Can’t Sleep…

*  * *

It was nights like this when I’d write. Bloodshot eyes, whiskey on my breath, and a joint in the hand to help me relax. I’m also typing this with my right hand. A few mistakes but well worth the few puffs I get in before the fire dies out. It’s 3:51 in the mornin’. I miss him like the heavens miss a fallen angel. You feel bad for it up until a certain point. The cats are fed and the dog is filled with poo. Can’t sleep, what am I to do? I made a mistake and prepared for the best, but in my own interest. This joint is working its voodoo. I’m tired now. Goodnight. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

You…

You are amazingly beautiful inside and out.

You are the perfect man women dream about.

Your charming good looks and welcoming smile

Opened the door of my heart and stayed awhile.

Your charisma and attention to detail make you one of a kind.

A modern man with old fashion taste make you purely divine.

A special rare one of a kind gem, they don’t make anymore.

Any woman who has lost you, didn’t know what she had in store.

Pardon My Excuses

Pardon my excuses, results of damage, post abuses.

I spent my last dime chasing that fast high.

 My conscience, a goody two shoes.
 
Constant battle, bad temper, short fuse.
 
There’s more than what meets the eye.
 
Years of issue wrapped up nice.
 
Closed eyes grant instant escape.
 
Temporary fix, short getaway.

Missed

The girls got a knife in her hand.

Just waiting while she sits, thinks, and ponders her plan.

Taking her life away she makes March 10th her very last day.

Missing out on her dreams and her plans, for a breakup over a silly young man.

He didn’t want her for her beautiful charm or the bracelet she would wear on her arm.

Not thinking she’d be devastated by this, in a soon moment she would be dearly missed.

Slitting her wrist just to get a taste of the pain.

She cries thinking she’s the one to blame.

All of a sudden she hears a knock at the door

“Go away!” She yells. As they knock on some more.

“Just give me a minute I’ll be out real soon.”

The clock was ticking to her approaching doom.

She takes four rounds to the head.

Stabs herself, falls near the side of her bed.

Looks unconscious, but she’s only dead.

None of her friends knew where her future lead.

She didn’t leave a letter, just a simple note.

Yeah it was real painful to read what she wrote.

“Never treat people like this, because you never know when they’ll be truly missed.”

Alive

Single-heartedly driven

no cure for it prescription.

Out of my mind,

mentally challenged,

but daily persistence.

My universe is different

no Einstein but gifted.

Decipher genetic code,

in my blood it’s imprinted.

Crucify the wicked,

all sin judged, no different.

We throw stones

claiming we’re the

righteously living.

My downfalls forgiven,

clean slate brand new vision.

Fighting not to survive

but to feel more alive.

Art of Perfection, What are we living for? Our Struggle to Greatness…

Daily I’m finding ways to challenge myself for more. When I start feeling comfortable with the way things are going I feel the need to create chaos. Why does life always feel like a race? Constantly we strive for perfection because the world says perfection is happiness. You need a good paying job to make more money so you can live in a huge mansion and drive a luxury car. That’s what life is about and that’s what’s going to make us happy. Right? We are flawed beings and that’s what makes us human. This never ending race for the “superficial happy life” is wearing me out. As I become more self-aware and honest with myself I am noticing that this concept of time is a limiting belief. We get so caught up in the future and what we want in the long run that we miss the present. I’m learning to live in the now and enjoy each day. Growing up in a very religious household played a big part on my journey to greatness. As a Christian I was taught that how we lived on earth determined whether we go to heaven or hell when we die. Knowing that my eternal fate depended upon the way I lived, I kept my focus on doing everything right  so I would go to heaven. I was living my life in fear  and not really living because I needed to be this perfect Christian. Now I know that isn’t the case. God wants us to live in the present and focus on today. He isn’t this disciplinarian who only sees black and white. How I live my life now will shape my future. This struggle for greatness is nothing more than an illusion that distracts us from the present. We need to get comfortable with being comfortable. I hope this message leaves you well and that you all get what you want out of life.

Writing 101: The Things We Treasure

For our final assignment, tell the tale of your most-prized possession. If you’re up for a twist, go long — experiment with longform and push yourself to write more than usual.

As a child growing up I discovered I had a love for collecting things. Everyone else had similar interests from playing sports, dancing, and going on camping trips. All I wanted to do was build whatever collection peaked my interest at the time. My collections stemmed from my fascination with rocks and gemstones, stuffed animals, porcelain dolls and Barbie dolls, Sanrio character memorabilia, grass hoppers (that didn’t last too long), treasure trolls, and my favorite, glow in the dark jewelry. I had so many prized possessions in all of my collections; I still have some of my collectors’ item dolls and rocks to this day. One year we attended my father’s annual Company Christmas party, which was something we never wanted to miss. The employees usually received complementary stays at various hotels or expensive gifts to thank them for all their hard work. The children would also take part in the gift giving; there was always a station to take pictures with Santa which included a present at the end. That year I was around seven or eight but I received the cutest, softest, and most adorable white fur reindeer stuffed animal. I was so in love with my gift that I took it with me everywhere I went (School was off limits, moms orders).

I called her Isha and wanted to love her forever and keep her as long as I could. Even when my mom thought it was time to hand over some of my toys to my younger sister or donate a few things I never passed on my Isha. When I started junior high I had to clean out my room and get rid of some of my childhood “stuff” as my parents would say. I bagged a lot of old items I didn’t care for anymore and clothes I’d outgrown. I even had to bag my stuffed animal collection including my favorite of all, Isha. My mom told me not to worry that everything would be safe in the attic and that I could always get something down if I needed to. That set my heart at ease and helped me feel better about the transition.

One Saturday morning my mother decided to have a garage sale to free up space in the garage and the attic. I woke up about 10 o’ clock and could see the action going on in our driveway. Boxes that were once full of shoes and handbags were completely emptied out. Some chests and suitcases we filled with party dresses and costumes were now half full and the bins full of my old toys were barren. There was a lady there with her son and young daughter who were buying pretty much everything. The young girl was probably three or four years old and had the cutest, softest, and most adorable white fur reindeer stuffed animal tucked under her left arm.

“Isha!” I yelled running towards the little girl and her mother, “I’m sorry but this one is not for sale.”

“Oh no, well it was in the box.” The woman answered.

My mom now walking over to see what was going on.

“Mom why are my stuffed animals down here?” I demanded.

“I’m sorry I thought this was the bag of stuff you didn’t’ want.” She replied.

The little girl was now gripping Isha around her neck while her mother forcefully tried to take it from her. Her eyes lowered as she began sniffling, tears filling her eyes, at the loss of her new found treasure.

“Here you go.” The woman handed Isha back to me, now trying to console her daughter but she wouldn’t let up.

How could I take Isha back now, I felt terrible even demanding her back in the first place.

I gave my prized possession a tight squeeze and kiss.

“Don’t cry it’s all yours,” handing Isha over to the little girl. Her face lit up as she grabbed her new found treasure.

“You promise to take care of her?”

She nodded with a serious face.

“Tell her thank you.” The woman said.

Even though I was sad to see something I treasured now gone, I was happy to know that Isha would bring someone else joy like she brought me.