Dreaming

I thought it would be better if I died.

A hopeful wish really, but one I still believed in. I wanted to go away. For everything to end.

Only, I entered an agreement for a new feeling. One which brings me pain.

I figured it would be better if I was deceased.

My rotting body used to study various diseases. For science of course. While my mother grieved and my father went on living. I figured, that with time, memories of me would fade.

Only, I entered a realm of false hope. When memories fade only to become the chains that choke me with yesterday’s desires.

I just wanted to go away.

I have no idea where I was going with this but here-

I must wear it like a chain around my neck


A bloody weight specially made of gossamer wings and naivety


For a split second I can see it
A tiny throne for a tiny king


Strong,

holding me upon a dirty bed


Strangers walk by with their stilted lies
throwing their red paint and holy words


A christening by those who curse


It must be hanging like a noose
This tightly woven cradle where tiny kings,
With tiny wings can slumber


For a split second I can feel it


(Tantalizing fingers glimmer, gently brushing remembering the need)


Remembering the greed
It didn’t take that long to bleed


As they tugged and pulled away my flesh
Cutting into my skin like a second dress


I remember it so clearly


Maybe that is why I wear it around my neck
This bloody weight specially made of
Gossamer wings and tenacity


Such a tiny throne for a unwanted king

Ask and answer

I often ask myself silly questions I would not dare bring up to anyone else.

Thing that make me blush or smile. Things that make me cry awhile.

I ask myself these things because they help me feel alive.

For awhile I have the will to survive.

What kind of future will she have?

Will I be there or will I be dead?

How can I make her happy?

How will she feel if I hold her on my lap, even when she is 20?

I ask myself because I can.

I ask myself so that I may continue till the end.

Race wars

Parenting is one of the most difficult things in the world. You have this tiny person who depends on you. A person you must watch grow into this not so tiny adult. All the while you must feed them, clothe them, make sure they stay clean, house them, educate them, etc. At times they do not allow this to happen. They will fight you, and often times, they will win.
One popular belief is that your parenting style is already set in stone. It is your race that decides what kind of parent you are.

Latino/Mexican/Hispanic parents are absent. They tend to yell a lot and be a bit helicopterish but they are loving as well. They may lean towards abusive but in a way that their children joke about later in life. They are all about family. Not as accpeting of uniqueness. 

Caucasian America parents are smothering. They strive to be their childs friend first and a parent dead last. They are the fun ones. You can get away with murder. Literal murder and they would still root for your success. They are not smart and should not be trusted. This is due to the fact that they seem perfect but are quick to disown children. They do not value family but inside value appearance. 
Asian parents are prone to abuse. Like white families they have a tendency to disown their children for various means. They care more about work and grades then anything else. There is no time for fun with them.
Black parents are the poster child of abuse and neglectful parenting.  They do not care about their children at all. Actually they are pretty quick to beat them for looking the wrong way. Like the rest above they can have their good moment but it is so rare. They also value appearance but it goes hand and hand with strength. As long as you are not caught by those in charge, you can do anything. From selling drugs, being a bully, to outright mudering and torturing people. A black parent will protect their child at all cost all the while punishing them for being born. 

See these?

These are fucking sterotypes. But they are so ingrained into american society that we are ok with that. Black parents are already seen as a danger to their children well before they are even born. White families are seen to be a mistake. Perfect but still a mistake in the making. Asian parents are seen as though they are preparing for an academic war. Hispanic/Latino/Mexican parents are probably the only ones seen in a decent light but even they are assumed to be absent all the the time and abusive. 

These are stereotypes we allow to exsit. No one is trying to change then at all. 
I am a black mom to a biracial little girl. 

I admit I freaking suck at being a parent. She just went to bed today without dinner.

Why? 

Cause I took her to church and struggled to keep her entertained as she screamed her little head off every time someone dared look her way. Of course this was the last 30 mins or so. Still she pooped herself out, refused to eat dinner, and instead went to bed. 

I am not doing this with a guide. To me not eating before going to bed is horrible. 

But it is a mistake many parents make. 

I can tell you about one time my daughter went to take a poop. I guess she got lost cause she ended up going into her room and taking a giant shit in a bucket. She hid that bucket then went to wipe her butt. Since there was piss in her potty (yes she made it to the potty to pee) I assumed she farted in her room. I didn’t find the poop bucket to close to an hour after. I had sprayed something in her room to kill the smell. It worked for that hour but came back. So I went to investigate and saw the bucket. 

Now here is the part where most people would assume I went sterotype black on her mocha ass but I didn’t. Instead I sat her down and talked to her. I made her clean the bucket and she wasn’t allowed to play with toys for a few hours. 

I am a black parent but I am not a sterotype. I am not a statistic and my race should not condemn me as one. 

I know many parents would have spanked or even beat the shit out of their kids for that. Not me!

What is found above is how I have seen people describe each race and their parebting styles. Of course these are told to me by people who are bot of that race. If they are that race then they are joking about how they survived this or that. 

I mean yay you parent beat you euth an extention cord and you lived to see another day. Sucks to so though that others did not. 

Abuse is not funny at all.

Saying one race is a better parent is not right.
Your race doesn’t automatically win you parenting points. 

Your past, your surrounding,  your support system is what decides your parenting style. 

If you grew up in an abusive home it does not mean you will automatically be a horrible parent.  Nor does it mean you will automatically be a good parent. There are so many factors that are in play in deciding  your parenting style. So why the fucking superman do people think that race is one of them. 

I have met some wonderful parents and I have met some shitty parents. I can assure you that race wasn’t the decuding factor.

So…why is this ok? 

Why is it ok to sterotype someone as being a shit parent?  

Why is this normal and accepted by everyone?

I do not rightly know but it needs to stop. 

Bleed in thy name

An often cliche question right before one dies

“Where is God”

The devote Christian cries.

Before the trigger is pulled

And brain matter is allowed to splatter 

A question is asked

Though the answer doesn’t matter.

As they run place to place

A students blood freash on thier face

They ask a question 

Though they don’t truly care

A cliched question

A poetic end

“Where is God

The supposed Saviour to us all?”

Only a bullet wound 

is the respected response. 

I was reading an article on facebook (I am cheap and will not buy a news paper) and saw that there was a school shooting. Actually, there where multiple school shootings. In some people died while in others people where badly wounded. Still someone suffered in the end. 

I know Christians who want to kill themselves.  Despite it being a sin in their religion, they want to end it. I am not saying religion is a hoax due to that. It helps so many people; but it is not a save all heal all thing. Same can be said for those who do not believe in the idea of religion. 
The thing I am getting at is everyone suffers. Everyone experiences some sort of pain. Yet the one question many of us ask ourselves during this time is is there a God. If we believe or not he does come up. It is ingrained into many of our societies that he is real, so when feeling depressed is often hard to not think of him….or her….or them. 

So the cliche of the day before the trigger is pulled

        “Where is God?”

God made a promise

How do you see me? Care to pray to bring me closer to you? I have been watching for awhile now but don’t bother hoping that you will be saved. This is a test you need to survive. It is needed for you to succeed in life. Blood on your hands and knees. I love the sounds you make as you grieve. Mock pity as you repent not understanding that you good luck as been spent.

Touch yourself in unholy ways yet beg me to save you on weaker days.

I do not think you know, but this is the way to save your pitiful soul.

Olivia

Letters in her blood

She is full of love

Questions never told

Cause she is afraid of what they say 

Instead she smiles

Whispers silent like

Coveres up with blackened wings

All the things that were meant to stay dreams

This is not all what it seems

This is not what it was suppose to be

Question held closely

Answer only with doubt

Try to hold on only

She can’t help but want out

Her demons scream her name

Confuse her into going insane

Still she goes on living

Goes on believing that all will be ok

It is not a lie she is wishing

But a faith not held by most

She is but a dreamer

Not tempted by her ghost. 

Forgive me for I have sinned

I have loved and I have felt
An emotion close to death.
I have struggled till I bleed.
Questioned lies and refused to leave.

Forgive me as I sin because what I feel can be explained as something close to contempt.

To a hatred so full of rage,  not even hell could fathom my pain

Excuse me as I sin again. Curse the name who brought so much shame. Curse to hell over and over again.

So much blood…so much lost. Does it even matter the cost?

When a fellow man stabbed another behind their backs?
Robbed them of a life so dear.

How am I suppose to feel???
Tell me Lord , for I have sinned, and I will do it over and over again.
Damn him to hell for what he has done.

People lie and say he tried to be the perfect son.

Using your name to commit such crimes!
And if this was all right
What does that make me???
Just a mindless sheep lost in despair.
No please God don’t let this be.
Don’t let this man be the key.           

Don’t let him give power to the hate.
To fuel the fires that would destroy heavens gates.
In your name sin was done. Man took the life of a mother’s son.
Said his goodbyes and he huddled and sobbed. Said his goodbyes before his life was robbed.

Please God no more. Stop!
Preachers talking about how this an act of you.
Snatching away the freedom we thought we knew.
Taking stuff

Fighting

Done

Media changes stories as they go along and yet there are moms without their kids, fathers who look back and can’t remember the last time they laughed.
What’s the point in smiling when evil is allowed to be free. Death was welcomed, but the demons thrive, covering, themselves in your holy light.

What say we the sheep who are blamed for our brethren killing in your name.
What say we as we gather close, our children to young to know such a place.
Crying tears and living in disgrace. Because we dared to live by your means when our loved ones and friends are being killed on the streets.

Excuse me Lord as I sin.
As I question how nearly losing a friend is ok to those who spread your words laced with hate. Preaching how this is our fate because we choose to lay with those of the same sex.
Blown away and scattered far
forced to live alone or not live at all.
What life am I suppose to lead?

Why God why?
Why do we allow free speech to turn us into monsters?
Why God? Why!!?

Why am I hanging my head in shame.
Why do I have the urge to forsake your name because others hate me so. Because people take your word and twist it to fit their needs, killing those they deem unworthy to breath. Different zones are destroyed daily.

In your  Lord…in your name

Excuse me as I sin once more.
I don’t know what to do. Instead of uniting we are dividing. Between what’s black and white, no longer grey. No more of this guessing game.
Speak to me my lord, tell me what to do. Cause I am at a loss about why a man would shoot up a place and still people defend him. While I am conflicted with being happy for his death but sad that he didn’t suffer more. What kind of Christian am I to allow this rage to festor and grow. Until I don’t know who I am anymore.

Please Lord. Make it clear what path is right and which path is driven by fear.

Pass

Passionate surprise
There is danger in her eyes
Come clean upon the slate
Dying is her fate
She slips into a dream
And starts to demands once remembering

She isn’t suppose to feel
But the dreams make it real
Danger in her eyes
Addicted to her lies
Dying is her only choice
Yet if you listen to her timid voice
You will find
Something sane and yet not so nice.

I like and hate this
But these are my mistakes to bear
Silly how I once believed
That you would always be there
I write to make dreams come true
I write to get over you
I write to protect
To grow
To show
I write because it is the only thing I know.