loving without being loved is a tough one but happiness is something a little different; happiness is the only thing you can give without having and through happiness you will find love. We can only then hope that love leads you to love others, not destroy them.

let me paint you a picture
in shades of black and white
in shades of those who ****
and those who fight
this is what racism looks like
black men with paper hearts
armed with cardboard swords
white men dipped in ivory steel
white men born armed with skin
it's a black man with hands
raised to the heavens
and seeing hell as his last sight
this is what racism feels like
it's your black breath
being ****** out of your lungs
by white hands of white men
dressed in blue gilded in gold
this is what racism sounds like
it's an 18-year old's last words
it's a mother's cry at a police station
it's a bullet racing through the air
this is what racism is
it is not poetry
it's a black man wearing a red shirt
and getting shot six times
this is no crusade
there is no holy purpose
this is the star-spangled truth
a flag drenched in black blood
this is the truth bared in ink
and no poetry can save it

Who are you to determine who is ugly and who is pretty?
We are all beautiful and handsome.
It's how we carry ourselves as people
and what we choose to put out into the world that should matter.


There is a group on Facebook that I was added to called "No Ugly People Allowed." I denied the invitation because I think it's wrong to judge people based on how they look.

Religion
Has ruined
Spirituality

There was no warning.
No explanation.
Just an empty room.
Yet laughter could still be heard within.
Somehow it brought more pain.
A sting for every shard.
Thousands of needles.
lacerating the insides like a beehive had just imploded.
Each and every one hid a memory.
A slow acting poison.
Paralyzing...
Ongoing.
Days passed and no answer still..
Fear ransacked my mind.
While my body barely held together

The cold steel in my hand.
Gave no reassurance as it once had.
I was surrounded.
Encased in a metaphor.
Yet this one seemed to breathe.
My family needed me.
The one that raised me.
The one that killed me.
The one that buried me.
And so back at the very threshold I pledged to so long ago.
My brothers.
Many of which gave the only thing that they had left.
On that night.
They stood there.
Shoulder to shoulder.
A thunderous night it was.
For blood was not the only thing washed away.
But an existence all together.
A life.
A Debt.
Now paid.

Ever wonder what a real man is like? Let me tell you.

A real man cares about what goes on in your head.
All the others just care about getting you to bed.
A real man gives you a special place in his heart.
Them other guys just want you to spread your legs apart.

A true man wants to ease all of your pain.
A "player" wants you for his own gain.
A real man isn't scared for you to see his tears.
Them other boys will never tell you their fears.

(Insert rant) A sign that you've found a real man is when you are both able to share your all of your worries, anxieties, and personal cares with each other; and can do so in faith that he's not only listening, but caring.

A real man is there through thick and thin.
Other guys just want your skin.
You can look a real man deep into his eyes,
And know that he's not hiding any lies.

**To all the men who read this poem, look at yourself and see if you fit this description. Do you think that your lady would say you follow these guidelines? If you're single, are you a man that ladies find trustworthy? I hope you are, and if you're not that you change that. We men need to represent.

But how can you blame her?
She fell in love once.
With a boy who need saving himself.
She did everything
but there was no end to it.
She realized he need not
to be saved but to be loved.