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I.
Why do straight people feel the need to whisper right as they say the word “gay”?
Yet when labeling a “dyke” or “fag” they aren’t mindful with what they say?
Maybe we need to redefine our slang?  

There are some words that just shouldn’t be colloquial.

II.
Then there are times when they don’t seem to notice you.
Like when your sister notes that the girls need to step up their wedding game,
but fail to acknowledge your engagement ring…

III.
They ghost themselves from our relationship as if closing their eyes mean we don’t exist.
If your mom refuses to speak to me, then I remain in the abyss…

Since when have closing our eyes and plugging our ears become the solution to anything?

IV.
Sometimes I feel like a pollutant.
Like the litter that people drive by as they say,
someone should pick that up…
Like I’m too filthy too be touched.

I don’t like where this is going…
I don’t like the way your Christianity is showing.

V.
Since when is it ok to throw relationships to the wayside to avoid the discomfort of getting dirty?  

Can’t you see that your relationship with your daughter is getting lost in the debris-
From the smog and the smoke screens that have been placed in between
for the sake of keeping your “cup” clean?

When the truth is, all of our dishes are hand-me-down.

No one eats off of a plate straight from the box without washing it first.
And washing away your presence only heightens the hurt.

Our relationships would not be as easy to swallow if it were not for kneading through the dirt.

I don’t believe Christ ever wanted us to scrub out our love from those that we see as being stained.
Because the truth is, even He
took the time to cradle us
before he was slain.

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The post All One Thing appeared first on Decanting the Mind.

He immediately gets my attention.

My numb hands now feel the tension.
Exhales caught in misty suspension.
My flight mode is pending.
His arms are bending toward his bowing head.
His hands are mending face with thread.
And Like the black space of this sunless morning, his identity sheds.

The lights lose their reds,
The drivers turn their heads,
and the man steadily treads-
off into the arms of his 9-5,
armored in his man-made fabric,
which has ben crafted,
to protect his heart from the sting
of nature’s frigid hold.

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At the bus stop a woman digs into the trash,
searching for satisfaction
for a need that mother America has failed to meet.
She picks up and tosses aside
until her thin fingers fall
upon a box of abandoned french fries.

My mom offers the extra meal
that the McDonald’s man had slipped inside her bag.
The woman takes the burger
to examine it with her nose-
Is it 100% beef?  she asks.
Excuse me?  my mom responds.
Is it 100% beef?  the woman repeats-
the burger still at her nose.

My mom speculates, Yes …

before returning to the blue bench
from where she glares,
at the lady nibbling in the August sun.

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I need some body to lead me through this city, where the sidewalks are covered with litter and pee. It’s not hard to see how people struggle with their sanity. As they seek the balance between expressing their frustrations and waiting patiently. My whole life I aimed to wait effortlessly. Locked my emotions in cages like inmates in Cell Block B.

Bravo! To those whom are well behaved.

Bravo! To those whom saved themselves from lashing out against this broken system.

Bravo! To the man whom sells himself short just to play by the rules.

Sometimes, following the rules make us look like fools

and

cause us to break our loved ones hearts.

Sometimes, rules rip us apart.

Sometimes,  rules rip out our hearts-

and

turn our bodies into breathing machines that can only follow streams of code. Over time our compassion erodes as humanity explodes from the grenades of our “truthful” words. Sometimes, we need more than words.

We need you-

to hold our pain tightly
against your chest, so that we know
your heart is still beating.

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We are all searching for the sun.
In all of its modesty-
We Stand
beneath it’s clouds,
peering through pinholes,
discovering new ways
of
looking at the moon.

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