humans are 70% water
and when I was little,
I used to think that everyones 30% was different
my mother- 70% water 30% tenderness
my father- 70% water 30% laughter
my sister- 70% water 30% light

as I've gotten older,
I learned that's not exactly how
the human body works

but still, sometimes I wonder
what my 30% is

I have countlessly dreamt,
I have unboundedly imagined,
That the day would come,
when you're truly gone.
But never did I expect,
the way you took your last breath,
At rest on my lap,
head up above,
Searching for my eyes,
looking within as to how my heart cries.
I never understood the language of grief,
until I've lost the butterflies out of my grip.
Oh its been a year and also two,
when both of you bid farewell,
the clouds turned grey, the shadow reigns.
But never have I let myself drown in despair,
for I truly know you have finished your race,
Awaiting for the promised life beyond compare,
Where the chosen one's will meet each other once again.

My father once told me to set reachable goals not imaginary ones,
But I set imaginary ones
Because I can’t get enough
And even if I could get enough I would
Still laugh at my father’s words
Because I choke and I stutter and
it seems like I shutter.
His words sound like butter that needs
to be melted

And I can’t help it.

I keep thinking that he was wrong,
so I go on
I set imaginary goals,
not reachable ones, not real ones,
Not those that sound-like-routine ones.
My father once told me that it’s too much,
It was in March,
the end of my school year.
I couldn’t hear the words he said afterwards.

They say that if you repeat something
over and over again, it’s becomes real
So I kept repeating that
nothing was wrong,
My vocal chords were jumping
out of my throat,
But nothing is wrong
Nothing is wrong
Nothing is wrong.

It sounds like a song. A still unwritten song, a soon to be written song.
I know that I belong somewhere else
but will I pass the test?
I press my face
Against disgrace my father placed
right in my chest.
I fill the void that I avoid and it is  
Sharper than the knife. I live a life,
But not the life.

And those goals, the real ones,
That sound-like-routine ones,
The reachable, not imaginary ones,
The ones that would make
My father proud,
They keep hunting me down.
They told me to repeat one thing over
And over and over again and I began
To scan

My own words that I say at least
A thousand times a day:
«Nothing is wrong,
Nothing is wrong,
Nothing is wrong»
I still go on with these imaginary ones
That sound-like-a-dream ones,
I holler and scream but my father
Doesn’t hear.
So I’m here:

I choke, I stutter and I really
do shutter. And his words are like
Butter that I spread on my bread
But I can’t eat it.

Am I defeated?

Or is it just my brain telling me
To stay strong?
My father once spoke to me,
But I went on
Because nothing is wrong.
Nothing is wrong.
Nothing is wrong.

Now When It Comes To...

.... “ My Life’s Story “....

It’s... NOT About Glory... !!!

Or Creating Fallacies...
About My History...

It’s NOT About Fantasies...
It Just Reflects... REALITY... !!!

About The Things I’ve Seen...
And The Places I Have Been...
And It CLEARLY Now Deals...
With My LOVE For POETRY... !!!

My Story’s Had MUCH Pain... !!!
As Well As... Happy Days...

I’ve Played Sports...
... Been In Courts...
And A WHOLE Lot More... !!!

It’s DEEPER Than Most Think... !!!
Because It Has Some Things...
That Some Would NOT Believe...
Have Been A Part of My Life...

That Have Made Me ANGRY...
But Have Also Made Me Smile...

From The Days When...
... As A CHILD...
I Told Some SILLY LIES... !!!

To These Days Where I Now Write...
What My Life’s TRUTH DEFINES... !!!!!

My Thinking That DEFIES...
The Vibes That DESTROY Lives... !!!

Cos’ I’m A... PEACEFUL Guy...
Who Has NO TIME For Racist Vibes... !!!

Or IGNORANCE That Rides...
With FOOLISH Acts of Pride... !?!

My Story Has Been NICE...
Just NOT... ALL of The Time... !!!

Because of VIOLENT Fights...
That Saw My Mother’s Eyes...
Be BLACKENED By The Guy....
Who Claimed Her For His Wife... !!!?!!!

Who Then...

Cheated And Resigned...
To Causing PAIN And STRIFE...
That Truly HURT Her Mind...
And BODY Til’ She CRIED...

Because She LOVED This Man...
Who Then Became My Dad...

But What Is REALLY SAD...
Is That When Things Turned BAD... !!!

My Father Turned His Back...
And Like A COWARD... RAN... !!!

AFTER He Had Made Attacks...
That Left Her Life RANSACKED... !!!

SCLEROSIS Then Began...
To Make Me Learn To STAND...
And YES Become A MAN...
Who Had To Then WITHSTAND...

The PRESSURES of What Came...
When SICKNESS Left Her LAME...
In Ways That RE-ARRANGED...
My Life Story’s... Range... !!!

NO ROVER But Much Colder...
Than Anybody’s SHOULDER... !!!!!!

I NEARLY Got Bowled Over... !!!
But Learned To Carry Boulders...

WhIle Peers of Mine...
Were Forming Their Lives...
With Children And Wives...

While I Had NO Time...
For Me To Build And Find...
A Woman Who Was Right...
Or A Wish To Have A Child...

Because I REALISED...

That I HAD To Do Right...
And Put ALL That Stuff Aside...
To Be By My Mothers Side...
And Make Sure She Was Alright... !!!

But When My Mother DIED...
She DIED Right In MY ARMS... !!!
But By Then I DIDN'T Cry...
Cos' I Found That I Was CALM...

Because I Felt That She...
Wouldn’t EVER WANT To SEE...
Me LOSE My STABILITY... !!!

But It Was Time For Me...
To Find Some INNER PEACE...
And To... Live For ME...
And Try To Be Happy...

But... LUCKILY...
By The Time She Passed...
I Had Met Someone...
Who Began To Love...
The Man That I'd Become... !!!

But It Was ALWAYS TOUGH...
For Her To SEE...
What... TRUTHFULLY...
Was MY LIFE's Story... !!!

So To Her I Say...
That I APPRECIATE...
What You Did For Me...

Even Though In The End...
It WASN'T Meant To Be...

But You Will ALWAYS BE...
... SPECIAL To Me... !!!

Because of The Way...
You SUPPORTED Me...

But Eventually I FOUND POETRY...
And Started To Write So FREQUENTLY...

That... Pieces Like THESE...
Were Things I Wrote DAILY... !!!

And STILL Do NOW...
That Make Me PROUD... !!!

of The Way That I...
... Utilise MY MIND...
To Write Poetic Rhymes...
That Are SMART And TIGHT...

That Some Folks Find...
To Be The TRUTH Designed...
In... Lines Upon LINES...
That Come From My Mind... !!!

My Story Though...
Has Left Me... ALONE...
Because Creative Zones...
DON'T Allow For **’s...
Or... Allowing FOES...
To Get TOO CLOSE... !!!

Because My NEW HOME...
ISN’T Where I Was Born... !!!
I Left England To Go...
To Where Bajans' Roam...

Where My Parents Were Born...
Where I’ve Faced Some SCORN...
But Am NOT Forlorn... !!!

Because My Life Draws...
From A Strength of Thought...

That Will NOT ALLOW...
My Head To Go Down...
Because of The CLOWNS...
That Have Tried To Surround...

And To Make Me REACT...
Like Some IGNORANT Man... !!!

I’ve STUCK To My Guns...
Travelled Now And Had FUN...
And Made Creations...
Just Like THIS ONE... !!!

And Have Now Made Some...
Where Good Music Runs...
Alongside My Words And Poetic Verse...

But It’s Fair To Say...
That SUICIDAL Traits...
And Depressive Veins...
Have NEVER Really Been...
... That Far AWAY... !!!

But HEY That’s OKAY... !!!

Because I Have No Wish...
To Live... FOREVER... !!!

And DON’T Fear Death... !!!
Like A Lot of Heads Whose Stories END...
May Well Leave Them...
With A World of REGRETS... !!!

My Story REJECTS...
... REGRETTING Things... !!!

Because I’ve Had Women... !!!
Had... PLENTY of ***... !!!
And Have Lived A Full Life...

But Now My Fathers Life...
Has Now... FLATLINED...

... I Find That I...
Am In A Place of PEACE...

In These Corona Times...
Where Things Are Really CRAZY... ?!?

I Really Don’t Know...
Where My Life Will Now Go... ?!?
But Hope That ONE DAY...
I’ll Look Back And Say...

That I’m Proud of The Way...
That I’ve USE MY BRAIN...
To... MANAGE My Pain... !!!

And Have Used Poetry...
As A Way To BREATHE.......

That Has TRULY HELPED Me... !!!

To Now Be Able To Share...
............ Some of...........

“ My Life's Story “ …………

A questionnaire of my family history is only a monologue I tell myself.
Practicing in front of the mirror to get better.
So, the next time the doctor’s words I am sorry falls back into their lips.
& I am onto my feet.
A vapid, monologue screenplay.
The rehearsed version of my life.
Answering the questions.
Somehow still fumbling through the words.
Yet leaving voids in my answers as my family’s members absence did.
Mother?
Two strokes. She’s alive but not apparent enough to know it.
Her blood runs too thick.
Blood pressure always boiling.
Mother knew how to live fast but never well enough.
Father?
Dead. He was alive but never long enough to hold it.
Heart always dropping and head into the palms of his hands.
Thirst never stopping.
Alcoholism is a wicked thing I say.
Siblings?
Brother. Alive somehow not present enough to count it.
Healthy. We count his days as tick-tack-toe though.
Family history has a lineage that says the roots in this family tree are rotten.
Sister. Victim to mental health.
The prodigy of a broken foster system.
I reckon her days are counted in lines.
Between days she’s alive & the days she wishes she wasn’t.
The doctor does an homage in the way she bows her head.
Makes the hollowed-out chest of mine seem like it’s filled with water.
I let out a gasp.
Trying to fill the room where all the air has seemed to have evaporated.
Hoping to catch my breath.
My story filling their break room like a lingering coffee smell.
Keeping them brewed in satisfaction that it could always be worse.
My story always seemed like the punch line for better days.
Our family has been waiting since genesis for such.
These are the days I wish I believed in something.
A god to drown every nightfall with dawn.

i trust in you and you love me
forever protected, the umbrella
maybe i'm scared, here and there
i, then, close my eyes and speak to you

you, then, answer me and calm me
we don't need any poetry, God
it's you and me, it's you and me...
YOUR SON, Mikey, Tizzop, Max

protect my mom and my dad,
my brothers and sisters
Elias, Christoph, Katharina, Chris,
Alin and Valerie, Andreas, Dennis

Nicholas, Eden, Beza, Milly, Janet,
Albin, Richard, Robin, Davis, Gisi
and their LOVED ONES. FOREVER.

i do thank you from the bottom of
my heart and my soul.
forever yours, Mikey, Tizzop, Max

What darkness did we inherit?
What sick gift did we receive
from our poorly informed parents
who thought that they were right?

Was it genetic buried in our DNA,
making it almost certain that
we would turn out the same way?

Was it in our up bringing
the sick streaming of violence
and language that was demeaning?

Is it our destructive birth right
to perpetuate the same plight
that plagued our family life
with late night outbursts
of abuse that hurt worse
than falling off our bikes
or banging our head against
the thick mental metal bars
of our psychic cement prison?

when the therapist asked
about my family history,
I gave her a history lesson.

I told her that growing up,
my house was a war zone.

I don't remember
what year it was, but eventually
the house collapsed into itself.
that trauma left me scared and hurt
with nowhere to go.

my mother moved out first.
she moved straight into
a life of addiction, and then
she found a new house
in the form of a jail cell.

my father also began
to call a jail cell his home.
he moved into the newspaper,
and then into the database of the
national *** offender registry.

now, we have separate houses
and conflicting beliefs.

we don't share anything
besides that story
and our DNA.

I couldn't tell her
about my family history,
because I don't
have parents anymore.

I have no family.
all I have is history.