Sunday, June 28, 2009

you asked

You asked me,

 

“Why are you attracted to me?”

 

I’ll tell you. When I met you and spoke your soul answered back.

 

When I stared into your eyes light not of this earth shone back. When I touched your hand a warmth not known to me emanated. When I come near you your child like innocence mixed with wisdom bestowed by time and error creates a feeling of relief and calm, as if your soul had thousands of arms and they all reach out to comfort me. When you smiled at me for the first time it was as if a butterfly had taken flight from a rose with the dawn’s light as motivation; to this day it remains the same.

 

You asked me,

 

“Why do you care?”

 

It’s simple, because you are you. These few words still do not compare to the feelings they are meant to describe.

I ask you,

 

“Why do you?”

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

what now

When I was younger I believed in God, Love, and Magic.

When I grew older they told me not to believe in magic anymore, it was childish and silly. They finally said that it was witchcraft and against God.

 

When I was a child I believed that God never makes mistakes, that God loves everything great and small and in between. I use to sing songs about how Jesus loves the little children. When I became a “man” I was told that the wages of sin was death. If you live a godly life and where a good (Baptist, Pentecostal, Episcopal, Methodist, Seventh day Adventist, Mormon, Catholic, Lutheran, even Non-Denominational, whatever) and only a (Baptist, Pentecostal, Episcopal, Methodist, Seventh day Adventist, Mormon, Catholic, Lutheran, even Non-Denominational, whatever) then the kingdom heaven would be yours. I was told that sinners would all burn in hell and that to lay with a mans as one would a woman then it was an abomination.

 

Imagine my surprise to know that as a child my God loved me no matter what but as a “man” I disgust the creator of all things great and small and in between. I disgust the knower and founder of all knowledge. I disgust the omnipotent one because of something that I had no part in and no control over. As a man, somehow, it does not make since to me. It sounds more like something another man would think of instead of the God I use to know.

 

When I was a little child I believed that love (whatever that was) made the world go round and that what your heart was for. When I grew older I realized I’ve never known that type of love and have known it all too well. I’ve seen the very thing pass me and abide with me in my home as if majesty became mine. Then when the majesty became real it was gone like it was never there.

 

So what now?

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

You old spirit

Why do I allow you to darken my doorstep; you, you old spirit.

 

I felt you around the corner and I saw you walk up the block, and I still let you in. I knew that letting you in you would only tear my house asunder leaving me to pick up the pieces. I’d make everything all nice and pretty only for you to destroy it again.

 

Why do I allow you to speak to me; you, you old spirit.

 

Without saying a word you lied to me. When you did speak you sanctified your bible of deception with even more lies. All of it, every syllable of every word of every sentence you’ve spoken before. All of it, time and time again your lies flowed from that abyss to the point where I could manuscript them without correction, yet I still gave you my ear. I still hang on to every lie as if not to drown knowing fully; without a shadow of question that not only do the lies let me drown but they are the cause. I still swim tirelessly with my ears heavy.

 

Why do I allow you to look at me; you, you old spirit.

 

Your icy gaze finds its way into my heart, my soul, my entire being. I feel your gawk mostly from your sisters’ younger disciples that can not tell the difference between the evil twins. There are times when it comes from the minds that your father whose only name we can pronounce as “time” has twisted into something sick and demented; something found in the bile of maggots and in the fluids of diseased rotting flesh. Then there are times when your gaze comes from those that know the difference between the two yet your sister has trained them well in her ways. They seem and maybe think they are of pure intentions, as pure and as precious as a rose in a garden of weeds. You have already doomed them as you have me. I know I should not turn to look upon you but I do, and it is still you. I see all of the things that you hold in your eyes even though I know they are all of the same things that were there before. The same things that were there when our eyes were first introduced.

 

Why do I allow you, you old spirit.

 

Why do I allow you to come near me? Why do I allow you to speak to me? Why do I allow you to look upon me? Why allow you, you old spirit?

 

I guess because you are the only one that has remained true. You have always been concrete in your lies, hurt, and pain. You have always been there when I did not need you and when I was at points where I would not open the door, even for you. When I would not listen to your lies; when I would not look upon your beautifully twisted face and stare deeply into those hollows you have as substitute for eyes, looking for a soul losing my own in the course. You took the extra time and effort to wait at the door so when I did let you in on the fiction that you would not wreck and ravage my house like you did the last time. When I would not listen to your deception you sung so wonderfully, you belted so beautifully anyone would have swore that you cold talk an angle down from heaven. No one would ever guess the angel would suffer a faith worse than Hitler in hell.

 

When I would not look you took a form so pleasing, so beautiful not even the first day would dare to compare. I knew beneath it all you were uglier than all foulness, all wrong.

 

I guess you, you old spirit, you being my only true enemy you have treated me better than any friend. You being the only thing that I ever truly desired I received only your truest detest.

 

You, you old spirit.

 

You love me enough to hate me. I allow you because I’d rather you hate me than nothing at all because that’s what we’re supposed to. I can find happiness in the pat on the back. That is before you stab me.

 

Why do I love you, you old spirit of love when you never have loved me?

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Thank you lord

Thank you.

 

Thank you Lord for breathing life into me for another day. Thank you lord for letting my eyes and letting them see all of the wondrous creations that you have made. Thank you lord for giving me a sound mind that is able to chose the right path and learn from the mistakes along the way.

 

Thank you Lord for giving me ears that hear laughter and ears that hear cries. Thank you Lord for my mouth that lets me praise your name, speak my mind, make a joyful noise (and some would call it that) speak out against wrong and voice how wrong I maybe.

 

Lord thank you for giving me a heart that pumps the blood through my veins and the emotions through my soul.

 

Thank you Lord for my legs that move me from here to there with the ability to walk or run and the feet they balance on even when they are sore and ache. Thank you so much lord for my hand and fingers that you have blessed with ability and with some call talent (others call novelty)Thank you Lord for my home that is mine and keeps me safe from the cold winter rain and shaded from the hot summer sun.

 

Thank you Lord for my life and not making me anyone else but me. Thank you for not giving me anyone else’s experiences but mine, not letting any others pain or pleasure or pain over my doorstep. Thank you for no one else’s riches, no one else’s misery.

 

Thank you Lord for you. I believe in you and I do not pressure other to because that is not what you asked me to do. I thank you Lord for you because for without you there would be nothing, I would be nothing. Without you lord there would be no sun, no moon, no pleasure, and no man that bring pain.

 

If I forget to say this on a daily basis then know that it is carved in stone signed and sealed with blood and implanted in my heart.

 

Thank you Lord.

 

©Christopher F. Brown2009

The lie

What is it that you want from me?

 

Your eyes ask me a question yet they tell me lies. Is it that you are high or drunk and do not realize what it is that you are doing, or is it that you are testing your powers of seduction and I am the sacrifice?

 

Whatever the case maybe you lie to me: your eyes, your gaze, even your body tells me a story of deceit, and only one thing dances on your mind.

 

Unfortunately even that is a lie.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

i don’t know you anymore

I don’t know you anymore.

 

What demon posses your heart? What has made one that was once trusted into someone whose eyes I can’t even gaze upon?

 

I don’t know you anymore.

 

“All things change including people.”

 

This I know, change is what makes us who we are. Change of the mind, and of the body is inevitable. Change is what has made us too successful masters of this earth it is who we are but the spirit stays the same.

 

Your spirit has been under attack for too long. We try to help but you turn us away.

 

The “You” that burned with the fury of the sun has been reduced to the flickering flame that stands before me. This person you are now is alien to me. You say things that you would never say, you do things you would never do, yet I take time and wonder what has made you this way. What has created this person whom I do not know, whom wears you as a shell?

 

I don’t know you anymore.

 

You say it is me that has changed and I agree. I have changed to grow; the mind must grow to hold more knowledge. The body must change to go with the change of the earth. You have become stagnate. You ferment, never expanding, if you do it is only because you absolutely must, or worse to stay the same.

 

I don’t even recognize your face. I don’t even recognize your voice. I only recognize your name. Your body posses the same features and your address is the same but

 

I don’t know you anymore.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

sunshine

God woke me up this morning with the sun shining.

 

When I got to work it was the same ole

 

“Run, run, run, check all the e-mails, I have a thousand and five things to do and not enough time in the day to do them.”

 

I went to my desk and looked out the window and the sun was shining.

 

When it was time to clock out and was on my way home I for some reason always take notice; seeing all the hustle and bustle, people complaining and yelling on their cell phones, tapping and clicking away at their I phones, Blackberries or Laptops and mothers yelling at their children.

 

I looked out the window, up at the sky, and the sun was still shining.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Thursday, June 25, 2009

you

A stolen chance was taken and conversation was found. You, whom graced my presence with such a beauty and décor.

 

You, whose smile pierced my chest and shone light into my soul.

 

You, whose lips beckon,

 

“Kiss me.”

 

You, whom any man or woman for that matter would give an eye to have by their side has chosen me.

 

My insecurities scream there usual song and dance their same jig, but I quiet them.

 

It does not mater any more what I’m thinking or feeling you just said something; a little bit of nothing really, but whatever it was it made me laugh.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

I'm curious

What is it that you hide from me?

 

True, I barged into your world without permission, yet you knew I was there. I saw what you saw, felt what you felt, heard what you heard. Then you shoved me out like a new born from the womb.

 

What is it that you don’t what to show?

 

What is it that I can not touch?

 

Is it you true desire or is it your most hurtful pain? I ask these questions not knowing if I really want to know the answers.

 

Maybe that is why?

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Poison

You are to the point of predictable. I see your true intentions in all the selfishness.

You manipulate with a chuckling smile, but never letting any too close.

They might find out that you only care about satisfying the need, feeding the hunger.

I often wonder if you even think about you.

You thought I was like you in passing, and maybe I am. I see invisible hands stretching out with my third eye. This lady said I was born with it open and that does explain a lot.

Misery is head over heels for company so you make rounds picking a new on each chance you get. Thinking, hoping, and praying that they are like you; thinking, hoping, and praying that another of similar like can justify and excuse you.

In the end you are your own shadow. You think you are less than a full and whole person so you attach and fit yourself onto and with others. You rid yourself of them as they turn the mirror on you.

You figure because you can function with a smile that there is no problem. What will happen when it cracks and someone, anyone, sees past you.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

What do you know

What do you know about love?

What do you think you have come to comprehend?

Do you know that it is more? More than a word, more than a feeling, more than what they sing songs about, more than what they write plays and film movies about.

You think you know, now that you have found someone and have spent a while with them that you can define every letter. You think because you have watched the sun kiss their brow and gently greet them to the new day that the two of you together are the full embodiment of the emotion?

Back rubs with hot oils, bubble baths and chocolate (or strawberry) syrup. Them just showing up on a random day at work in the middle of the day with roses; just for no reason at all.

Let me ask you.

How does it feel when you have come home to see that all their cloths are gone? What letter of the word expresses the look on your face at the very moment your heart processes that your suitcase is full?

What does it mean when you open your mouth to try and explain to your friends why you haven’t called in so long and your voice flees you; tears well up in your eyes and you hang up the phone. You tell yourself you will call them back but you don’t. You tell yourself you will go by but you never do.

What do you know about love?

What do you think you have come to comprehend about that word?

Let me ask you.

When your special day has become routine, the favorite dinner is now always left cold and untouched what is your plan?

What part of love explains why they all look like them when you look out the corner of your eye?

Have you comprehend why you still remember which side of the pillow their drool pools? Why you haven’t thrown away their favorite shirt and pants even though you have bleached, cut, and shredded them?

You and they sit on cloud nine not soiling thine feet with the filth of the earth. Love has lifted the two of you to peaks of mental and physical ecstasy that you think no other has known; no two other could grasp.

What do you know about love?

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Let it be

Agree to disagree. My right is your wrong. The purple sea and the brown sky does not exist in your universe but why?

Why are you trying to destroy mine?

You tell others of my abominable world and spread decadent lies that I could only wish.

I’ve seen your world and even though it filled my heart with sorrow, my mouth with disgust I let it be. It is yours not mine. I have no right, I have no say, but why?

Why have you said so many things true and untrue about me, about others like me? Why have you sought to destroy me and others like me when we have done you no harm?

In my world we agree to disagree. We let be as long as there is no harm done.

I want to call you friend but I think that this is the only thing we shall agree to disagree.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Revolutionary warning or the day before

Down with the corporate pirates whom steal the common man’s hard earned pay. (And the pay from each other)

 

Down with the governments that support them. They that line their pockets with kickbacks while increasing the tax on the people that can barely pay what is.

 

Down with the people that support them and whom are blinded by their own ignorance. (Or maybe their intelligence) that they can not (or will not) see that what we speak is right and true.

 

We the people (really I and some others that represent the people) have spoken. With us is the only one right way of thinking; the one and only right way of being.

 

Down with those that stand in the way of the truth. (as we see and say it to be)

 

Down with those that stand in the way of freedom. (As we have defined)

 

It is time to lift up all things right. (As we have determined)

 

Down with evil, down with corruption, down with the old. (And maybe down with you.)

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Creation of the black man

 

The Great Spirit called out

 

“We shall make man. Take the wool of the lamb and make his hair. Let it grow like the roots of the trees.

 

Take the edges of the swords that he shall make, mingle it with fire and lighting and create his eyes.

 

Carve from the rock of the earth his flesh; his skin shall be draped in the night sky. Virgin mink shall be the touch of one hand and diamond shall be the strength of the other.

 

His heart’s passion shall burn like the mighty sun. The scope of his intellect shall marvel his generations. The vastness of all the heavens and all the seas shall be the depth of his soul and every cell of it shall be etched with perseverance, faith, determination, and achievement.

 

Make his feet swift and his tongue swifter.

 

His loins shall be of ledged.

 

His dreams shall rise to my feet and they shall be as vivid as the Aura Borealis and his soul will naturally be tuned with the universe’s rhythm.

 

Make this man the father of many men yet to come.

 

His spirit shall be indomitable, unbreakable, and enduring. Whatever trial or tribulation that comes his way he shall be able to conquer.”

 

The Great Spirit called out

 

“We shall make a man.

 

We shall make a Black Man.”

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Confusion

 

Looking at the world through tears the lines tend to blur. His hand touches my shoulder when my mind calls my heart stupid.

 

She whispers in my ear when my heart calls my brain a liar. He kissed me when you said that what was is now over yet it became the norm.

 

This woman caressed my head when the things you said did not match the facts but the facts could not be proven.

This man put his hand on my thigh while you did what you said you had no desire to.

 

Her words made love to my mind when your actions were to be “friendly” and not “lovingly”.

 

His manhood uploaded inside of me when you told me that your fidelity once went astray. She was born out of the womb of our secrets.

 

He grows more and more when things that were not, are; when mystery is invited to stay and trust in dragged out kicking and screaming.

 

She lies with me at night when (my ex’s name) is gone and I’m alone. When my heart has invoked faith and has silenced my brain from its constant chattering.

 

When I’m alone and I am consumed in his embrace he says in the after glow insurmountable passion

 

“Why are you alone?”

 

I say

 

“Looking at the world through tears, the lines tend to blur.”

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

What is this ?

 

What is this that when I awake your taste is still on my lips?

 

What is this that when I see random people on the street, on television, where ever, they seem; if only for a moment, to have your face. The memories of time spent with you begin to replay in my mind at random times for no reason at all.

 

What is this that I can not sleep if your soul is not near mine; the heat of your flesh not touching mine?

 

What is this that when I hear songs I’ve heard thousands of times before some how they sound new. The high notes a bit higher and I swear the chorus is new.

 

What is this that when we talk time seems to speed up and go way too fast and at the same time it slows down, almost standing still?

 

What is this thing that I can not explain, this new feeling, these new places and emotions?

 

Could this be what they call love?

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Simple

 

You wanted to know me. I told you not to blink.

 

You wanted to know my deepest fears. I said hold me tighter.

 

You wanted to know what brings me joy and happiness. I offered you my last piece of gum.

 

You asked me what you could do to make me even happier that what I already was. I made you take your shoes off.

 

You asked me what I want. I asked you what I could do for you.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

My question

My question, to whomever it may concern, am I to look for love or let love find me?

 

Am I to look for that special someone or let someone special find me?

 

My question, to whomever it may concern.

 

The search for the love of my life always leads me to a dark room with damp pillows and the banshee’s wails of silence. So, I love life instead and I escape the room.

 

My question, to whomever it may concern.

 

Why do I want for a type of something that I have never really known (even then it was only single sided)? Why has my one true goal been one that I can not work to, or make happen by my own will, my own power?

 

My question, to whomever it may concern.

 

I want someone to love when it seems to me that no one is trying, or even wanting to love me.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Cutie

 

If I had you I’d be on the phone with you till I arrived at your doorstep.

 

If I had you we’d make love till our sweat covered bodies could no longer function.

 

If I had you I’d take you to places that you’ve probably been and seen before, but the difference would be me.

 

If I had you I’d try to increase the love in your heart 10 fold. I’d stretch your smile and fill your stomach with aching laughter.

 

If I had you the slightest touch; the simplest look from you would calm my mind and ease my soul.

 

All this if I had you, the cutie, but first I have to get you to notice me.

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

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