Grown Up Warfare

When we grow up, we do not realize the war we begin fighting; I didn’t anyway. It is like we become survivalist on some level, willing to do whatever it takes to find a moment of peace. The one moment where the tightness in our chest subsides and you can just breathe. When we grow up the war never feels fair.
It seems like an oxymoron to realize we are fighting for peace. Where some of us are in the trenches, in the muck, utilizing the people in our lives to stand on so we do not drown in it. And others are happy to sacrifice themselves, for the greater good. Each individual intricately labeled, so we all can be equally confused; martyr, warrior, narcissist, female, male, gay, straight, black, white, Asian, Latino, check this box for classification that never is clear or definitive about anything that is more real. The lines blur and I rarely accept the superficial or obvious about anyone. Growing up in a world riddled with war, just feels like the deafening static that becomes our lives.

I fool myself into thinking this is not a blind reality I live; that I am not this survivalist who utilizes the people in my life to stand on. I do not want to drown in the muck and I am not good as a martyr. Each of us participates in this war on some level despite the righteousness we feel we may possess. We buy into the noise cloaked in justice, security, and sympathy. Forgetting the importance of honor, integrity and solidarity. When I was younger, I never felt this war would exist outside my family. I began training at a young age, ignorant of what it all meant or purpose of the harsh realities most of pretend do not exist.

I need to zoom my lens out and adjust the focus. Welcome the dark part of myself I try to hide. Rationalizing on some level, I deserve this, I want this and it is okay. Meanwhile, those weary souls that are keeping me a float, above the muck, sacrificing parts of themselves for me, begin to weigh me down. And I begin to sink in the truth of who I have become while surviving. This grown up warfare is a projection of what I learned a long time ago. I feel safe in it. It is known. Who would I be without my grown up war? I would be vulnerable and scared. To sit with myself in the silence, without my martyrs, has me reaching for the “yum” like it is the air I breathe. Peeling back all the layers will take forever and still we will be distracted by the distant noise of those connected to us. I would like to say I am a great friend, a reliable ally, and a solid individual, however the truth is I am flaky, ambiguous and too selfish to even pretend anymore. I value honor, integrity, truth and solidarity. I wear them as symbols of what I want to create around me; unconscious reminders of the purpose of my self created war. The more years that pass the louder the noise becomes, the tighter the grip is felt in my chest and most days only shallow breathes are felt. All this was here before, within me, and continues to remind me. I cannot have the fact that I am this survivalist who utilizes the people in my life to survive on some level to be validated, because I do not want to drown in the muck, in the trenches that are too deep for me alone. War = Peace only in the grown up projected movie screen in life. I have decided to stop watching the movie and participate in the life without the war. Wish me luck!

Friendship by Kahlil Gilbran
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Forgot What it Meant to Me

You know when you forget something, something you were in fact supposed to forget and then remembered. It is like déjà vu, only you know you experienced the shit at some point in your life.

I forget sometimes, what matters to me; I forget that my friends and my family mattered so much that I put myself aside and completely disappeared within the dysfunction that only those relationships offer. I needed autonomy. I needed to form my own identity that was mine and mine alone. I needed me. And this year, far from the home I once knew, here I am. Still, in the echo of silence, as the holidays run amuck inside of me, I forget sometimes, how much I have valued those relationships in my life. In truth, I valued them far more than I ever valued myself. However, in my constant struggle within those ties, I ripped those relationships from me in a way that I can no longer from myself.

You know when you pull away so far and things get so lost that you find yourself completely alone on a journey you wanted to take your whole life, but never prepared for it in reality? Then, BOOM you are on your way and you have walked so far down that path that going back no longer exists? People always say, “be careful what you wish for”. Well, fuck, telling someone like me that is so impulsive that, never sinks in, never really is practiced and never really is understood, until right now in this moment.

I am not regretting my choices. I know that I have to take this one alone for as long as it takes for me to be at the place spiritual, emotional, and completely who I must be on this earth I walk. I did not imagine that this inner struggle would exist as strongly as it does. I thought on some level being apart from the family and friends I coveted would allow me to fully find myself.  It is like the spiritual monk who goes in a cave and dwells for years and then comes out and is worshipped by their tribe. Yeah, well, I am not a monk and my tribe has other shit to worry about than worshipping some bullshit they know is not real. I forgot what they all truly meant to me. I forgot what value they represented to me. I forgot how these values run so deep about family, they will never be taken from me completely. And how, during the holidays and during family gatherings, the absence I would feel would become deafening. That on my journey, those memories are so loud, I cannot even hear myself sometimes. I know, it seems simple, call them, reach out, blah, blah, blah, blah. I don’t require the typical generic advise here folks. I am just feeling though it all. And in this moment the numb is all I can call upon for comfort. The hot, lava volcano is stirring and I know the fire will spew out, but right now, I am just floating above it; as usual, just to get through it, without it completely consuming me.

I am sure on many levels that is why I am fascinated by some external pain. I feel like, ‘whip my ass’, so I can feel damn it. No, not You, the one behind You that hides, yeah, You. But that is just a theory at this point. Fuck, maybe I would totally lose control being whipped and well, trust me; maybe a motherfucker would have to watch the fuck out. The warrior is a tough bitch and she scares me, but then again, sometimes I like to be scared. I do feel in this year, I have found a truth that is mine and mine alone. Despite all the masks I wear, I don’t have to put them on for the 1 person share my daily life with, Christina. She knows this me that I have always wanted to be and well, that has me smiling in this moment. I am not completely alone; we are on this island of hope. Not gripping onto one another, but joining each other in our lives. And yes, contrary to popular belief, joining your child is much more healthy than having them join you.

I think if your life is filled with dysfunctional relationships, at some point you have to be strong enough to walk away. Not just for self-preservation, but self-realization, self-actualization. I am starting to celebrate the memories of those that once held a valued place in my life and have hope that one day, they will join me in my life when it is better for me. Currently, I know, I am too weak not to get sucked up and drained completely of all the energy and person I have become to even think about the possibility of contact. Feels hollow. Feels surreal, and yet, I still continue on my island of hope, growing and learning about the things that matter to me now.

Fearless or Fearful?

Stumbling Towards Next To Me

It’s like trying to find your way in the dark and everything familiar is no longer there. You trip, you stumble, you grit your teeth trying to find your center of gravity. But it’s gone, and you are just adrift. All those memories I have pushed down, all those feelings I tried to lock away, all that reality I pretended didn’t exist, found it’s way to me.

Forgiveness is process. That is what they all tell me. It’s multi-layered like some intricate flower O’Keefe painted long ago that has you standing in awe. You look, the first layer is just the surface, the next grabs you in and before long you feel lost in it all.

My last relationship had me losing everything I held dear. Family I had known and shared with for 25 years. Friends I held dear. Everything I counted on and everything that I felt a part of me. The worst part was the feelings of humiliation that were thrusted upon me before I had a chance to breathe. And as those last months crept by, the assaults and humiliation continued. It all destroyed me in a way no words will ever convey to anyone. The evidence is written all across my heart. A heart that is wounded and the signs of recovery seem so distant that hope feels like just a sentiment at this point.

I pushed it all down. I tried to forget. Memory that breathed forgiveness called to me. And the fight still continues. How do you forgive someone who paraded your pain around like some victory? Who has not one moment of remorse or guilt? When you are warrior? When your whole life you fought against such things? It defies everything you know and now everything you know seems gone. The sacrifices cannot be measured, the pain will never be seen, and yet, right here next to me I feel it like it is mine and has been all along.

I feel like some impossible puzzle, to which I have no answer solving. I want to hold all this in the palm of my hand, but my will is heavy and my warrior weak.

Whips Pink and Numb

This is a poem I wrote back in 2005. I had this whole, “I am going to be a spoken word poet” time in my life.

Settled in the unsettle

As the metal hits the metal

Click, click

Come on baby stop fighting it,

Be patient I whisper as I give her neck a lick,

There’s this little trick

I think as I handcuff her to my bed and lit my wick,

All the scary thoughts swirling through her head,

Handcuffed,

Tied down,

Eyes that are no longer able to see,

All the fun and tantizling things she is allowing me,

Shhh….

No words are allowed my beautiful pet,

Her pussy pulsing and wet

Anticipating,

Waiting,

As hot wax drips down her back,

She squeals in excitement

And this sensual energy surrounds,

Us

In this dark, cold, room

Her bound and lost so soon

All she has left to feel and know me

Is the sound and my firm or gentle touch

Oh fuck, that’s really not much

She thinks as she begins to hear the crack of my new leather whip

Her body quivering and wanting desire

Please baby,

Just raise that ass of yours a little higher

Yes, right there, perfectly smooth

But not yet pink

Sliding my straps over them

Teasing

Knowing

Whip

Whack

Screams of passion

Thrack

Oh, yes baby more

Watching has her ass begins to show the wanting sore

Slowing down

Remembering

You can’t continue to whip her ass

And have her really enjoy that numb numbing

With ice cold licks of my tongue,

I just lap it all up as her pussy uncontrollably

CUMS!

Red Cherry Lips

This is a poem I wrote back in 2005. I had this whole, “I am going to be a spoken word poet” time in my life.

Her red cherry lips all new and shiny
Sex kitten all revved up thinking she wants to try me
The idea her silence gives her the power
Fuck
Give me this girl for just an hour
I will hold her just barely beneath me,
No skin touching
That would be cheating
Make her look at my steel
All shiny and wet with only sheer panties that conceal
As I straddle her face only allowing her to
Barely squeal
She’s pinned down and is only allowed to be be still
Beneath the cold of the vinyl
From my spiked boot that goes all the way to my knee
I demand her to tell me those deep dark secrets she doesn’t reveal
Or pay the consequence and continue not feel
The warmth of my steel
Against your red cherry lips
Sparkling whispers while you lay beneath me in fits
Begging for mercy but
Silently holding your power of those secrets beneath your tits
Down to the depths where it is only the soul that benefits
I take out my knife all sharp and seductive
Capturing the light to wake you the fuck up
Don’t you know I refuse to accept this silent puppet
You defend with such zeal by stating,
“yeah and what of it”
Time to make you my new little pet
Get ready
Don’t move
As a twist the knife down my side ….
BAM!
There goes my bikini
The challenge lay right before you
The smell of my steel reveals the powerful rapture
Your mouth watering
Preparing the palette for capture
The pierced
Cunt all wet
Has you all whimpering
You resort to that whiney wanting whimper
As your silent power continues to temper
Every part of this moment
My cunt throbs in a pant,
Dripping the drip of this dance
I decide it’s time to give up
and just say fuck it
Grab open my pleasure
exposing the steel
to the cool open that exists between me and you
And sit directly on those red cherry lips
All full and reminding
That were marked for life that night
as I burned them eternally shiny