I’m definitely a survivor.
Not too fussy about food,
as long as it’s fit,
lean, and can be consumed in
small bites.
Far too wild for a lab rat;
cold and clinical,
but prone to impromptu
experiments.
And will not accept reality
Because that would mean that
I’m dead.
Once,
I wished I were
a Swan,
but woke up the same way
I went to sleep,
A feral sexy brown/black
from the sewers and
garbage bens of
Detroit….
But with more self love.
Perhaps I was always a swan
after all….
Porn stars
work hard.
But they seem to enjoy
the sex they do.
All CEOs pay no taxes and
seem to love making money.
Yet they are shadow
and illusion.
None have freedom
and are being robbed
of their souls.
The stress of performance
is killing them….and everyone in between.
Stylized 1930’s hate
on black,
not like a KKK
hood, that hides.
They had stolen symbols
and a marching band,
with tanks to spare!
Now, the uniforms belong to
state senators
and folks who shit
on Capitol walls,
while their leader
plays golf in
Florida.
They count their
handy caps in body bags.
There are times
that I’m not doing the steering,
but some other sex
crazed brut.
I don’t which one I am one now,
Except that I want to stay on course,
to see whats beyond the horizon.
I want to feel my heart and mind with what I see.
Its no wonder that I’m a whore,
Men don’t fuck me right.
I’ve given the keys to my kingdom,
my secret fetishes….and men ignore them.
And when they use the keys,
its as if they didn’t have them at all.
I so want to be a prisoner,
tied to a rack,
exposed in all my glory.
I didn’t think I could die from hunger and thirst.
In an ocean of sex.
Of lies, fears and
assumed sexual inadequacies,
With sides of self styled
Illusions to close
my eyes to the truth.
On this diet I’m thin
and somewhat malnourished.
The trick is….
always eat with yours
hands or
utilsels
labeled with ‘truth’,
‘courage’, ‘determination’
And
a raging hard on….
I so not want
be anyone’s
servant
because of my
skin color,
And such a
reality should die
a slow death.
I will be free…
Twenty-twenty was not a good year for my soul….(or was it?)
I saw racial hatred that I knew intellectually was always there in my country, in my government, even in the place I worked.
I lost faith in the human race.
I lost faith in myself.
No, I haven’t regained my faith.
But I am healing, and I hope, I hope to heal right.
Thank you General Milley, for defending our nation and our military. And for me, who has loss a lot of faith in this country and the human race.
God damn it, I cried watching the general make his statements before Congress, and the guys who don’t any uniform.
You have restored my faith.
Well, OK back to being human….
I, with the help of my friends, managed to pay this month’s rent. And now for the next month’s rent.
I usually work to pay the bills, but I resigned from my position at a company, unemployment won’t pay me and I have no assignment at my temporary employment agency.
But I still live and breathe.
Have you ever wondered where the people like you were?
That no matter how many cities you have traveled to, you could not find that city in which to fit in.
And not finding that cafe where you can comfortably drink your morning coffee?
I have, and I’m convinced that I have no peoples like me, no community or friendships with kindred spirits. And yes, it’s a very lonely life.
Oh, don’t get me wrong.
I have met and befriended wonderful people in my life, and consider myself somewhat blessed.
But none get into sacred sexuality or Tantra, or know Taoism.
So I’m left alone and lonely.
Worse, I refuse to melt into the general culture, because there are enough ‘normal’ people in the world. And that culture is boring. But it’s hard not to have sex with them if you’re a Whore and you look for people through sex.
I used to feel the fear of dying alone, but that fear shrinks the more I think of my path and authenticity.
I’m going to be alone when I die, and I have to accept that as truth.
Life Raft In The Abyss 