The Man

That man over there… he’s got an odd look about him… but it is one that is so very familiar…

He’s got the look of a man resigned to a pain he’s surrendered to. Pain not born of weakness, but of destiny embraced- the acceptance of incapability beyond endurance.

He’s got the look of a man whose sorrows number the grains of sand along the shoreline… a man who feels broken because he understands the true nature of his wholeness.  A man whose paint can only bleeds colors in a world that only receives black and white…

I see this man often.  I long to speak to him, but what words are there to share with one who bares his heart to bear the world?  So I patiently watch…

He’s got the look of a man who is afraid of love, not because of the uncertainty of its future, but because of the certainty of his past. Evolving from a heart breaker, but braking his heart from the dame his heart’s hard is breaking for because he doesn’t want to break her too… but he knows he loves her.

He’s got the look of a man whose only option left is to survive. Who cannot do right rightly, or do wrong well and so all that’s left for the weary warrior is to fight on…

Fight on warrior… fight on… these are the words I would say to him. Fight on… Faith is strength, and hope is sustenance… don’t believe the illusion that you can give up in this- there is too much in you… fight on warrior, fight on…

He has the look of a man who has encountered his personal demons… and dared sentence them to exile. A man who has stood in the mirror peeling back the social illusions of his identity… and been haunted by what he has seen.

He has the look of a man… who has finally learned what it truly means to be one.


By the Sea Shore

She sells sea shells by the sea shore
But if she had me we’d buy the sea shore
She sells the sea’s shells cuz her heart screams torn
But who can she tell- we don’t listen to the sea no mo’

I see this girl every day, lookin the same in every way. My eyes stray behind her waist, but my heart’s drawn unto her face. A face with beautiful, sunset eyes that have never seen the moon. Never, seen the night through to the cleanliness spawned of the dawn. Never- and so she regards herself as a shadow of the night. Mrs. Less-Than-Perfect who dare not raise eyes above surface to lock vision with Mr. Right, she cheats her life by not answering as a child of light…

And it is for this very reason that I cannot get in. I don’t know what it is, but when I see her by the sea I just have a passion for her to live.  Girl please put down these shells, so you don’t block Heaven’s Cupid…

I love you.  More than you will ever know.  More than you can likely handle in this instant like a pot of oatmeal, but you’re the real deal- a big deal in my world.  I see past the sea and the shells you sling- right into your inmost being.  The precious heart of a small girl, who yearns to be a princess… somebody’s Queen, somebody’s pearl.

Well let me introduce myself. You can call me Somebody.  Somebody who’s been watchin. Somebody who’s been prayin. Somebody who’s somehow fallen in love with you and has been patiently waiting.

One day you will see that you don’t have to sell sea shells by the sea shore anymore.

And on that day, there I shall be- on bended knee offering you the keys to a plain looking door that leads to SO much more.

Sweet Mystery



You’re beautiful. Angelic. Inspiring. Living, breathing poetry beyond all of my writing…


Thoughts out, but heart hidden. Conversational, but with your own mission.

Sweet mystery.

That’s exactly what you are to me.  I’ve become a student of those pupils peeking out from behind the veil that separates the two of us.  There’s a truth in us- true beauty no lust.  But I swore off the romance til I could live the book of Romans… waiting on Heavenly timing, but the clock hands seem paralyzed.  Pair of lives.  All good things come in twos.  The best friend I ever did have, but should I say so it is you I might lose…

My sweet mystery.

Well, not mine per se, but I associate all tasteful things with soulful gravity placing them neatly around me.  But listen… this is night fall, and I don’t wanna see your knight fall- I don’t know if it’s my banner, take a gander, cuz just possibly… it’s me that you were looking for.  But night falls bring sun rise, and lucky me, I’m a son of God. This letter is for you- not for everybody.  But close your eyes when you read it, lest you tell somebody…

People listen,

I’m enticed- by her mystery, an addict like doin mathematics on caffeinated energy.  My vision is prismatic- I see multi-dimensional things.  An asthmatic for ordinary tactics, the mundane is toxic gas and it just stops up my breathing.  I’m willing, to believe that you’re not the only mystery.  That deep inside this home is a Holmes for soul deciphering.  To bring hearts out to the light to breathe.  She’s clinging to that word she got, but I’m her whole vocabulary…

Not braggin. Not boastin. Just sayin and hopin. That maybe the picture of God’s promises are painted in slow motion, and His brush of choice is patience just to get you where you’re going… The word can stay the same, while manifestation embraces change.

Penny for your thoughts…

Nevertheless, you’re ever the best, and with this last letter I put it to rest… No need to freeze, or panic, or stress- what has been decreed needs no further digress… Lest go further I press, and share what is left… This bundled package of “hm” perched here on my chest…

But no- you’re not the only enigma around town.

In this vibrant, exciting land of you and me, sweet mysteries abound.

Cover Up Girl

This is to my cover up girl…

To my queen in the long dresses, real smile, and real hair.  She is a maze of amazing qualities calling my name from higher up.  In order to even capture her gaze in her capturing essence I must go higher up.  I cannot simply look up, but stand down, no- I must rise like dark night to dawn, touch my feet to clouds and stand. My. Ground.

My cover up girl isn’t like all the rest. She’s got class like Mrs. Cleaver, but yall just leave it to cleavage and though I blink when I see it, I already know… on the echelon pole of women with angelic glow she’s a rose on top while yall just battle for the bottom post.  My cover up girl is a secret like your deepest woes, but she wields joy in spades because her heart’s in the right place.

I never met a girl I didn’t want to holla at until I met her… Nor yet since. It’s nonsense to think another girl exists with her sense…  Never met a girl who I didn’t take at least ten seconds imagining what it might be like getting up under her skirt- caressing her face until my finger tips danced romantilustfully down her shirt so we could do the tango and end up… tangled.

My cover up girl gives me nothing to work with save the work I put in listening and trying to sound intelligent. Sure sexiness and crude humor loom under the sailing moon of our conversations, but for once… I don’t want it.  I don’t want the cart before the horse, the sweets before the main course, and what’s blowing my mind is, the depth of this friendship is making her more attractive than any girl I’ve touched or fantasized about before!

Good Lord!

It must be pig flyin season…

This is to my cover up girl.

For takin pride in this time between being invisible and seen… It calls out the man in me.

This is to my cover up girl who does not even know I admire her so…

Your wrap of choice is the jeweled gates of Heaven and even if nobody else believes it… I know.

Thank you… my cover up girl.


B is for the beauty you present

E is for those eyes that both attract and convict

A is for the altruism in your life movement

U is for the deep wells of understanding that make you so intuitive

T is for the trust.  I trust you.

I is what I decided to lay down when I met you

F is the fullness of joy that comes from our intimacy

U are the epitome of my heart’s desire

L is permanent… for out LOVE will LAST always.



~The Wordsmith