. At the age of 43, I performed a revolutionary act today. No, it's not steeped in leftist politics that I’m used to. But it was a simple thing for me to do...very simplistic. I have a naked lip… I shaved As an actor we play our parts, we learn our lines and hope that we don’t stumble and mumble on the stage. But the stage of life! The lines that we recite are not written on paper. “But we are given them!” I say...staring at the brown-skinned man looking at me through the mirror. We are given lines to perform through life's myriad acts that we find ourselves in. We don’t come through unscathed! “But I have a scar though something that was not my fault!” I say...you're given lines to recite… ACT ONE SCENE ONE Setting: Elementary school playground Stage left: enters the kid that uttered the phrase ‘flatnose’ Stage right: enters the recipient of the phrase. Close up on the kid who receives that phrase for the first time in his young life. Register the look of stoic bewilderment on his face. Center Stage: Enter the kids' grandmother of whom he told. She hugs her young son and told him that ‘I love you, Robert’ ...she loved me. But I did not believe her. All those words became seeds that were planted in my young heart and mind… The weeds choked out the wheat! Though various acts and in various scenes words like that were played out. Actions were translated to words… ...you’re really not wanted… I love you Robert ...you're a faggot!... ...you're going to Hell... I love you nephew!... ...you're a nigger… ...you're too fat… ...you're not good at sports… ...why can’t you be more like your father?... I love you, Robert, you're worth being around… During that season..the negative won over the positives. The pain was too great, so I hid as best as I could! I hid in my room as a kid. Humiliations endured… Friends none… I never tried to stop those lines running in my heard on a daily basis, because I did not know how to. Slowly, ever so slowly life circumstances began to change. Though stops and starts I got a new script...but the new lines I could not seem to say and recite them. Vestiges of the past were with me...we cannot seem to escape them. My mustache was the glaring reminder. It was grown to hid the reminder of who I was. Every time I looked at that brown-faced, flat nose, nigger-boy in the mirror, I fell under the shadow of shame, and denied myself even trying to recite a new script… However, enter the last five years of my life… Changes have been made… New thoughts… New feelings and ideas. New locations...new opportunities... But new losses… The last one to die was the final page being read and closed, the final chapter of the old book. My friend Ryan... Mama… Jason… Dean… Mrs. Young… Wes… Their past lives were interwoven throughout that book. How precious were those strands of silver interwoven throughout my life that has lead me through these pages. Yet my mustache remains. The fear and shame still palatable The night ends..my journey continues. The day comes...newness arrives New family masquerading as friends arrive, my lessons are learned. The baby food is consumed, I’m ready for meat now. The shifting has occurred. The new book, of a new life and a new script. The old shame is gone...it’s power removed. The final act is needed. I shave...with tears in my eyes I shave with the echoes of the playground scene comes up...I shut that book, determined not to read those lines...not to accept those lies about me. I shave to no longer hide my scar, I display it like some scarlet letter...it’s now precious to me. I look in the mirror, To the brown-skinned man whom I’m becoming more comfortable with every day. ‘Hello’ I say to him ‘I see you...and you’re beautiful!

Friday, January 6, 2017

11-8-2016.


(This poem was inspired from a Shape Note song called Babylon is Fallen) 11-8-2016 Hail this day so long expected, Hail this year of full release. Trump's walls shall now be erected, And his watchmen publish peace? Through the Shiloh’s wide dominion, Hear this American loudly roar, Clinton is fallen, is fallen, 'tis fallen. Clinton is fallen she'll rise no more!! All of Wall Street stands with wonder, 'What is this that has come to pass?!' All her followers in gold clad sandals Crying, “Oh alas, alas.” The hidden thunder sounds so distantly Hiding Swifted Doom for sure The Queen has lost the kingdom she sought so feverishly, Clanging on the distant shore... Swell the sound, ye kings and nobles, Say your with her to the end. Priest and people, rich and poor; Has rejected her corrupted sins. The House of Clinton is fallen..is fallen!!. The House of Clinton will rise no more. Blow the trumpet in Mount Zion, Christ may come a second time; Ruling with a rod of iron All who now as foes combine. Wall Streets garments we’ve rejected, And our fellowship is o’er, Clinton is fallen,shes is fallen, shes fallen Clinton to rise no more. The House of Clinton is no more.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Paris, November 13 2015

Paris, November 13 2015 When you find yourself blasted by the heat and staggered by the dreading drum beat of hate. Remember your hope. When all is cold, and all is seems to be laid on a deep cloke of darkness. Remember the day. When all life seems to be blasted by the hot winds of division...shriving up your garden of life. To be consumed by the flames of violence. Remember the rain. We have overcome, surly we shall overcome! Be not afraid of dark, the dark will seem to encase you..but the light will pierce it! Be not afraid of the tide of hate...it may seem to sweep all before it. But it shall have its waves broken down by a wall of love. The wildness of injustice may have its day, wreaking havoc on the innocents. But love shall tame it and it shall have the final say! LIGHT SHALL ALWAYS OVERCOME!!

Sunday, March 22, 2015

An Ode for Spring (2015)

Ode for Spring. Although winter has officially ended I seemingly unmarried stand unattended. Waiting and wanting my lovers embrace once more. The North-man winds still bounding and with his strong will he binds my heart his strength is astounding! But my heart longs for my true love, throughout his shrill gray storms. Dare I speak his name? Like some talisman of old will that new hope seep in my veins and uplifting my heart for brave and for bold? Zephyr--the west wind comes and my heart rises. For the Northman's winter breaks from my heart at last. And the memory of winters wearying grinding-despices of trodden hearts, Zephyr breaks the fast!

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Never.

I will NEVER be the beautiful gay man I will NEVER have six pack abs. I will NEVER have the perfect nose, mouth or teeth. I will NEVER have enough money. There will ALWAYS be people who will NEVER take me seriously... That's ok.... You know what?.. I HAVE been LOVED! I KNOW people who find ME attractive. I KNOW just how BEAUTIFUL my SOUL is. I HAVE something to GIVE to people. PEOPLE LOVE ME! I'm now LOVING MYSELF The rest are LITTLE THINGS...that can or cannot be changed... That's ok... I have been LOVED I can LOVE People can and have accepted my LOVE That's ok... I'm growing in every single WAY!

Friday, October 5, 2012


Takk Fyrir. For Ingolfsson. On looking at the words that he wrote for himself. On looking at the words that he told me. I am…he is…who am I? Who am I to hear such words speaking when his life goes creeping…among that wayward shore. Who am I to wonder…if this ‘Ice Man’ should be humble. To sing to me his life’s long score Should his loneness be punctuated by siren call incorporated? –into of emotional goals shroud the twin tottering towers that guard his valley floor? Beauty! Yes High Beauty Devine. Ensuing his Lifes Glory Devine. Because of what is hidden must be made known. Though rock and ice…water, fire and stone made known. Grinding, molding and groaning. Iron strikes iron hot. Love strikes the world cold. ‘ You shall not go alone to your own bones’ Your bones they be white and hard—buried beneath flesh and lard. Strike not this “Ice Man” on that long shore today. ‘Let me be with him!’ Lord I pray. Two and three willingly be one. I pray that you stay along your Path il lumated by the sun . If our path that’s quixotically twain’d allotted time runs its course. Let me say to the fathomless world… Let me say to Love unfulfilled… Let me say to Life unlived… Let me say to those eyes—full of youth and wisdom. “Hear this ‘ Ice Man’ whose shorn by his own will from north lands ancient. To wonder fruitful and peacefully to lands hither and yon. Bendiction. May Grace and Beauty clothe your skin! May they reveal the glory that you have within! You ‘Ice Man’ of whom wisdom will shine. Whose feet is put on a path that’s inspired Devine!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Today.


In the Morning I wake
I wash my face.
And I say to myself…”today-yes today will be a good day.”
I hear whispers, and still I’m determined to have a good day.
I prepare myself for a day of living.
I say to myself in the morning as I wake… Today-yes today will be a good day.

The sun travels across the sky, hot. Birds sing lazily in the maple trees.
I say this in the morning as I wash my face.
Today-yes this day shall be a good day.

The sun rises and the whispers advance the day.
My heart quickens, and they fade.
I say as I wash my face.
Today will be a good day.

During the long afternoon heat, in the height of summer the whispers die and in a sigh of relief I say as I wipe the sweat off my brow.
“Today will be a good day” I say.

The sun begins its rest in the western plain, the birds start there short summer nap.
And as I wash my face and hands…
I say…”today was a good day.”


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