Tag Archives: Love

Elephas.Cocoa.&Lincoln for H20

He’d stated, “3rd note to self, water for chocolate, nobody won the chocolate wars as all participants merely got cavities, therefore making love on a waterbed is approved by 9 out of 10 dentists. ”  And I laughed with a smile big and wide like thighs spread and remembered intimacies.  He was demanding and I never gave an inch.  It’s what we like best- challenges.  He excelled at Chess and I’d never learned to play but disintegrated homes and hardships taught kinky haired children stratagems to keep the village together and the larders full on a dime.  We broke bread from my oven and pretended we didn’t need each other.  I didn’t know his full story, but I could tell he’d also mastered pushing people away so they won’t leave when they’re gone.  Our eyes locked like daggers, piercing in intensity.  We made love like war and took no prisoners.  I used to think every venture had a destination.  I liked going on trips, getting to know the local flavor, and returning home.  He was packing my bag with a sundress and a machete.  Quests are unexpected adventures, and often the costs are not as easily alleviated as a cavity.  Al Green crooned, “How Can you Mend a Broken Heart” two years after the Gibb boys had nursed broken beats to the B-Side of a “Country Woman.”  Water! Water! Water! they all requested between takes.  The vocal chords, turns out, are just as vulnerable as the heart and when the two coincide someone or something has to go out. Everybody’s craving passion, to bite the bullet and ride the bull. Something forbidden or hidden because it takes two to tango. Even gringos get it and wish to let go of their anglo saxon disenchantment and for a love one can only express in a the kneading of dough… in needing both a parent’s love and the ability to love someone who doesn’t have to love you but can’t stop.  Mama taught me early to want what I couldn’t have or perhaps there was a more sinister plot afoot, that ever after wasn’t for us.  Lately, it’s looked like mine.

Part of walking down this path isn’t just about scenery, it’s also about balance.  Most people want to please everybody so they OCD down the middle of the road, but one day there comes a fork—> you have to choose. Only the magician’s assistant could be cut in two.  Then we were running from barking dogs and burning crosses because with the lights off, I didn’t know it was a fox and that x is an intersection; they’ve wanted me to hate myself for years and consistently try to convince me being a nigger lover is bad.  So I change the channel, but I won’t go into surfing yet.  It’s 1956 Alabama and Gordon Parks snaps a photo of a black gal dressed for church, sipping from ‘the colored only’ fountain because some trips one must praise Jesus and Jim Crow.  I’m thinking one of her descendents grew up in a brownstone on the south side of Chicago– not to be confused with the poison that Fantastic Mr. pushes in the streets of Porter County.  A lot of their grandparent migrated from Peaches, Sippy cups, and Volunteering states of mind with dreams of  prosperity on Lakeview.  In my vision, she’s rocking big gold hoops like her ancestors and Cross Colors like her peers.  She pops bubble gum and sings along to J.J. Fad’s S.U.P.E.R.sonic.  The fellas, post disco dug it when Gil said, “The Revolution will not be Televised.”  They told her Common liked rhymes and got his moniker from Common Sense.  See it doesn’t take a genius to figure out at the end of the day, in this fragile skin to understand this to be true: wherever you reside, whomever you adore, whatever lingo you verb, or however you worship— you get thirsty and you need to drink.  Even if you don’t believe in chocolate Jesus, there’s a need to be reborn and baptized in the water to wash the dirt and grit off.  This world is filthy and anything that stands out to long will tarnish and rush.  He felt he held the same passion for music that de la Garza had for food and Shakespearean love.  The church lady’s great grand daughter likes Common.  I want to tell this fictitious girl I do too.

I mention you and tell her I’m in love with a circus freak who takes care of caged, wounded animals who put on a show.  Though his training isn’t formal, he learned just enough to expound.  You think I deserve better than self destruction, and we argue about what there is to restore.  I may even mention how you like a girl who looks at the tops of trees because a friend once called them her personal ocean.  The birds become fish, swimming in and out of their waves.  That I’m, I mean she’s drawn to them and their symbolic freedom.   You like that about her and there are instances when you watch her fascinated that she forgets that they are prey and the two of you are one of their wolves.  I know you believe that because you’ve never really recognized I want to swim to glide not as a dove or dolphin, but a griffin because to heaven I was born.   And I guard divinity in this life because I’m mankind and history has revealed the continued search for the source is innate whether it be for elephants or chocolate, even souls time traveling in before and after.

Love and Lost.  This toothache won’t let me sleep, heard you got a poultice at the end of the tunnel for me.

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Childish

We sadly turn on our televisions and hear stories where a child is taken from an abusive home covered in dirt and grime.  They’re bathed and nurtured then out comes this amazing, resilient being whose heart is still capable of love, trust, and purity.  Belief… They grow up to be not only survivors, but protectors.  They fearlessly share their stories with the world, so others can know it’s ok to be broken and there is redemption.  We admire those children and commend their strength.  Yet, we judge ourselves and others for being fallible.  We don’t give ourselves a break from imperfection, struggle, and hardship.  We blame ourselves “It’s my fault!” we say.  Then we punish ourselves with self recrimination and vice.

Too often we say we have faith, and quietly crumble.  I hold on to the child inside me b/c the adult is too cynical and not as strong.  My “inner child” lets me see the world without being jaded.  It allows people I love to hurt me and I instantly forgive them and allow them to make things right.  It lets me laugh when I fall or make a mistake.  It enables me to find joy in little inane things.  It allows me to share because I love.  It makes me unafraid to receive love.  It keeps me from worrying if I get too dirty or banged up when doing the things that I love.  It makes me brave enough to go out in the world each day to try to succeed again.  My childishness is the best part of me because without it, I’d be hopeless and prone to despair…

but here I am, coloring outside the lines and using all the crayons that I treasure in a shabby box.

Travel Light,

Kg

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Ditty

by Kevin Young

You, rare as Georgia
snow. Falling

hard. quick.
Candle shadow.

The cold
spell that catches

us by surprise.
The too-early blooms,

tricked, gardenias blown about,
circling wind. Green figs.

Nothing stays. I want
to watch you walk

the hall to the cold tile
bathroom–all

night, a lifetime.

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Letter to a Friend

Life is a theory full of hypotheticals and possibilities; an equation whose answers are infinite; and a battleground we soldier thru to fight for the things of beauty.  Most things and people are broken but fractals are amazing.  We take a little of everything— the joys and pangs to create an honest whole, a flawed perfection and that’s what you are… I am.  I love every scar on your soul, because I read once no one can be brave if they’ve only had wonderful things happen to them.

“Electric communication will never be a substitute for the face of someone who with their soul encourages another person to be brave and true.”  —Charles Dickens

I see those wounds and I know “That’s a person who will fight for our friendship to sustain” and no matter what happens in our lives I can count on you for support, nurture, and love.  We live in a fickle world often governed by fear and uncertainty.  So many rough tides turn up fair weather friends… but not you.  Others can count on you when the world is at their back to roll up your sleeves and dig in the trenches.   I appreciate you and I’m better for you in my life.  You don’t rush to “group” thought and if the crowd went bridge jumping, you’d be somewhere off to the side with me laughing.  If you don’t know that or understand your value, it isn’t a reflection of you but that I need to step my game up.  See the thing is, my life with have a huge chasm if you weren’t there.  You Matter.  Plus I don’t know where I’d find another you, you’re pretty damn irreplaceable.  Trust me, I looked and knock offs are so fake and unreliable.  He was wearing colors and saying he was my brother, definitely was not as intelligent— huge mess!  All retarded with defects like the first clones.  I found damage control in a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a match though.

Travel Light,

Kg

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“Because all I have to give,  is music”

—Chet Baker [Chet’s Romance circa 1989]

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Streams of Conscious

Inspiration:

1

two steps forward

& two steps back

All we have is now

2

How do you follow up

I love you?

“Say baby, life’s no good if you ain’t in it”

3

I was channeling surfing for a connection

Nothing was on ‘cept you

running through my mind

4

chugga chugga

if you’re the conductor of this movement

I’ll board

5

I write all our mistakes

every bad thing we say

It makes us tragically beautiful

6

missed opportunities

Easter is about redemption

not disappointment

7

our time was borrowed

my heart, a loan

and I want my shit back

8

Risks!

You should stick to poker

the bets are clearer than love

9

The harder I run and resist

all those sharp rights

led me back to your side

10

It’s not that I’m weak

or foolish

but those flowers you gave me

were wrapped in parchment paper

shaped like a dunce cap

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