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#21 #DadLife Entry 08.28.2017 10:53AM
I love you so many
Let me count the much ways
A thought for each penny
A grand for such praise
Much years i've watched you
Demonstrate so many growth
God blessed me like Hachoo
When there wasn't any hope
You're the light to my shadows
In so many darkness
Where much men have walked
You will run the farthest
The world is many better
When much come together
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#20 #DadLife Entry 06.23.2018 7:29PM
Father God
In name of Jesus
We live in world of over stimulation without the maturation
To decipher the difference between reality and simulation
Reality portrayed on television revealing the darkest depths of our hearts with a faulty explanation that is just how it is
Just how things be
Jesus be a fence between the darkness and me
Media becomes more social while we lose socialization
Skills once used for communication with
Replaced by impulsive communication at
No one is hearing
Nobody hears me
Everybody is angry
Suffering suffocation trying to breathe through concentrations of hurt begets hurt begets hurt begets pain begets hate burning cuts in the roof of our mouth like orange juice
Father God
Aren't you the one who promised us peace beyond understanding
I don't know how i'm standing
Loved ones longing for lost elevation where I failed them before becoming a new creation
Lash out in bitter whips like cuts to my femoral artery
As i fall to my knees in anguishing exsanguination
I plead to you, please
Give me peace
I mean thank you for peace
If faith is the key to the door to release the bountiful blessings you desire for me
Then my trust in you has set me free
So I as I beseech in desperation
I receive with great expectation
Worshiping you in celebration
For remaining the same with dedication
To me even when we give lackluster elation
Even already I feel your peace falling on me with no hesitation
Amen
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#19 #DadLife Entry 08.14.2016 10:26AM
Faith
The belief in the receipt of abundance
A more than enough
That if I give it all away
I still will maintain more than enough
Like love
If I love you selflessly
No matter how much or how little you love me
I feel love
Filled with love
With more love to give
The same with things
Even the most selfish know the power of giving
If I close my hand tight around my 10
My hands are not open to 100
So what of the 10 my may lose
And what if only 10 of that 100 would I choose
Well who wouldn't trade 10 old for 10 new
In this universe
Selflessness and selfishness may be the same
One give true power for the other to obtain
I give myself away
Emptying and stretching to receive more
I give my stuff away
Expecting to receive more
In faith
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#18 #DadLife Entry 11.24.2016 12:22PM
Of the 4th of July, Frederick Douglass said
"What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer; a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham;"
Likewise, of Thanksgiving I say
What, to the American Indian, is your Thanksgiving? I answer; a day that reminds him, more than all other days, that to the land he once freely roamed as his home, he is little more than a fetishized endangered species without protections given a wildebeest; a lauded mythology spoken of in past tense despite their presence. Their hollowed carcasses feathered and tarred, tattooed and scarred, bodies stacked on top each other and carved like totem poles, misplaced, erased, and marred; kindling shadowed in gunpowder and lit by a rifle blast; a bonfire encircled by dancing children, Black and white alike, mocking a people from nations of a thousand names, now forcefully framed into one they never claimed - Americans.
What, to Pocahontas, is your Pocahontas? I answer; on its face, little more than the bastardized nickname of the Powhatan "princess"Amonute.
What, to Pocahontas, is your Pocahontas? I answer; an Englishman's romanticized pedophilic wet dream of her daughter named after her; the worst nightmare she never dreamed as she died birthing her; the dream of a man who put a gun to her chief's head as he demanded corn; her daughter who would sacrifice herself for her people just to be repeatedly raped by her kidnappers soon after they killed her husband.
What, to Pocahontas, is your Thanksgiving? Surely there must be some significance I have yet to transcend to comprehend. Some existential connection wherein the Pohatan nation takes reflection on the bleeding,
I mean blessing
from Englishmen.
John Smith stole corn with a gun to their head so naturally we associate this with the breaking of corn bread. The breaking of bread amongst Native Americans,
I mean Natives,
I mean Americans
with righteous Pilgram settlers in barterdom, both striving to survive.
I mean, the celebration of the Pequot nation's annual Green Corn Festival being marauded by English and Dutch mercenaries so the colonists could feast in Thanksgiving of the 700 innocent men, women, and children they murdered.
I suppose the Euro-celabratory novelization of the rape of a Powhatan woman would be the most complementary accessory to the 'merca-celabratory fictionalization of the murder of the Pequot people.
So of Thanksgiving I say, to America today, what better way to celebrate than to watch Pocahontas?
Why not?
This is how I'd celebrate
With my children
After they've read this
The blood on both hands match.
So put them together as we pray.
In thanks.
Amen.
Now please pass the corn.
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#17 #DadLife 10.12.2016 10:47AM
"The glory of the young is their strength; the gray hair of experience is the splendor of the old."*
The invisible
Line wherein light meets shadow
Isn't black nor white
Thicker straighter vines
Sprout beyond onyx cotton
Like keepers of time
Eyes wider, seeing
More clear, yet out of focus
Knowledge born to die
Inevitable
Chronological gauntlet
Taunts in every tick
Haunting ev'ry tock
Bestows as much as it takes
The flower wilting
A transformation
Transference of created
To creating
Granting us wisdom
Navigating those with strength
The unlimited
Possibility
Guided by experience
Passing of the torch
The silver lining
Redecorating my hair
Hints of the words there
To speak to the future
Speak into existence
And create new life
From within the world
Ore among the skies
Ev'ry gray a gift to the wise
*Proverbs 20:29 NLT
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#16A #DadLife Entry 04.19.2016 11:21AM
I'm not touching this one.
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#16B #DadLife Entry 04.19.2016 11:21AM
Matter of fact
Why are you this way?
Why not say exactly what you have to say?
Why not ask me a question directly?
I'M THE ONLY PERSON IN THE ROOM!
How are you not old enough to spell "social media" and you're already throwing subs?
What Do You Want, Little Woman?
Don't you know I would do anything in the world for you and all you have to do is ask?
You're so Beyoncé but won't say my name say my name
But for Christ's sake, say my name
I use to think this was an anomaly
Something unique to the oven you were baked in
So maybe it's genetics
But not mine
Is this a double X chromosome thing?
Some feminine aversion to speaking explicitly when implicit tertiary references are available?
Is it so important to you that I volunteer for a task I don't even know needs a volunteer that you rather set up an alley-oop rather than take the easy dunk?
In either event
I suppose this lets your mother off the hook
This is apparently bigger than either of you
And your little sister will be this way too
This is three much
But except for a scenario where all three suddenly prefer to be direct,
It's up to me to build my empathy
Sometimes when you win, you lose
And sometimes when you lose, you win
So I'll volunteer to lose my sanity
And win your admiration and volunteer when I hear
"I need a favor from somebody"
I will jump from my chair
Cape around my neck and fists on my hips and declare
"Never fear. I am here. How may I serve you, my dear."
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#15 #DadLife Entry 08.15.2016 9:36AM
Just say no
Even when you want to say yes
Remember it is you who knows best
Though their crocodile smile is sweetest
It will bite you in the end
The flesh of your flesh behind their grin
They want you to give up before you begin
When the man in the mirror is your miniature twin
Who commits the first sin?
The monkey?
Like you
Monkey see monkey do
They see you as a sucker
Not a clue
You
Don't know
They say
no
They say
Don't know
You
Not a clue
Who doesn't know
They see you as a sucker?
The monkey!
Like you
Monkey see monkey do
Who commits the first sin?
When the man in the mirror is your miniature twin
They want you to give up before you begin
The flesh of your flesh behind their grin
It will bite you in the end
Though their crocodile smile is sweetest
Remember it is you who knows best
Even when you want to say yes
Just say no
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#DadLife Confession #2
I've had an abortion.
At least 1.
You may say
"How can you have had an abortion? Only a woman has the abortion."
"You may have told her to or went with her to but you did not have an abortion."
That's what she says
To which I say
When 2 people sleep together
"We had sex."
When a couple wants to conceive
"We are trying to get pregnant."
When a child is born
"We are parents."
When a slave owner, with no concern for the health of those humans he owns, even catches a cold, the empathetic enslaved says
"Massa... We's sick."
The type and amount of participation may vary but does not negate the "we".
We could've had a child
We chose not to
Even if sometimes she makes the decision for we
Who is she?
Doesn't matter
Knowing what I know now it could be 2 or 3
I have several friends who've had an abortion without telling their he so my conscious is certain I've known girls biblically who didn't tell me.
Without judgment, I've asked them, why not tell him?
"Conception was at the intersection of an ex lover and next boyfriend so I wasnt sure who the father was."
"I know he was in love with me but I was about to start university and he would've wanted to keep it."
"I didn't expect to see him again so I induced a miscarriage with gin."
I think I understand.
The conflict of doing what's best for them and not having their bodies dictated by men though knowing this may affect him.
But if soul ties
Tie the sharing of souls through the sharing of bodies
Then what's conceived, if not a conjoined soul, is still a conjoined body. So whether or not he knows it, a little piece of him died.
A little piece of me died.
Literally.
I foolishly named him after me.
She says she's the one who had the abortion, not me, I could never understand. I say she's right.
But I do know I carried the pregnancy test in my pocket for years.
That I see him everytime I look in the faces of my children when their faces look like mine.
That I think of him every time I think of how much I want a son.
That I think I may have had a son but my decision that I was not ready for the responsibility of taking responsibility for the life I helped begun may be the only reason I presently don't have one.
That the challenges of my firat born's health is possibly divine consequence for rejecting God's gift of my first knowingly conceived.
Do you know that I don't blame you for any of that?
That though you were in the stirrups, it's my stance that I was the one who stirred up our mixture of lust and erection without protection. Without wisdom. Without integrity, courage, or conviction to commit to giving birth to that from whence your pain come.
His ghost haunts me
But not to hurt me
He loves me when i'm lonely
We converse on the celestial
He mediates between me and the ancestors
They say they forgive me
It's time to forgive myself
But why should I let go when there are more lost souls of children I'll never know that even now I neglect.
And no matter what I confess,
Their mothers will always feel alone.
And consequently
So will I
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