Wednesday, March 18, 2009

My Fantasy

I fantasize about you.

On the bed face down with your head turned to the side. I pour warm chocolate slowly down your back until it pools at the small.

I fantasize that the chocolate seeps down into your bottom mound and disappears. This is when I lick it from that place and continue till I reach the back of your neck.

I fantasize about you.

Having a cherry in your navel and I tie the stem with my tongue. I remove it from that place holding it with my teeth. I drag the cherry up your stomach, past your chest, and we share it in a kiss.

I fantasize about you.

Covering your ... with that chocolate syrup then licking every drop of it away.

I fantasize about you.

The back of your neck and your luscious lips dripping honey and me kissing it away.

I fantasize about you and I can't wait till I see you.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Cold Bed

When the party is over it's time to go to the after party. When the club closes we walk over to the all night club. Last call just means beer run.

When there is no place left to go we'll just go to the streets, or we'll ride the freeways till there is just enough gas to get home.

When we get home everything is where it was before. The bed is ice cold. You take a shower, or run bath water. You heat up left overs from two days ago and entertain yourself with late night television, sometimes the early morning show.

You place yourself between the frigid covers and the sound of your own tears is your lullaby. The bed seems colder this night, colder than the night before

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


When I gave you my number you said you would call. I've trained myself not to trip off of that type of thing because either way rain don't fall here any more.

So you said you liked me and that I peaked your curiosity, but you kissed the guy that kisses every guy. What does that make you? I wonder, what does that make me? It's ok because rain don't fall here anymore.

I gave you my heart and committed to you my soul. For the first time in a long time a drop of rain fell to the floor.

©Christopher f. Brown 2009

Lovers Kiss

He could dance on water and liked to play with the clouds. I saw him run with the wind and then meditate under a tree. When he did a field of yellow, purple, and red came to be.

I asked him, staring into his big brown eyes, why with everything that he could do did he cry before the rain?

He smiled and kissed me, then he flew away.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Fear of Love

Why should I fear you?

You said you would always love me and would never forsake me. You killed yourself for me so that I would not die eternally.

I think maybe they are wrong.

I think somehow they messed up the words. What should have been revere was written as fear. This way the one’s that claimed your name but not your way could control me and the rest.

“Its not I but he who is above me that commands it.”

I know enough to recognize the lies they claim to be your truth. The truth is beyond my feeble grasp and I know that I lack understanding. Someone told that is the first sign of wisdom but I would never say that myself. It is against the humility that you command me to have.

You have given all of us two eyes to see and a mind to think, a mind to comprehend. When we can not it’s mostly because it is beyond what we can and should not try. We want to understand, we want to know, we try to see in vain what is so obviously in front of us yet we just can not.

We want to know because we already do but do not believe. We look far and see wide because we are blind to what is near.

We accept fearing you because how can you love someone when you do not know how to love yourself.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

The center of the truth

What if people who thought they were separate were really the same? The things that we think are two separate and opposing forces are really two parts of one whole; or better still only two pieces of some complex puzzle?

What if it was not my 10,000 nor your 5,000 but the truth’s 7,500? Maybe then it would not have taken generations to figure…

I'm wrong and so are you. We have partial truths which does not work and we’re too stubborn see how half right we both are. In the middle of the center lies the truth but then when was it every about that

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Friday, March 6, 2009


Stop standing over my shoulder; breathing your hot breath as you whisper my failings in my ear; as if I did not know them.

Quit looking at me and get out of my way! Don’t you dare point at that again; I know its there and don’t you look at him or her and compare me. I know who and what I am and I know what I am and am not capable of. I will not feel less than happy for the blessing given to others. How horrible of a person would that make me.

My day will come and my time will pass just like everyone else’s. You are the one who wants everyone to be silent. It is the only way they can hear you. You are the one that wants everyone to slow down and ultimately stop. It’s the only way you can catch up.

I command you like the devil you are


The only power you have is that which is given to you. Your words are only discontent and lies. You preach them as unfathomable certainties to all that can stand your stench. What is worse, some believe.

You are not big enough, grand enough, magnanimous enough to stand in my way. I'll take the advice of my friend and move around.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

A Child's Crush or Ryan

You scare the hell out of me.

You are the possibility of "What if?"

What if I had the courage to put my feelings and insecurities aside? What if I could open my mouth and in doing so open my heart and tell you how I felt back then? Enough time has passed for me to say "felt" and "back then". I was only a child with a little child mind, so small I did not even know why I liked to play in your hair, and still remember that particular color of blue your jacket was which you wore everyday; except in the summer.

I learned that it is called a "crush" and I had a strong one for you. I dared not tell you. It became safe to do so later because my mind was child no more (in that sense) and my heart became tough. The possibility of "what if" was no longer, and separating the chains of the past to move freely in the future is what I said; what I believed. Honestly I was lonely and my toughness was broken and in the process of healing. It was true that I was moving forward braking away from past, but .000001% of me always thinks there is a chance.

"Maybe just maybe things will all fall in place."

What I should have said back then I will say now. The years passed will be made up and happily will be ever after. I just need to catch up.

Of course it wasn't so. You have your own life and I have mine. That past might have been the only chance for us because this is today and it's just not so.

Sometimes I reminisce and remember being that child; running my fingers through you hair. Damn.

Well at least you know and that chain is gone. It would have been too small anyway.

We all have to grow.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

The Voice

While dreaming a dream that I can hardly remember, a voice that I could only slightly make out; told me everything that I claim to know or knew; my entire universe and everything in it was as small as a nucleotide. The voice said that it also had somewhat the same function and was one of many the same and not.

Dust and pollen filled the air surrounding me; fish jumped out of the ocean; higher and higher. When they could go no further their fins turned to wings as they began to fly.

The voice said that everything that could ever happen already did and at the very same time never has. The voice said I messed up when I created time because it only serves to separate me, but I have to live with it now.

The voice said that everything that I could think of is already there because i had thought it long ago. The Voice said at the very same time nothing exists because I have not been born yet and maybe never will. All my thoughts are correct and in at the same. Just like I can not see a single element of the molecule that makes up water with my own eye yet claim to understand the ocean, so too can I not see with my own eye my own universe and yet claim to understand the...

The voice went silent and everything faded away. I was in the dark alone with my questions and then questioning my answers.

Before I woke up I did hear it again. It said to me

"In your current state of existence you can not comprehend. Simply mentioning it to you destroys all that you know to be and then I have to start again."

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Mon Petite Cher or Okan Buru part three

“Come on Cher; Your grandpa is coming to see you today so we have to get everything cleaned up.”

“Mama you think he will tell me the story again?”

“I think he will if you ask him too.”

“Ok I will ask him.”

An hour later the little girl looked out the window hearing the unmistakable sound of the rocks and dirt being crushed under the tires of father’s new car. Momma called it a “Bel Air.” Momma told her that daddy bought it with the money he saved. She remembered momma telling her that it was the first time he ever did anything for himself. She would sit behind the big steering wheel and turn it left and right while daddy would wash it; long she promised not to tough the big stick on the side. She made sure she never did

“Ah Mon petite fille come give yo grand daddy a big hug and kiss no.”

The old man whisked the little girl and her white dress and her two big poofy braids into the air as if he was twenty years younger. He spun her high blocking the sun; kissed her; and landed her to the ground.

“Come on in dad. You like that ride?”

“Oh yeah, that was real smooth, like we rode on air.”

Inside Momma brought grandpa a cup of tea in what she called “The good China” She only ever used if for special guests. Grandpa said he did not like her using it just for him but you could tell that he did.

“Grandpa tell me the story again please.”

“Ah Mon petite cher, you like the scary stories don’t you.” He said as he lifted her on his knee tickling her neck along the way.

“Well Cher long ago before your father or even your grandpa was born; way back in Africa just when the white men had started to come and take us away there was a young and powerful medicine man. The young medicine man was so powerful that he was known all through out many kingdoms. Well Cher; one day the most powerful king of the most powerful kingdom sent for him. The king asked the medicine man to heal his only son and his only daughter. You know Cher back then men where allowed to have many different wives and the king had the most but he only ever had the one son and one daughter.

The medicine man came and used all of his herbs….

“Like grand mere use to?”

“Ye Cher just like your grand mere. He used all his herbs and his other medicine but nothing worked. He then decided to use his powerful magic but that did not work either; they still were ill. He thought that if his herbs and magic were not working then maybe it was the spirits. He then told the king that he had to commune with the Great Spirit keeper of the dead and see if it was truly their time to pass into his realm. Well Cher the king and the medicine man went far outside the village to a place where the jungle touched the dessert; the dessert touched the sea; and the mountains met with the flats. There was a small hut and they went inside. The medicine man built a magic fire from very secret herbs and very secret magic and he began to talk to The Great Spirit keeper of the dead. The Great Spirit keeper of the dead told the medicine man that it was their time to pass into his house and there was nothing that could be done. The Great Spirit told the medicine man that this was the order of things since the beginning of time and would be till the end. Oh I tell you Cher the king did not like this at all. He told the medicine man that he wanted to speak to the Great Spirit of all. Now you see cher that was forbidden. The Great Spirit of All was old, very very old; and liked to sleep. He did not like to be bothered by anybody man or spirit. The medicine man told the King this but the king oh got real mad then. The King He said

“How dare you speak to me in such a way! I am the king of kings in this land and every land that I see therefore I am liken to a god. The Great Spirit of all will listen to me because when I speak it is his voice that comes out of my mouth. If you do not talk to the Great Spirit of all on my behalf then I will take you into the jungle and burry you up to your neck and leave you there for all the wild and unknown to get you.”

Cher I tell you the medicine man was scared. The medicine man told the king that he would try but it might take all of his power and even then it still might not work. The Great Spirit of all being so old and being asleep would be cranky you know like how I bet your daddy is when his car gets dirty.”

The little girl and her mother laughed

“The medicine man used up all his magic and herbs. He bathed himself in blood and dirt and for two days and two nights he talked to every spirit in the spirit world. They all told him to stop what he was doing. They told him that it was forbidden to even try to talk to “The old one” that’s what the other spirits called The Great Spirit of All but he couldn’t stop you know the king would have him killed. Finally on the third morning there was a great thunder that could be heard everywhere Cher and a flash of lightning that crossed the sky in the day. The sun turned black and the morning blue sky turned to the black of night. The water Cher turned to fire and trees turned to dessert, everything went opposite. They said even some of the people that had just passed rose up out of the ground. A big booming voice from the sky spoke to the medicine man and said

“Child of earth and air why do you seek me when you know that it is forbidden?”

“Forgive me Great Spirit of all things; creator of all things but…”

“Just then the king interrupted the medicine man and said to the sky.”

“It is I, your direct child; King of Kings and lord of all that my eye may lay rest upon. I seek you. My heirs are to enter into the house of the dead and I command that you intercede.”

The medicine man knew that this was bad the king talking to the Great Spirit like this; like he was his equal. The medicine man knew that this was very bad indeed. The Great Spirit said

“Your greatness is not. Your kingdom is because I am that gave it to you. You are because I am that made all. Your children of earth and air shall be with you no longer because I have planned it so.”

The king grew enraged and said

“It was I who tamed the land and drove all the beasts away so my people could have a safe home. It was I who defeated and defended the peoples across the land and made those we vanquished our servants. It is I who demand that you heal my heirs and not let them pass into the house of the dead until the produce heirs of their own. I demand this for I am King”

“I tell you the earth shook and the black sky now turned to fire and the solid earth turned to flowing lava. The Great Spirit said

“Who are you child of earth and air to make demands of me? Can you child of earth and air create earth or air? Can you create another sun and cause it to rise and set? I look at you with my eye and see your smallness yet your eyes can not even comprehend that you might see. If I did speak to you with what you call a voice in my own words this world you stand upon; the place you call the spirit world; and all other worlds would be destroyed and created all over again countless times. My plan is final and it is my will that is will.”

“I tell you Cher the King was so mad that he turned his back on the spirit and tried to walk away. When he did his feet turned into roots like that big ole tree you have in your yard. The spirit said to the King.

“You have shown your ungratefulness for all that I have given you. I shall take away your kingdom. You shall become a servant to a most strange and cruel master in a land across what you call the sea. Your body shall not die until it experiences every pain and cruelty that your strange masters can inflict and that is known to what you call time.”

The sky went back to blue; the dessert back to trees and all was normal again. One of the Kings solders fell threw the hut opening bleeding from a hole in his side. He said that the village had been attack by strange “white”men that carried sticks of thunder and smoke. The sticks of thunder and smoke made rocks pass threw even the toughest warrior’s shield. These “White” men burned the village to the ground and captured everyone that was still alive and put them on big ships in the sea. Before the solder died he told the medicine man and the king that they were on their way. As he closed his eyes the “White” men grabbed the King and the medicine man chained them and took them to the ship.

Now the medicine man was angry Cher.”

“Because he was taken too?”

“That’s right Mon Cher. He felt why should he have to suffer when all he did was what the king asked him to do? He felt it was wrong because if he had not done what the king said he would have killed him. This is when the spirit called “the bad one” came. This spirit was no joke Cher. He would make people go crazy just for fun and turn good men bad and bad men worse. The bad one said to the medicine man

“It’s not fair. Why should you suffer? You just did what the king asked. See, the great one is not so great to let you suffer. If you agree to serve me, let me abide in your soul I will give you more power; greater power than you could imagine; I will make your life not end until the end of all.”

“Be quiet.” The medicine man said to the bad one. “You can only create and tell lies your only power is the power that people give to you.”

The bad one went away but Cher the next day on the ship they beat him and poked at him with hot metal sticks. These strange men spoke weird languages to him. When it was time for them to eat they fed them scraps that not even growler out back would eat. They did horrible things to everyone and if you looked too sick they would just toss you over the side of the ship. If a woman had a baby with her they took the baby and threw it overboard. I tell you cher it was a very bad time.

All night the medicine man argued with the bad one screaming and saying no, no, no to his offer till one of the ships men came down and said to the medicine man

“So you like to scream and yell do you, Ill make an example of you for the rest of these monkeys to see.” The man took out his knife and put it too the cheek of the medicine man. He then cut from where his lip stopped all the way to his ear. The medicine man screamed in pain and the man said “You still won’t shut up.” So he did the same thing to the other side. The medicine man in more pain screamed louder to which the man said “Maybe if I cut out your tongue that will quiet you. He reached in the medicine mans mouth and pulled out his tongue. He took his knife and began to slowly cut at the side of the tip. In the middle of cutting it looked as if the medicine man’s teeth began to grow. The shipman continued to cut but then stopped when the medicine man’s eyes turned black and his hair caught fire. The medicine man broke free from his chains and ate the ship man. He also ate anybody who got blood on them. The next day the medicine man was chained again. He thought it was a dream but he felt like his magic was returning and more powerful than before. He also noticed that all of the villagers would not come near him. He also smelled a new scent. It smelt something like when he would go see the metal smiths of the other villages but different and this time it was coming from the people Cher. In fact it was the people; and it made him hungry. He had once been to a village where his cousin was the medicine man and who served the bad one. There the people ate the people they captured and this was the same smell. That night the bad one came and told him that he accepted him into his soul he now had the power to seek revenge on the king, on the villagers, on all who crossed his path.

At first the medicine man did not do anything. He did not want to believe it was true but with each night his hunger grew worse and worse. Then one night the ship men moved him from the others; thinking he was sick to another part of the ship. This part of the ship is where they had the king chained. They had the King on one wall and the medicine man was chained to the other. When the ship men were gone the medicine man changed and ate the king. That was not all. The medicine man was so hungry that he ate everyone that he could capture that night. By the time the night was almost over the only person that was left was the captain of the ship and by morning he was gone too.”

“What happen then grand pa?”

“Oh well they say that the ship she washed up on one of those island where they have other grand mere’s and have other Mon Petite Cher’s” He said as he again tickled her neck

The raven that had been in windowsill let out a loud “kaw” scaring the mother, the daughter, and the father although he would have never admitted to it. The little girl wrapped her arms around her grandfather and squeezed tight.

“Oh Cher I thought you liked the scary story.” He said stroking her hair.

The raven let out another loud “kaw” as it flew off into the setting sun blending in with the shadows of the willow trees and the darkness of the approaching horizon.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

My Pen

My pen takes me places where my voice might if I had the courage to let it.

As a kid I was told that being black my feet held a natural rhythm. When I tried them I found that it was not so and to this day they have to try a little harder when chasing a beat

When I was a little older someone put a basketball in my hand and said

"Take a shot"

I missed.

I continued to miss and miss until the bright yellow sun turned as orange as that basket ball. Through out the night I still missed and my only company was the big bright white moon. White as the baseball they gave me the next day.

Try as I might I could not throw that damn thing past second base which incidentally I had trouble running to because of my asthma.

They tried putting me on the line with the rest of the men wearing helmets and pads. The patten leather pig skin kept slipping out of my hands. It worked for a while but then the rest of the men continued to grow while little old me just decided not to show.

With my pen I wrote out the notes in music class. The trumpet was too hard, the sax the same. My hands seem to have the same affliction as my feet when I tried to coordinate the drums and just when I got the hang of that "DO, RE, ME, FA, SO, LA, TI, DO" that first "DO" went a lot lower and last "DO" I could not even hear anymore. They pulled me aside and told me that everything in between was off and that maybe my ears could not hear the tone anymore. They said I should stop, and not try anymore.

With my pen I drew stick figures in art class. My friends, now that's talent; from their minds they create wizards, warlocks, super heroes and villains. They made fantasy lands with three suns and earths with no moon. Yeah my head to hand dint work like that. My earths looked more like eggs; horses were cats; dogs were rats; and my rabbits were always said to be aliens. I never got that I mean seriously it was a rabbit.

With my pen I sat in the dark and cried my eyes out the first time my heart had ever been broken. Sade filled my ears and the pain that ripped through my soul I was convinced; absolutely sure it would never go. I finally went to sleep and when I woke my pen was still there so I decided to write it all down. Accustom to failure I hid it all away until one day, by accident really, someone said it was good, really good. I said thank you looked at my pen and thought through it all this, my pen, had been there. I then said

"Why the hell dint anybody say anything before."

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


The man on the corner asked "If I got that". I shook my head without making eye contact and kept walking.

The man on the next corner said

"You listen to rap? You need some DVD's ?"

I shook my head without making eye contact and kept walking.

The woman on the corner after that did not say anything at all. She tried to hand me a little booklet with Jesus on it. She had another with a lion laying down with a lamb. It made me a bit hungry as I reminisced about the Lamb Tikka Masala I had last night. l waved my hand without making eye contact and kept walking.

When I crossed the street to the next corner I found it was empty. I took off my hat and placed it on the ground. I sat on the fire hydrant and began to play my guitar.

I sat for hours playing and watching people put paper and metal in my hat while most of the time; most of the people shook their heads or waved their hands.

And nobody; not one, made eye contact with me.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


I made you go because nothing I could ever do would ever make you stay. I cursed your name as an enemy because I could not handle it as a friend. I tried to dim your light because at the time it was the only light that would shine, but I knew it would never shine as mine. I made you hate the day I was born because the day I fell in love with you I knew I could never be yours.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Can I be?

Can I be the one that touches you?
Can I be the one that holds you?
Can I be the one to show your mind a state mental ecstasy unknown to the common man?
Can I be the one to show you what its like to feel every cell in you body?
Can I be the one that shows you what the eagle sees when he soars above the clouds and what the dolphin sees when she dives below the reefs?
Can I be the one you call when you are in an emotional nirvana or suicidal depression?
Can I be the one that pops in your head during the middle of the day and interrupts your train of thought just for no apparent reason?
Can I be the though that makes you smile?
Can I be the one that knows what you're thinking?
Can I be the one that finishes your sentences?
Can I be the one that makes you feel such a way that no man made language has words for?
Can I be that one, and in time the only one?

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


Your words lie and your heart deceives. When I looked into your eyes I saw nothing because they are empty, they are caves because you have no soul. I do not fear you because I am protected by my god from you so I wonder; what destruction did you come to cause? What pain do you bring? Does the world need such and evil; to see the evil with-in maybe?

You can not harm me but I wonder what torture you will bring to those you can? Insanity, incurable disease, or is your plot simple? Open the doors to temptation by simply exciting curiosity in those whom should be the wiser.

They said your best trick was convincing the world that you did not exist. I say that in this age we call modern your best one yet has been bewitching them into believing your creator did not.

Just as you lay in the hearts of those who serve you so does your creator in the hearts of those who serve him.

Again I say I do not fear you, so why are you here?

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


The mother loses her only one. She holds the pain inside therefore she can not cry. Innocence taken and with it all the tears are never known. No eye has cried all of it is locked inside. One did cry and cried for the world. The world took his blood.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Tears of blood

"I shant shed a tear; the world did me wrong and I shall rejoice in it's pain."

Man cries this to the heaves as he scorches and spurns the earth. They walk through its realms and plains of desolation and shed not a single drop.

Who shall cry for the blood of the dead? Shall it be the innocent and the angels alone?

If so shall it be a mere tear, or one of blood?

Only god knows.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

The New's

So did you want me to be angry or would you rather I slit my wrists? Would you like it if I ran out into traffic and prayed that the biggest big rig did not miss?

Should I be stereotypical and find a bridge or be extremely dramatic and find a cliff. Actually I know just the perfect one.

I know you would not like if I used a gun because that's way too tacky and messy and, well, I might use it on you.

I hate to disappoint, I truly do, but I think it best to go on. What you thought would be a bomb to me is more like a change in the wind.

I know it's a hard thing to hear that the news that would have totally crushed and devastated you (the news that you took ever so much joy and pleasure in delivering to me) is to me the same as the weather outside.

See I think that is the thing. Where you stress out, lose sleep, gain/lose weight, turn to drugs, cry, or whatever else reaction fear brings to you. Me, I do not fear the unknown and have faith that whatever the situation is it will workout for the better.

I know, being my age and living where I do you've always questioned my optimism.

So I am terribly sorry to disappoint and I hate to steal your thunder, but your "N.E.W.S." isn't really "New's" to me. In fact it's really old, tired and very used. I've been through this before, it's not my first time, and it very well may happen again. It's that cliché about "It" being "A part of life" and all that.

Well anyway what's the New's with you?

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Proclamation of My Emancipation

My emancipation is for me to make a proclamation of.

I proclaim my heart to be free from self destructive tendencies that former lovers exploited for their various reasons and their gains.

I proclaim my mind to be open to all knowledge and free to think, contemplate, and ponder "What if?" I have the discernment to recognize the lies told daily by society, TV and radio, and other minds walking in dark clouds, so thick that their eyes can not see.

I emancipate my soul to praise and worship my god, not seeking approval nor direction form others that claim to know and worship my god better than me. My god asked me to seek him personally but not privately. I am a child of his and in him I have many brothers and sisters in him whom I love dearly but none of them knows quite exactly his plan for me, so I have to agree to disagree.

I proclaim my voice to be free; free to laugh BOLDLY and speak LOUDLY and to say whatever is on my mind however "FUCKED UP" it may seem to be. I only say it because its the truth as I see it. I'm not infallible. I am only man like everyone else so I could be wrong, but at least I said it. Did you?

I emancipate my hands to write; to write, and write, and write, and write freely and passionately and to never stop until they can not grasp a pen nor pencil or even strike a key.

I proclaim to love myself; not in a cocky or self-centered way. I love myself the way I was, the way I am, and the way I will be.

I emancipate ME.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Jessie or Okan Buru part 2

Jessie ran down the back alley way huffing and puffing. It reminded him of his track days in highschool. When he put his mind to it no one could beat him but the coach did not like him. Also what kind of money could a person make running track unless you won the Olympics? He was 20 years old the next Olympics would not be for another 4 years and by then he would be too old and too slow.He turned and hid behind one of the dumpsters. It would not be long before the police made it to the bank but he needed to rest. He took off his ski mask to wipe the sweat that had built up under it. He had forgotten that he had on the black face paint underneath and got it all over his hands. No matter though, he had the money in his bag and the back up car was down the street just like he planned.The damn guard got fucking brave and shot Manny so Jessie felt it only right that he shoot him first as an example to the rest of the people in the bank to not be a damn hero.

“We not fuckin playin! Just put the money in the damn bag and maybe you will live” It sounded good when he said it, he liked the way it sound it gave him a rush.

There was no time to wait. He could hear the sirens coming down the street. He took out the small plastic bag from the larger duffel bag that had a towel and a change of clothes. He took out his wrinkle free suit and began to undress in the alley.

“You are a fucking genius Jessie.” He said to himself. “Nobody would think a man in a suit would have robbed the bank. They will fuckin think im on my way to the fucking gym or something. You are a mutha fuckin genius.”

Jessie took his pants and shirt off and put them in a near by garbage can and set it on fire when he heard rustling behind another dumpster in the alley. He stopped for a moment and reached for the gun. He pointed it at the dumpster and kicked it. An alley cat ran from underneath and out the alley.

“Fuckin cat”

Jessie said smiling. He turned and a hand with long claws grabbed his neck. Jessie could not breathe and looking down he saw the body of a man. He tried to do some of his old kempo moves to get out but this guy was too strong. He looked in the face of his assailant and saw long sharp teeth like a tiger or something. The eyes were solid black and the thing had bat or dog ears that pointed straight up. The thing that terrified Jessie the most was the thing this man or beast, this monster did not have hair but fire and it did not burn him.

A flash of light hit the beast and it dropped Jessie. Jessie took off in a sprint. Before Jessie could even get two steps away the thing stuck its clawed hand threw Jessie’s back. Everything went into tunnel vision and Jessie knew that it was over. He saw the same cat that he had chased away across the street licking his paw and the rubbing it over his head. The monster then pulled out Jessie’s heart. Jessie was still alive but he knew not for long. He fell face first to the ground with his head turned to the side. As everything grew dark he saw the man monster thing change shape into a raven and fly away.

©Christopher. F Brown 2009

Okan Buru

In the moonless night Devoux looked out from the watchtower to the sea. Some nights on the island when not even the stars were out you could not tell when the darkness of the night sky ended and the blackness of the sea began. Devoux looked again and he saw what looked like a ship; not just any ship but the “Reine mère“. Commandant told him and the rest of the men that she disappeared a month ago.

“Commandant!, Commandant!” Devoux said as he grabbed the nearest torch and raced down from the watch tower.”

“Commandant!” Devoux said seeing The Commandant at the bottom of the steps

“Get a hold of yourself Devoux.”

“Commandant…” Devoux gasping trying to catch his breath “The Reine mere, she is coming ashore.”

“Devoux you’ve been in the rum again. The Reine mère was lost weeks ago. Whatever it is that you saw it was whatever that lay at the bottom of your bottle.”

“No Commandant she is coming ashore. I be not drunk I tell thee truth come.”

The Commandant and Devoux went out onto the beach. The night still in its midlife and the swooshing of the waves against the rocks always calmed the Commandant. The slave rebels had just captured another plantation three months ago. The Commandant sent word asking for more troops to protect the outpost. The Reine mere was to have another fifty men with fifty guns, canons, sixty barrels of powder, rum, and new two hundred salves. Tonight the sea air offered no ease to The Commandant. The Reine mere was coming ashore but there was no captain, no crew, the mast and sail were torn and no lights below cold be seen. The only sound that could be heard was the creaking of the ship’s hull and it made its way to the island.

“Devoux go back and get all the men that you can find tell them to grab all their weapons. This could be another rebel trick.” The Commandant said to Devoux. “If this is another attempt then they shall be put back in chains where they belong. Now go and hurry”

Devoux ran off and The Commandant pulled his pistol and readied it to fire as he backed away. If it was a rebel trick why haven’t they landed yet? They were close enough to dock and make siege so why wait? It was the folly of the planters. They underestimated the intelligence of the slaves. They only saw them as beasts of burden, lower forms of ape that could speak. Their err was the reason they are gone. Their lives forfeit because they respect not the intelligence of others even if they be slave or ape. This night however The Commandant told himself he shall not make the same mistake, he told himself he would not let his men, his country fail as he retreated back waving Devoux’s torch.

The ship had made its way to the dock. Devoux had rallied all of the men and they were armed and ready for anything that the rebels bring.

Some of the men spoutted nonsense of it being a ghost ship. They said that the spirits of the dead guided the ship to the island and wanted nothing to do with it. The Commandant told those men if they were scared then they would be sent home to suckle at their mothers breasts. If they were men then they should grab their guns and come.

The men and the Commandant took four small boats to The Reine mere. The Commandant sensing that his men still had fear boarded the ship first. The smell entered his nose before his eyes were able to register that slave and crew where dead. Some looked as if they had been dead for weeks others where bloated and others looked fresh. The peculiarity of it was they looked as if they had been ravaged by some beast. The Commandant had seen what a pack of wild dogs could do and this looked the same. How could wild dogs be aboard the ship?

“Check below if you are not too coward.” He said to the men as they boarded and beheld the sight. Devoux being the youngest and never even seeing a battle or a dead body for that matter threw up over the side. “Ill forgive you this once Devoux be see to it that it never happens again. Now come with me. The rest of you spread out and look for survivors. This could still be a rebel trap.”

The Commandant and Devoux made their way to the captain’s quarters the captain’s log should tell him something of what’s going on. All the men, The Commandant and Devoux went stepping over bloated bodies and skeletons alike. Devoux trying to swallow back what was making its way up.

“Devoux you stand guard of the door let no one in, understand.”

“oui mon commandant.”

In the capain’s quarters the log lay open to blank pages The Commandant turned and the first entries were typical and standard protocol nothing that would explain or give any hint to the sites that he saw just outside. The captain’s private log was on the bed covered in dry blood he picked that up and began to read

“All these beasts seem to be scared of that one monkey they call “Okan Buru.” One of my crew that has learned their heathen monkey babble says that it mean “Bad One” They wont’ even be chained next to him. At first I would find all the ones that I chained around him dead in the morning so I moved him to the lower decks with the supplies. I was weary at first I though it was a trick of his to get food but for some reason this one, this “Okan Buru” does not eat yet does not suffer sickness. The more for the crew then.”

“This monkey Okan Buru is becoming a problem I think that he has eaten the rats on the boat. No good captain will admit that they have sea rats (that are not crew members) but we all do. Now they are gone; what’s more is that we have murder of ravens that have actually nested in the crows nest. There is a disease running through the monkeys as well that I think this Okan has given them. One day they are fine then the next day they are dead. Some look as if attacked by wild dogs Bisco tells me that the monkeys think that Okan has something to do with.”

“More slaves have died and it has only been a week. Im ten down now and it does not make sense there are no dogs on board and we have feed the ravens rotten meat with poison so they are gone. I am wondering if by chance this “Okan” monkey could be doing something. I had Bisco tell me his story. In their land he was apparently some powerful witchdoctor to the most powerful king in the land. They said that the king owed all his power and might to this “Okan” but one day he had a vision that the king would lose if he went into battle with another kingdom. The king saw this as treason and had Okan buried in the jungle with only his head sticking out. The story goes that Okan being a powerful witchdoctor had direct contact with the spirit world and sold his soul to what we call the devil. In exchane for his soul he recived great magic and immortality the catch is that he spends the rest of his days in hunger for blood and flesh. Okan then put a curse on the king and the village and after sickness came to the village so did the white men.

Obviously this is more monkey nonsense. If this Okan was so powerful then how come he was captured like the rest of the monkeys? If these monkeys want fear then I will show them fear.”

The Commandant turned and could barely make out the last entry

“To anyone who finds this the crew and all the slaves are dead I.”

There the log stops. The Commandant not being one to give way to fear notice that he had not heard any noises save the ship’s hull creaking. He though that he should at least hear the men going about. He went outside and stepped over the bodies to see Devoux leaning over the side of the ship again.

“I told you the next time I saw that Devoux….”

Before he could complete his sentence a hand with long talon like nails grasped his neck. A man that was more beast looked upon him. His teeth were long and all razor sharp and its breath had the stench of blood on it His eyes had no whites only black his ears were more that of a bat or dog than man and his hair gone instead he had a flame that did not burn him. The Commandant fired his pistol but it did nothing. The beast bit into The Commandants face leaving only eyes and the top of his head, still alive The Commandant watched at the beast turned into a raven and flew ashore.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


The sons and daughters of Kings and Queens, Warriors, Priest and Priestess, and other great leaders were captured and forced into slavery.

The sons and daughters of slaves became sharecroppers, farm and field hands, rail workers, and a few became the forgotten majority of cowboys,

The sons and daughters sharecroppers, farm and field hands, rail workers, and a few forgotten majority of cowboys, moved across states and plains to become maids, butlers, formans, full time and part time.

The sons and daughters of maids, butlers, formans, full time and part time chased a dollar and a dream and became pimps, hustlers, poets, musicians, doctors, lawyers, city, county, and state workers.

The sons and daughters of pimps, hustlers, poets, musicians, doctors, lawyers, city, county, and state workers sought a new dream and became solders, generals, senators, governors, drug dealers, rappers, athletes, and presidents.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

a man walks into life

A man I saw the other day was walking around in circles . I stopped him and asked him

"Where are you going?"

He said

"Anywhere I please."

Today I saw a happy homeless woman and I asked her

"Do you need a place to lay your head and rest?"

She replied to me

"My bed is thousands of times larger than yours and no offense, but is probably better for my back than yours."

I had a conversation with a blind man of 20 years. He told me that in the past 20 years he has seen things that no one could imagine. He said that he knows the color of love and the feel of hate. He said for 15 of those 20 years he had the most beautiful lover, so beautiful no eye could even begin to behold.

A little kid asked me

"Do grows ups will he have more time to play?"

I told him "Yes if they become rich otherwise you have to get a job."

Then he said he hopes he never grows up.

I was running very late for work and I asked an old man what time it was and he said

"Son you have all of it that you need."

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


I understand the plea of the innocent criminal. I feel the tortured soul of the one that The Fates uses to bring humor into their domain. I see the suffering that his gleaming smile hides not so well. I understand the tongue of those whose land is only graced by the sun only then retreats to let darkness of confusion reign. The cold of harden hearts and forgotten souls are present and fact.

I've taught the knowledge that comes from the ones whom do not feel.

"Love nothing but worship all that love."

"Say nothing but seem to know all and every."

When, I wonder, why it was I stopped looking in the mirror?

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

The Truth

Some idiot said

"The truth will set you free."

What the idiot didn't say is what you are freed into. When you step into the light and everything becomes clear it's not (and more often than not) pretty. Sometimes you’re better off fantasizing in the dark.

Another idiot said

"Ignorance is bliss."

What that idiot didn’t say is that ignorance is not bliss but a lie. Ignorance is stagnate and festering with the guise of deception and has the foul stench of stupidity. Ignorance is that endless cycle that only stops when you chose it to.

This idiot says

"The truth is ugly and cold. It hurts more than you can imagine and one look cold turn you to stone. The thing is once you know the truth, and if you survive, you can never be ignorant again."

©Christopher F. Brown2009

Immature love, Immature rejection, Immature heart, Immature

So where do I go from here? So many roads traveled, so many trails blazed and waves made yet none has led to my heart's one and only desire. People tell me that my life has just begun. Does this mean that I must wait till it is almost over? I try, and try, and try, and tell myself

"If at first you don't succeed try, try, try again."

Now I ask. "When do I stop?"

I was told.

"Never give up and never say die, and never, under any circumstances, surrender."

It seems to me that the one thing I've only ever wanted; truly and deeply wanted; is mandated by heaven as for me to not to possess.

I see the joy and the unmistakable light it brings to those who have it yet for me it hurts more than anything. There is a place for it in my heart, my mind, my body, and my soul but it does not live there. Built for battle and trained for war I though love was what I was fighting for, but rejection has been my only friend.

Rejection has been father, sister, and cousin. Rejection has comforted me in those desperate times of need and has been the only love to know my bed. So for me love never really loved me. Honestly I don't think love even likes me. If love could hate then I would say it to be true. Every now and then love whispers in my ear


I see now that it is her way of reminding me rejection is my only. Rejection has never lied, cheated, or stole. He has always done what he was supposed to do. I guess even love needs something to laugh at. I wonder maybe if it’s me? When I'm feeling low and down in the dumps love passes by in the wind. She picks me up, dusts me off, dries my eyes and asks me if I'm ok. When I say "Yeah I'm ready for you." she says “good” and pushes me into the dumps again. She laughs as she flies away. I guess even love needs a good laugh.

What's funnier than to put cat nip on a string and watch the cat dance. Only you know that you'll never give it to him. What if the cat knew that you would never give? What if Romeo knew Juliet would die because of him? What if a king in battle knew that he was going to lose the war? Would they all still try?

Why do I try when there is no reason too? Why do I hate rejection when rejection has raised me and been has my best friend? Why do I even want for love when love has told me.

"I don't want you."

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


You are very beautiful. Don’t be confused because I turn
away from you. What you don’t see is the lustful looks in the eyes of the ones
around you. Most likely I would take the chance and speak if given a different
moment in history, yet this you have to know.

Your beauty to me is in your humility. I see that you know
the lure and the sway of a look, and you seem to know the power of a word, yet
your heart is humble. This is true beauty. So please forgive me and do not be
confused because I turn away. Like I said you are beautiful.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Insecurities of Man or Piety for an Asshole

What make you the way you are? From the assholes to the doormats your insecurities shine like silver on a summer day. You defile and disgust all to remain the center of attention. If you cannot claim the idea or topic as your own then you reticule it to death, for the simple fact that it was not yours. Your “friends” really piety you, and your so called other is most ashamed of you, but you can not see that.

What makes an asshole an asshole?

Is if the fact that their mountains are really molehills? Is it that what they claim to be 10,000 is only 1? When it comes down to it the only person that matters to them is them. In the end when they have pushed everyone away; when there is no one that is willing to play their little childish games and when there is no one better or worse they have to deal with. They have to deal with themselves. This is what really makes an asshole and I for one piety you.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

The Bloody alley

The little boy follows the other little boy with the red shirt untilall of his friends leave. The little boy knows that he walks past thatalley on the way home; he can get him there so he sits and waits. When he starts to pass the alley he throws a big rock at him hitting the little boy with the red shirt in the head. The boy falls down right infront of the alley way just like he planned. He runs across the street and drags him into the alley and starts beating on him.

“Don’t ever talk about me again”

He says while he wails on the boy in the red shirt. The boy in the red shirt finally comes to his senses and throws him off of him. The boy in the red shirt stumbles around and tries to swing but he trips and falls face down. The other little boy starts jumping on his back until there was crack that some what echoed in the alley. The little boy continued to beat the boy in the red shirt till he could not raise his fists anymore. His shirt was covered in blood and it was now as red as the other boy’s

“Why did you do that?” A voice said.

He did not try to run because he was too tired and he had nowhere to run to.

“Because he told me he liked me and I told him I liked him. Then he told everyone that I tied to kiss him but he did not tell that he kissed me back. Everybody makes fun of me now and I cant even go there now because the teachers they wanna talk to my momma and daddy If they find out that I aint got none then they gone try to put me in one of those houses with all of those people again and I’ll have to run away again. ”

“Why dint you tell his momma or daddy?”

“His momma and daddy don’t let me come over anymore they say I get the furniture dirty and I smell and I eat too much.”

“Well you got a daddy now come with me.”

The man in the fancy cloths wraps a towel around the boy covered in the blood of the boy in the red shirt.

“Ty take care of that” The man in the fancy cloths says to the other man in the fancy car.

The “Ty” man pours gas over everything in the alley and sets it on fire. The little boy watched the fire as they drove away, he had neverseen one that big before.

Over the next twenty years the boy slowly turns into the man in the fancy cloths and every so often he drives by the alley were it started. He has lots of money now and people respect him out of fear but he still whishes that he could kiss the boy in the red shirt one last time.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009


"Brotha can you spare a job?"

I'm highly skilled and trained, and willing to do whatever right about now. I'm motivated and confident but not cocky, nor am I over qualified. I love to learn and I have many different beneficial facets. Here’s my resume; see it's one page only and look how it stands out from all the others.

"Brotha can you spare a job?"

I’ve had many different jobs and have dabbled in many different careers. I’m not too young and I'm not too old, and I am good enough(really I'm better than this and I know it but I can't say that to you). I don’t need to be supervised and have had supervisory experience. All of my previous employers love me (with the exception of one maybe or two). Whatever you need done I can do and I wont leave soon as something better comes along. (um yeah right now that is true) I ask you

"Brotha can you spare a job?"

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

The Lonely at my door

Get away from me!
I won’t invite you in! As if you were a guest. You sicken and disgust me!
Through the door that I press my body against to keep it shut I hear you say

"You made me. With every action that you took you built me, and then built this home not for you but for me. Stand back and let me in."

I refuse you. You're nothing but lies. I admit some I spoke and some I held in my heart but there is only me and he, you can not have. He you will not have

"See you've already claimed me." You said. "You've birth me and named me so house me in your home. It's already mine anyway so just step back I don’t want to push my way in."

I know if you could have done that you would have already done so. It made me think and I stopped pressing against the door. I don’t need to fight you.

"Go away, you have no home here. Long as I have me there can be no you. I love me and all those around me so this is the last time I tell you. I have no use for Lonely; I have no use for you."

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

I agreed

I absolutely, unequivocally refuse to agree. I will not say yes anymore. I can not say no because society does forbid. I walk away hoping my nose does not bleed, again. I invited you and all of your demonic ways in and I allowed you to spread your foul aura. I watched as it chased them good ole boys away. Them boys don't like you and they know that you are there. They look at me and wonder why I don't make you go away.

Your tears have carved a path the emotional equivalent of the Grand Canyon. I absolutely, unequivocally refuse to agree and I will not allow you to make mine yours, but I have to share because society demands. It's not that I'm being an ass or ungrateful; I just know you and your ways. I know that one means ten and ten means one hundred. I will share because I know I’m not an ass, and I know I'm not ungrateful. I refuse to say no because that would be easy and free but saying yes is the hard thing. I refuse to agree but damn it; I can't say no

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

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