Love yourself

saeed-mhmdi-130222.jpg

(Photo by Saeed Mhmdi)

Love yourself – I am not talking about narcissism¬†because that does not love. That’s obsession. That’s ego.

But true love. Love yourself. Be compassionate to yourself. Be merciful to yourself.
Be yourself
Don’t ever be someone you’re not
There isn’t anything in the world worth trading yourself in for.
Nothing.


Not a friend, lover, a group.
Not a promise of fortune nor a threat of misfortune.


We do this so much.


We try to be so many different people for so many different people that who we are – gets lost in the shuffle.


Or we screw up and get who we’re supposed to be for this group and are that way with the wrong one.


Do you, boo.


All day. Everyday.


If you give people your space, they’ll move in and set up house where you’re supposed to be.


You are a person. Your thoughts. Your feelings. Your beliefs – matter.


You – matter.


Draw that line. Set up those boundaries. Be true to yourself.


Some people may not like that.

I can guarantee you a lot of people don’t.


But that’s because you’ve stopped letting them live rent-free in your head.


I’ve had people in my life who knew they were wrong for doing me the way they did.
Knew it.


But because I let them, they kept it up.


You know what happened when I cut them off?


They got mad.


It was like, “How dare you stop me from hurting you?”


They ain’t nothin but some gossip folk, now.


I don’t even remember their last names.

You’re worth too much to be something you’re not.

Just a thought.

What Pheonix is this? (Poem)

peter-john-maridable-53936.jpg

(Photo by Peter John Marida)

There are days I am capable of brilliance
the words that I write are dripping with wisdom
and there are days I feel mad as a hatter
and its nigh close to tea time

Why?
is it because I am born under Mars the God of War?
My Irishness? My Scottishness? My hoodrat background?
Is it because I was a white boy born in a black world
who found kindred folk in the beat of a drum?

Is that where my fire comes from?
When I dig in and fight the good fight – is it for truth or just a need to wage my war?
When I leap
astride my husbands hips
and make him pledge allegiance to my body
is that what makes my world go round?

There are days when it rains that my fever begins to climb
when the air is cool around me, I come back to my senses
and look back on declarative statements and wince
“Why did I say that?”
“What did I mean?”
Do I even know?

Why do I burn everything I touch?
Is it my nature?
My sun sign, my moon sign, ascendant, descendant
am I slave to my stars?
Is that why – when I rest – I need a man’s chest
someone strong enough to pick me up
and lay me down when my madness becomes too heavy?

With air, I live
I consume the earth I come across
fire and fire make fire
and when I get close to water – steam is created
before I disappear only to reappear
with the touch of a lightning strike
what Pheonix is this?

And what is yet to come?

I’m not your superman (Poem)

superman

 

I’m not going to be thief
I can’t steal from your truth and make it a lie
I won’t take your right to know away
whether you want to know it or not
whether it makes you comfortable or not

Masks are poisonous superficiality,
duality, duplicitous and I only have one me
full time
one person – uncovered – naked and not ashamed to be so
I’m not your excuse

I have no space in my head for schizophrenic industry panic
it’s hard enough holding one person together
let alone the one who writes, and the one who speaks, and the one who loves, and the one who…
being one person is tiring enough and I can’t lie that much or that often or that convincingly
I’m not going to be your Sybil

Your friendships means a lot
your patronage means a lot
but feeling like a broken mirror isn’t lucky
it’s not
the cracks go down deep into places *I* am yet to discover
keep your bricks, and your rocks, and your foolishness to yourself
I won’t be your target

I am an author of fiction
but alive in my truth
there is no red cape and no phone booth
for me to change into – when you need a different me
to come around and save you from your own unwillingness to be the things you don’t like about me.
I’m not your superman

How can you ask that of me?

The Stars in Our Heavens

 

Many years ago, when ships navigated the waters of the world without modern technology – they looked heavenward, Ship Captains looked to the stars to figure out where they were, where they were going, and how to get back home again.

At the founding of our nation, Thomas Jefferson wrote these words in The Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident. That all men are created equal. That they are endowed, by their creator, with certain inalienable rights. That among those rights were life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Knowingly casting who we wanted to be – as a nation, as a people – high up into the night’s sky.

And while those words did not – in any way – guarantee smooth sailing, for this country was and still is wrought with conflict of race, religion, skin color, sexual orientation – those words became a focal point. A goal. Far-flung up to the highest point in the heavens and even though potentially unreachable – nevertheless was a place our country could cast it’s gaze when it felt like it was shifting too far in any given direction. Or if it was feeling lost, off course.

It’s in THOSE WORDS we find our truth once declared before God and the foundations of this earth, as well as a challenge to the greatest empire the world had ever seen as well as their king.

Our veritas, our truth.

The truth is not in the eye of the beholder, that’s a fool’s statement, words of a moral relativist. The truth never moves. It is constant. A truth is eternal. It may get covered up. Clouds may pass over – blinding us from the light of truth – but it cannot remove that star, that truth, from being. It is still there shining down regardless of whatever storm blows up obstructing its light.

Now, there may be those who wish to cloud up our skies to keep us from seeing it. There are pedants who strike at the hand that wrote those words demanding his name be eradicated from history’s texts. But in doing so they risk their own eradication as much as those that cloud up the skies do. Their purist arguments are often reductive.

Everything today feels wrong because it is. This throwing out of illegal immigrants without rational. This sudden movement shift to the right. This purist ‘America first’ mentality which harkens back to darker days of the early 20th century. This is all obfuscation. Donald Trump and his ilk, as well as his supporters, are nothing more than a storm that’s blown up.

As Americans, we need to look up and cast our gaze back upon our truth. Then and only then, will we begin to navigate these choppy and suddenly unsafe waters we sail today. We are off course. We are not living up to who WE said we were. And we do so, to our own peril. Regardless of where you stand politically. We have denied ourselves of OUR Truth. No immigrant, nor a terrorist, nor foreign power can remove that truth from us. That’s something only we can do. Something we’re doing to ourselves, right now.

And if we’re not careful, we’ll run her aground. Look up, America. Get your bearings. Get your sea legs back. Get YOUR TRUTH, BACK!

Semper Avanti.