Learn Not To Make Assumptions

Just because she is nice to you and find you attractive

doesn’t mean she wants to have sex with you.

Just because she is sexually attracted to you

doesn’t mean she has deep feelings for you.

Just because she has deep feelings for you.

doesn’t mean she wants to marry you.

Just because she is independent

does not mean she does not need a man’s protection.

Just because she needs a man’s protection,

doesn’t make her desperate for attention.

Just because she sexually open minded,

doesn’t mean her vagina is open to the public.

Just because he wants sex from you

doesn’t mean he think your gorgeous.

Just because he think your gorgeous,

doesn’t mean he wants a relationship.

Just because he wants he want a relationship,

doesn’t mean he has plans of marrying you.

Just because he shows chivalry towards a woman,

doesn’t mean he is not masculine.

Just because he was raised by a single mother,

doesn’t mean he is not masculine.

Just because he protects women,

doesn’t mean he does not have a weakness.

My Black Queen

I fell in love with her

the moment I Iaid eyes on her

I had a mission

to be in position

to be a king

by her side

I look with my eyes

and see a queen and I must provide

Always promise to protect

She is gorgeous regardless

of her style of clothing

She could wear house sweats

She could wear a Cinderella dress

Hairstyle could be of cornrow braids

Hairstyle could be box braids

Her black beauty have me amazed

Her love have me trapped in a maze

I’ll protect her home with a riffle

I’ll protect her on the street with my fist

I’ll provide her with a spirit from an angel

I’ll provide anything for her like a genie grants a wish

I’ll take her on trips to travel the world

I’ll take her by the hands and show her to the world

Would You Want Somebody To Read Your Autobiography?

“If you don’t learn to write your own life story, someone else will write it for you”

This quote is remarkable to someone like myself trying to increase my wealth.

I took heed of the many voices that led to many choices. Staying patient, trying to remain focus The accolades to celebrate the daily grind, I know I deserve it, but yet still not where I want to be.

“Some dreams stay dreams, some dreams stay true.” The line has been attached in my mind since the age of sixteen.

When I was a teen, I had dreams of accomplishing everything, Losing my virginity at 17, Having a car at 17, moving out going away to college at 18, having a bachelor’s degree at 21, going to clubs and partying at 21.

At 17, I graduated high school a virgin, damn near didn’t lose my virginity until 21.

At 18, I had poor SAT scores plus I was a B- student, so ending up going to a community college.

At 21, I was attending farmingdale state college while contemplating becoming a police officer which failed miserably due to failing the oral psychological test, plus I didn’t get my bachelors degree until 27 due to me switching careers at 23, but I did finally get a car which was four years overdue.

What happens is as you age, you come to the realization that Welcome to reality is not Welcome to Disneyland.

Everything does not happen according to plan.

Reality is allowing yourself to be the scapegoat and never forgiving yourself while in actuality the scapegoat is someone else utilizing demon tactics to paint you as one.

The end goal is to wake up the day before you die and hearing Michael saying that you won.

But how do you win, how do you become a winner? How do you get a good night sleep, knowing you don’t make enough money? How do you get a good night sleep when you have to make a choice rather spend money or stay hungry? How do you get a good night sleep when you try to find the root cause of why black lives don’t matter in America?

These are complicated questions and my answers to each don’t remain constant.

So when I hear “If you don’t learn to write your own life story, someone else will write it for you” this poem that I have written is the true definition.

I feel like Jesus starving after 40 days and the people that give advice are the devils, tempting and pressuring me to see the light.

I write this to let the ones know that are proud of me to don’t tell me how to feel.

This is a preview of an autobiography that shows the misery, but in 10 years when I turn 40, hopefully I will write an extension with something more positive.

Poetry Verse

I heal like wolverine
Under a rainstorm
I choose to be seen.
Running away
was a childish game
I decided to put away.
It can rain for 40 days
but the rainbow
is God’s way
Of saying
For every dark night
there is a brighter day

My poetic disorder

My poems are bipolar
500 poems written and I’m diagnosed with a poetic disorder.
I can write something romantic one minute.
I can write something very frantic,
it makes my mother panic
the next minute.
My poem can make a turtle come out its shell
My poem can make a heart melt

My poem can break a woman down.
My poem can break a heart so bad,
can have a person go missing
like keys in the lost and found.
My poem demonstrates my sexual abilities
about me boasting about my stamina and agility.
My poem also describes why pussy is too easy
that sex is

barely pleasing.
I can be a tease.
I just do enough to make her knees weak and cum all over the sheets
just with my words.
My pants, they zipped up and that’s my word.
My poem describes misery is a devil that tricks me,
into thinking life was made to be easy.

Devil tactics are drastic.
Smoking weed is the habit
to just  be poetic.
But yet , I wrote at least 20 poems of how Jesus is my greatest weapon.
I wrote a poem about how teachers and pastors are the biggest hypocrites.
My mood swing in my poem goes up and down like a stock exchange

My poetic words taught me to take chances ,
when I have a shot close range.
But I’m a sniper rifle, so I don’t want a relationship unless its long distance.
My poem is a sniper, because when in deep thought, I can go for long distance
like a female pastor that’s long winded.

My poem is joyful like Nickelodeon shows, just PG rated
Or my poems can be more destructive than the coronavirus,
which is demonic rated.

 

 

Would You Rather Be Seen Or Heard?

Sound of a voice can hold weight, like a curvy woman.

But get neglected like the needs of  an innocent child,

under the roof of an abusive parent.

The face and the skin is more obvious which define a unique blessing.

Too much attention towards an attraction like paintings in a art galley.

Being seen is the first impression(normally)

Being heard is the last impression(normally).

You will be seen by many, and will be ignored by many.

Silence is your best friend, but sometimes your worst enemy.

Silence break hearts like twigs, and annihilate families due to

mental slavery shackled to the brain.

The young and innocent commit suicide before arriving Junior High.

Bullies laugh while the  principal mouth is zipped up like a body bag.

Parents are not notified and the victims of elementary school kids are terrified.

So silence disguise the inside which is being crucified.

The bullies are Romans that should be forgiven for they don’t know,

but yet still need to be held accountable for their actions.

Are the parents of these demons the scapegoat?

Only the lord knows.

Prejudgment is cold and do the most harm towards

the individuals without gloves and a scarf.

Prejudgment provides an affection that poison

the mind, body, and soul into thinking

life is not worth it

like a child that quit playing a sport that he only played in the first place to only gain the approval of his parents

that pressure and praise their son due to his athletic built.

How does this generation heal?

It takes skill to heal and it takes the appropriate tools to build.

The truth is shoved in  white envelopes sealed inside a coffin.

Secrets are hidden all the time like miscarriages and abortions from parents.

So many similes and metaphors I can use to express my feelings on this subject.

Lets not forget about the victims of  racism and sexism.

But here is the secret that is not so obvious to many.

The ugly truth is overridden by the curse of popularity.

Now not all popularity is bad, but it can move you ahead in life, like the fast lane pass in six flags.

When the ugly truth is not the popular vote or coming from the voice of an unpopular face, we do an about face and face the face of a popular figure with a nice figure wearing clothes from Tommy Hilfiger or whatever name brand trend that is popular.

A trail of currency have more followers on that path, than the trail that leads to  Jesus Christ.

For 20 million dollars, would you sleep with another man’s wife?

For that amount of money, is that worth the sacrifice of betraying your own wife?

Sad to say, some wives would encourage their spouse to fuck another man’s wife since money supposedly provides a better life.

Money is the root of all evil.

Money is the root, the materialistic items is the stem, the followers is leaves, and popularity is defined as tulip in the spring time.

Spring time is only a season and the warm weather is only reason that attracts the people to come outside.

Bu what happens during the winter time?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Would a 14 year old be proud of what I’ve become?

Would a 14 year old be proud of what I’ve become?

When I read this question, I thought to myself this might be deepest.

My life I do take extremely serious, but why do I move so careless?

For years, I’ve tried so hard to be fearless

but I’m just a scared little boy mentally with a bad porn addiction.

What is living the dream?

Is it doing what you love, or is it about the money?

Does life flow smooth like milk and honey

in the promise land

or is life collapsing like the holy temple in 70 A.D.?

I’ve yet to figure out my real feelings

What do people think when they recongize my true identity?

I have lots of battles I have to fight and I’m running out of soldiers.

Lack of preparation increases the pressure.

I wake up sometimes and my heart beat fast.

Worry from the future and worry from the past.

I wonder how long this anxiety disorder will last.

Do you know what it feels like to wake up nervous because knowing ahead of time you are going to have a hard day?

You physically living safe in life, but your brain is 100 grand in an apartment without a safe.

Mentally sometimes my thought process is unsafe.

My long term memory is 200 GB, and its 170 GB full.

Almost 30 and I tell you, when I was 14, I didn’t vision this.

I didn’t vision still living with my father.

I didn’t vision barely making minimum wage.

I didn’t vision life getting harder, I thought life would of got easier since I didn’t care for childhood.

Now damn near almost 30, I have accomplishments, but to be honest, I feel like it’s not enough.

I’m tired of working for a boss.

I’m tired of dreaming.

I’m tired of sexual intercourse due to my porn addiction.

I’m tired of studying.

I’m tired of trying to advance in my career.

No matter how many times I make an effort to succeed, I get nowhere.

Life is too fast paced.

I feel like a 4th grader stuck on 1st grade reading level.

It’s like I’m close to the pot of gold behind the door

but I don’t have an access code.

No matter how many times I have tried to find a way to be happy, access is denied.

Will a million dollars make me erase all the pain or would I still find reasons to be miserable?

I won’t blame everything on my childhood, but I wonder if I grew up in a different family, different home, would I be in a much better place or is misery is where I forever belong.

It took me almost 30 years that I have a huge anxiety disorder.

I wish I had good things to say, but I be lying to every 14 year old.

So to every 14 year old that’s reading this, I speak advice into your souls.

Life is cold, but please if you not happy living at home or doing what you love for a living 10 years later,

It will put a pile of bricks on your shoulder that will slow you done making you feel like 65 when your only 25.

You don’t have to believe me, I’m the living testimony.

I one thing I do have good going that I’m proud of is my poetry.

I love to write and I believe I’m good at it.

I wish there was a way I could make a living off of it.

So to every 14 year old reading this, take my advice and don’t follow my footsteps.

Can’t satisfy my wife needs

Sex frightens me
Pussy gives me
the creeps
like its jeepers creepers.
I hate an agreesive chick
but I love a dick teaser.
A dick teasee is like a rollercoaster
because she make my heartpound
but they just tease.
Its all for fun, they mean no harm.
Pussy has never been my good luck charm.
I don’t know what to do with it.
I’m scared as shit.
I can’t obtain an erection and I have trouble finding the hole.
I have a small dick and that I have been told.
If I get married, if my wife want to conceive a child, she has to go to a sperm bank.
I have no ammo in the tank.
Her back, I can’t break.
I can’t put her to sleep, but I do have her leaving the house horny
every morning
and playing with her pussy
while I’m asleep because I can’t satisfy my wife needs.

Is My Life Making a Turning Point?

Harbor the strain

Ignore the pain

days are swallowed

like kids slurping spaghetti.

Never ready, but attack

life like Jason with a machete.

Life and death is every day

like a criminal in a locked cage.

Need space, but want comfort.

Despise the race, why didn’t she abort?

Lack faith, and the fight been fought.

I am  mentally a worn out,

for retaining everything I’ve been taught.

Forced myself to find a reason to be satisfied

like trying to make excuses for a sexless marriage.

Hide emotions and reasons

by running away like inexperienced men

making excuses for the lack of an erection.

I wish faith was a bottle of cialis

that I can devour once a day

to be excited for my future accomplishments.

My mind never sleeps, its been awake  for 10767.5 days.

To be man enough to admit that you have a attraction

is hard

and to not act upon it is even harder.

What you are attracted to does not always benefit you.

A long walk will always provide an answer,

since air is an provider.

Silence is the answer, so have more faith

by listening to what flows between your ears.

A conscious is our father in shrunk size

drawing the blueprint to open the eye

to see the joy in life.

 

 

 

 

 

The Heart Can Change Temperature

Should I compare you to a winter night?

Jet black is the color of your heart 

and temperature is of ice.

Sweet side is a dormant like bats in the day time. 

Anger is active like the mind of Jesus Christ, in 1st century’s time.

Was once sweet like brown sugar, I lost belief in my taste receptor.

Though vinegar is salubrious for the skin of your face,

the quality of your personality is no longer invigorating,

like leftovers in the fridge for days. 

The morning mist is your innocence fading.

So much more brutal than a winter evening.

Russia is no longer in competition with your heart.

Hardened like the pharaoh, can’t tell you and the serpent apart. 

Stab my flesh with something sharp like claws of wolverine. 

My belief towards you is of shark meat. 

Positive thoughts  devoured, cleansed away like germs in the shower.