Glimmer

A contorted expression of twisted responsibility. I hate it. I’m trapped in a lake of loneliness. Locked into a promise that only guarantees lies to me.

Lies of belonging, when really my only belongings will forever be the emotional myriad of internal longings… I crave access to normality. To pull it over my crazed identity like a cloak and pose like one of these folks who don’t bear the hero’s worry of the soul.

But I could be standing on a stage and still my presence would be staged. Tapping on hollow mics, not for praise, but merely recognition… acknowledgement.

Hello, can you see me, is this thing on? I’m looking for the place the wanderers call home… Hello, can you see me, is thing on? Right when I’m in need I notice everybody I need is gone…

Invisibility is profitable only for the heartless.

I don’t know how to not need… how to not be what I am…

All I know is how to be alone. I’ve gotten it down to an art form. A science. Heck I’m even writing a poem about it-

Oh how the lies make fools of us all…

Closing Chapters

I’ve been flippin the pages of this novel for so long I forgot that there was a conclusion…

But as the final chpater comes to a head- I wonder if I’ll be able to go through with it.

Do I have the gusto to reach the end?

To push forward into the scripted reality and out of theoretical pretend?

I’m not so sure.

I have bragged about it many a time

Threatening to skip to the back cover ahead of time

But my hands were stayed until the proper time…

Now.

And as it approaches- a mere two days away- I find myself flirting with the need to hesitate…

Resolution can be a dangerous game, and now that it’s in my face, I’m not as adamant that I want to play…

But I do.

I’m just not sure how it will turn out.

Not sure if the right words will leave my mouth.

Not sure if my energy will be spent body slamming a body guard to the ground…

I’m just not sure.

But we are in the final words of the final sentences of the final paragraphs of the final pages of the final chapter…

And one thing is certain-

Because my intent is to persevere-

The chapter must end.

**

~The Wordsmith

Letter To Nicki Minaj

Dear Nicki Minaj,

I had a moment as I watched MTV portray your own…

For the longest time my soul was an a-hole as I stuck my nose down at you… This newest hip-hop diva to break into the scene, rocking the stages with rocker hair every shade of every hue…

I felt nothing but disdain.

Though Christian I proclaimed to be- and indeed I am- I dropped the love from my hand, and scooped up two tons of sand, to rub the image I had of you raw.

My vision flickered between what my pride and the world saw, I was a road hog, knowing the world was wrong, but filling my lanes of thought with slop… about you.

But today something changed.

Seeing your face, and hearing your story, crippled me suddenly and I needed a cane… and Jesus was right there for me.

Trinidad… crack dad… big family… poverty… struggling- always struggling…

And the love for your mother.

A story tugging on my heart strings, not simply for sake of dramatic melodies, but because I could see the Trinity in it…

God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The tears that trickled down despite your best efforts to retain, reached deep into my tear ducts and caused my to do the same, and as I watched you hold hands and pray, fighting against violence, calling on the strength of day, seeing the words leave your lips, touch Heaven, and return with God’s kiss… I realized something.

You and I – we are the same.

And as you sealed your petition with the name- Jesus Christ who was raised- Eden’s flowers burts forth from the dirt of my heart and God fixed my gaze.

So firstly I apologize- both for conjuring  and believing the lies.

And secondly I commit my time to pray… for you, yours, and mine.

And yes to your surprise, I’m not like other guys, assessing your butt size, tryna get inside…

I looked at you and saw my God, and amidst all the applause, I saw your heart for lost, and realized- we’re connected by the Cross.

This letter is to let you know that you are not alone for the nights you feel iso…

This letter is to let you know that every guy isn’t lusting for your body when you feel you have nobody…

This letter is to let you know that you have support- every missionary needs it…

I hope that this letter reaches your eyes, and touches your heart…

I pray that the Holy Spirit would continue to hold you tight, and work in and with you to make you whole…

I pray for healing, and reconciliation, and for your joy and faith to grow…

I’m not looking for a hookup, but rather for THE hookup- for you to hook up to the Lord who loves you and cling to Him when life tells you He doesn’t… He’s your sustaining healing force- that’s why we call Him life support. :o)

Feel free to reach out should you ever need a true friend…

In this day and age we bear the benefit of electronic correspondence…

Any one of my emails goes straight to my phone, and as I end this letter, I pray that the Lord gives you a taste of TRUE wine for the soul…

Love,

~The Wordsmith

thelioneffect.weebly.com (email on the site)

Bubbles

Look I’m just tryna be your friend…

I know that you’ve grown to distrust men, and they leave you disgusted, cuz they rusted your lovin, and burned it in the oven, but – I’m not tryna get nothin.  I mean – sure I find you attractive, and I thoroughly enjoy your laughter, and perhaps through this friendship we’ll find love after – or perhaps not – but that’s not my reason for sticking around.  I enjoy our friendship sound.  A beautiful echo from here to the clouds.  Something about you is different – we vibe well.  I don’t mind sharing secrets – but this can only work if you share yours as well.  But you hide inside your bubble…

I’m just tryna be your friend.

And I mean, I want to share, and build and grow, but your holding back puts a cap on the freedom to know.  I can only give so much, before I am addressed by prudence and wisdom telling me to hold up, and wait for your trust to show up.  … I wish – I wish I came with a resume.  So you could see what I’m about, where I’ve been, where I’ve sinned, where I’ve been redeemed, and that every word I’ve said, I meant.  I see you behind that bubble friend.  And I have a love for you, that moves me to be patient.  It’s the love of the bond closer than brothers, not of romantic relationships… That may come, it may not, but it’s possibility is not a reason to insert distance…

I’m just tryna be your friend.

So I – poke here and I poke there.  I ask questions and at the same time try not to pry.  I hold back my usual methods so that you do not get scared… You don’t have to pop the bubble – just let me inside.  Life is but a vapor – we don’t have years to walk this process out.  It’d be different if we were strangers, or opposites, but we’re not – we’re cut from the same cloth.  Ticks of the same tock.  Bearers of the same Cross.  … I look in your eyes, and see your past in your soul.  Fragments of pain, wisps of ache, the remnants of passions that once lived and now exist as ghosts… In your jokes I hear nuggets of your testimony.  When you cut yourself off so you don’t reveal stuff, I hear echoes of unspoken truth, and see beyond the fluff.   … But what can I do?  What can I say?  Your bubble… your bubble…

I’m just tryna be your friend.

Why you?  Why do I care?  Answer me this – what would you do if in the midst of your flight you saw your kind in the air?  Would you stick to your flock, or go and make the instinctive connection?  Would you stay in your ring of comfort, or remove it and become visible?  Would you risk being a duo, or remain a solo indivisible…?

I take leaps.  I free fall.  I have faith for wings.  I believe that my true friends sit on the other end of the seesaw… So as long as it takes – I guess here I will wait.  Not as your prospective mate, or over eager date – but as a vault in a bank… I won’t chase so you can see my wells – how far they go – and know that I’m safe… I see you friend.  I am not your opposition.  Blow this bubble away… And trust the sincerity of my heart when I say –

I’m just tryna be your friend.

~The Wordsmith

4 Drink Minimum

You’re so intertwined in your past that you can’t unwrap your present…
Friendship is what I’ve got – not much salad, but good dressing…
But your suspicious nature is like a bad dance – yeah you keep rejecting…
So I’ll move on, keep your shoes on, what I’m offering can’t be got with a coupon…

~The Wordsmith