i am real.
how differently would you treat me
if you discovered i was the product of rape.
now tell me. should i really believe
that i made an abortion escape.
i don’t know the seed that planted me.
neither the soil.
but i was born.
i am living. i am
was it a date? a one-night stand?
the curiosity. starts to thicken.
a fling? an experiment? with a boy and a girl –
at fifteen years-old? a king – and his mistress?
was it Winnie Hollman – and Jack Nicholson?
maybe satan on hallow’s eve. it was october
when i was conceived.
enriched now to say. we must obey these days.
eliminating a baby isn’t only murder. it’s crippling
to the mother. it’s hardening to the heart. it’s parting
from the start. never saying hello. never seeing
your star glow. oh man…
i don’t know.
i must have whispered inside the tunnels within.
it’s not the end.
i’m not finished.
the echo made it’s way.
—it’s mark. in the dark.
the light. a spark.
there’s never a right time
to say good bye. but when
we know. we gotta go.
and stray our own way.
just to make sense of this.
whether we know what it is.
people do it all the time. people
doing what’s right. why do we fight
the truth. a choice saved my life.
i am living proof.
i just want to stare at you.
and compare you to.
what i see in the mirror.
then fear would subside. but
so many questions arise. and
only one answer resides.
real is what you made me.
my life is what you gave me.
so to you
i give all my gratitude.
are two heads really better than one?
completely subjective. umm, objection
your honor, this is the journey of a stray cat.
dwelling in places you wouldn’t be caught at.
ever wonder what that man is writing
while he’s watching the world go by.
ever ponder the fact that he’s alone
while you’re busy planning your time.
everyone wants to live a different life.
but a day will come to question what’s right.
live by the knife. die by the thing you call “I”
what happens now? can i survive?
befriending everyone. and scaring a few.
alone is just a word when there’s everything to do.
only if they knew who lived in the skin of this cat.
dwelling in the shadows, where it’s straight black.
that fuzzy ball that everyone ignores.
the sensitive animal that no one knows.
you think i’m alone. you got it all wrong.
in the rain, when the sun shines. i’m gone.
that’s me sleeping on the park bench, when
you barely peeped your eyes over the fence.
this life that im living and writing is hardly dence.
because i’m constantly striving for independence.
i lay my head to rest wherever i want.
i eat leftovers from the best restaurants.
i had company in my mother’s womb and
i’m not growing up to live in a convalescent home.
prepare your deceptions for a little disappointment.
beware of this stray cat because his mind is potent.
Yes, little man?
“What was that?”
“It sounded like a gun.”
Go to sleep, little one.
¿Sí, mi hijo?
*SOUND OF A TRAIN*
“¿Donde está mi hermana?”
She’s in heaven. Her destination came – before her journey could begin.
Es bedtime, mihijo.
[A minute. sixty seconds. pure silence. reflect.
This life. roll the dice. gamble without making a bet.]
“What’s the future generation?”
I don’t know. That depends on you, the decisions you make and where you go.
Are you going to step up and lead the pack or choose to go with the flow and follow?
I can tell you what will happen tomorrow. And the next day.
Someone is bound to sell you something you’ll just throw away.
You’ll get loads of advice. to go. to stay. The road to success. How to get paid.
But I say — it’s not my choice. Just listen to God. And his way.
His plan is far better. He layed out the lives of you and your brother.
His plan for me has proven to be dependent on him in order to be your father.
Our future is a dream. But, it makes our minutes turn to moments.
I know it seems, that we’ll be forever bound to this apartment.
But we look forward to the food that nourishes our bodies.
We look toward each other with pleasure and enjoy what God sees.
We love one another. And others. With big hugs and kisses.
And when we’re tired, we know we have a place to rest.
This is what i know. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I always thought in two-thousand and seven, we’d be flying around in little spaceships.
But we’re still human. Still loving. Still beings. Still falling into relationships.
There are things. Tons of things, son. Things below. Things above.
But only one thing — really brings joy… It’s whole-hearted love.
Don’t forget who you are. Even when your feet are bare.
It can’t be helped. Come push. Come shove. You, my son, are the future.
Are you still awake, son?
Now will you tell me what the past is?
“Whoever was just shot, well, that was all that they got. They have nothing left.
All the life they lived only lasted up til now. That is the past. And i know
you don’t know where you came from – the place you were born.
Your bloodline is lost. You’re hurt, dad – that must cost a fortune.
It’s ok that we’re not rich. With all the toys. Our life is just fine.
We’re the invincible princeboys. I don’t need Direct TV.
I really enjoy peanut butter and jellies. Just come here. Sit down.
And talk to me.
My past is only seven years deep – but it feels like thirty.
Because everything you are – has been instilled inside me.
Our past was a minute ago. A moment committed to our memory.
I pray every sunday that one day I will be just like you.
I’m glad you decided to have me and not run like most kids do.
I couldn’t go anywhere and know the feelings i do.
I wouldn’t know where to go if it weren’t for you.
If you left I’d be crushed but my strength would push, all that is shoved to me,
every futuristic perception i see. My weakness would rush with anxiety.
Dad, I need my past. I need you. I love you. Don’t leave me.”
road rage. is like a homemade bird cage. you trapped yourself. thoughts wrapped tight. clinched with a belt. you can’t breathe. you can’t feel. all you do is just blow steam.
what’s wrong with this world that we are living in. the resistance. stronger than our own beliefs within.
dave, my neighbor.
i found him sitting next to the safe. with his gun. but in this case. the empty bottle of jack won.
why do we do this to ourselves. and why was he there for 4 days before anyone noticed? it’s not all relative. put that shit back into the book where you found it. and look around.
it’s tolerance. that turned the twin towers to dust. is it really OK to form a religion that way? to create a god around your pleasures for the day? comfort. right? wrong. mind.
the worst law is that of the wayward views. by defining what’s right for you. it differs within a group. all these rules and debates. get deeper and deeper. buried. rest in peace. against the stakes. living off People magazine. and Newsweek. where’s the rules? why are we ignoring the universal truth?
easier said than done, i suppose. maybe for someone, but not this one. you know, me! it just comes naturally. i mean, come on, someone has to relate to me. someone without enemies. please. we need to worry about the six-year old kids. who go with their parents to watch horror flicks. and on the 6-o’clock news. stories of oral sex and booze. teenage marriage. these are the things i’m scared of.
executing men and persecuting christians. that’s the least of my worries. it’s a feast on the weak. when sixteen-year-old girls are cutting themselves. to hide the pain. with their very own blood stream.