Our bodies wrote this poem.
There’s more space between you and the edge of the bed than there is between our two skins.
Each time I lose my train of thought you finish the sentiment. Like a conductor guiding the weight of my freight back into its peaceful tracks.
I want to argue like my grandparents argued. Did we buy this shirt in Montreal or New York? Did you eat my last dinner roll? I washed the dishes last night but I’ll do it again today to save your beautiful hands the stress.
The remedies that love gives from growing older together.
I knew your baby faced late teens like I know the perfection of your mid-twenties.
The further I am from you the closer I am to empty.
It’s like my palms were made to caress the folds of your grandeur.
The entirety of God’s majesty exists in your creation.
I’m unafraid of this union unless our together looks like Together.
What would a day be without your sunrise ?
If the world ended tonight at least I knew heaven within my lifetime.
Love?
Body to body.
Make me forget my unimportance.
Fill my pores with the grace only you bring.
Still my core with the peace that you pour in.
I wanna glow with that shea butter sheen.
Give me your love so I can hoard it.
Find attraction in my human.
My body and flesh love you with only a percentage of what my heart and soul do.
I want to mold a better future* while I know you.
Fall in love with me and all the things we grow through.
If I could have one wish, it would be for just one moment where you see yourself through my eyes.
You’d never feel self doubt again knowing the quality of design I see.
And truthfully I only ask that in love the Lord keeps guiding me.
I’m nothing yet I hope to be your everything
The F Word
Lend me your heart.
Or do I already occupy most of the space there?
You’re the center of my displaced fears.
It’s Jah, I, then you,
even though you hold the heaviest weight here.
Those troubled Sargasso Seas had started to taste weird.
My fate’s clear.
Jah wash over I, these words are my spiritual Faith’s care.
Fissures and craters are forming within which means my healing is falling behind eerily.
I hold better days near to me.
I gotta find peace of mind.
Even though these shattered pieces of mine are getting harder to find.
Tell me how to define something that’s been missing my whole life.
I’m a product of closed fist striking both the seed and the wife.
I know haunting alcoholic figures.
I thought the only way through was to punch first then try to heal all the demons.
I’m as much my own man as I am a collection of all the sins of the Simmons name that I’m bringing.
I’m Raleigh and Get it Green, but also a shortened temper inspired by this environment that I’m breathing.
I use to toss my pain to the side to use as a weapon when I need it.
But that always left my spirit split.
I remember my brother’s grief of growing up first, and all the nights full of screaming.
That is the curse I’m defeating.
Forgiving and releasing.
I use to put a muzzle on and shut it up because they said a man needn’t speak it.
I was full on emotions alone for all the nights I had to eat ‘em.
so David tell me how such a shattered man could take active steps towards his healing?
And find his life’s meaning?
idk just yet either.
These words are for a future* full of freedoms.
For I&I.
If?
I’m season one A-train. Running at full sprint away from everything I should be.
I’m too fragile to be a man. I grew up in a space that taught me men shouldn’t show emotion. Closed fists and razor sharp tongues were the way problems were solved. Bricks flew through windows. I knew beatings before I knew tears. But ironically it has made me all too sensitive as a young adult. How can I always be one bad remark away from breaking down, but afraid to show emotion. I use to carry nonchalantness as frequent as I carried my school backpack. Now my tears are ‘on-go’ from any setback or step backwards.
As a kid I defined manhood as a closeness to God. All the male role models I had were “men of God”. My grandfather and Bro. Vaughn and Brent. But the older I get the more I see that those so called Men of God only claimed that title to save themselves from troubled pasts. Their closeness to God was sometimes a facade. My closeness to God feels like a facade. How could it not be? I call out and hear no answer. I don’t want to be the kid that only calls on their Heavenly Father when they need something. But yet it seems like I’m stuck in a state of need, so under what other premise can I pray? I try to give thanks in all moments. I try to carry a Godly borrowed strength with me. Because I’m too far from God and too fragile to be a man.
If a man fails to live up to his boyhood definition of manliness does that make him not a man?
For her / today
Please
Please have mercy on me.
You have my tender heart in your pretty hands.
Don't YOU DARE squeeze it dry.
I'm turning my back to the insidious side.
Please take mercy on me.
Place your love where I hurt most.
I’ve felt alone for too long now.
When I went wrong where did all the love go?
The show goes on and you still hold the remote.
Every that glitters from you is truly gold.
The world’s most beautiful soul.
Please have mercy in your heart.
I know loving me is hard on most days.
I’m on a path of constant growth.
Let’s rush into the now so we can take the rest of our lives so slow.
6 am no sleep journaling
Seasons
Honor the season that you’re in. Seasons don’t change overnight. It takes months. So if the season is healing…. it’s okay to be fine one day and a wreck the next.
Look at how spring can be warm at day and cold at night. Cold and gloomy one day.. sunny the next. Summer can bring hurricanes just as it can bring a beautiful sunset… you get the picture.
If the season means sitting still and getting back in touch with yourself. Then start to honor all the small things that make you who you are. practice happiness with intention. Commit to the things that add to your life.
If the season is turbulence. Honor yourself. Understand what it is that is making things chaotic for you. experience the storm as it occurs and then start to assess the damages. Figure out how to patch yourself back together. Get help. Talk to people. Don’t lose yourself to the storm. That way you can enjoy a calmer season when it comes. Seasons are temporary.
Fall back in love. Break curses. Talk about how you feel. Stay up with someone you love. Laugh. Chase passions. Fail. Succeed. Let the seasons bring you newness like the falling of leaves. Or the fresh spring bloom.
2024… each day is a chance to get this life thing right.
Price-tag/Spring
The
lilac colored flowers start to bloom atop the moss covered branches. It’s time to replant ourselves and take a bet on the spring romances. I don’t pick the flowers to smell them. Just like I no longer pick the scabs of my wounds that are healing. The change of seasons matched the change in my spirit that has become appealing.
I don’t want to have to distract myself to feel okay. I want to be able to sit with myself and know my place. It’s time to do spring cleaning. Calling in the Warrens to stand toe to toe with my demons. I know God put this mountain in my way for a reason. And I’m almost at the peak. The battle always gets hardest when you know your close to your goal. When everything you want is within reach. You might even sabotage yourself and make the journey even more steep.
But not me anymore. There’s beauty in the treacherous battle uphill. Theres appeal in overcoming the impossible. I know on the other side of my summit is there sweetest rewards I could hold. Like being a healed man that can properly hold her mending heart. And finishing all the dreams that i forgot I even started. And in the meantime i pray blessings over my springtime. I want to make the most of it. No more pricetags on my soul because there’s no condition to hold a piece of it.
She’s the biggest piece of my springtime peace.
Imy
I miss black bay on days like this.
I miss the cleansing properties its water held.
My soul was saved the day God sent guardian angels to me.
A reminder to cater to myself.
Nights like these i feel the undercurrent of my depressions. Tugging me from below the calm waters i carry on my exterior. Threatening to make a mess of my flesh. Whispering that i should give up in myself and let the negativity swallow me whole. Drown me. Fill my lungs with rageful breaths. Gasping for a version of me that becomes more fleeting with each moment.
The light dimming as i’m entering my life’s Bathypelagic zone. My fingers dancing across the keyboard to play tether to my drifting mind .
The rain falls as i walk home from work. Maybe this is all apart of one big segment of spiritual cleansing that i needed.
A reminder to call on God. To remember that harboring all these terrible tendencies and harmful habits could no longer serve me.
Not if I’m to withstand these rough seas I’m facing.
These turbulent waters shredded the dinghy that houses my psyche to pieces. And I’ve had to put in the long arduous hours building myself my own Bermuda sloop.
Nights like this feel like the end of me . The waves of emotions knock me. Capsize me. Turn my world upside down like i was Jack Sparrow at the World’s End.
I have to be my own hope. The sad truth is my damage is my responsibility to overcome. No one’s going to show up to throw me a life raft. Nobody is going to guard my life from the call of these hurricanes and monsoons. Not one person in this world will be the lighthouse that gives me hope and guides me towards those calmer seas.
I’m alone
At least my prayers attach themselves to the night sky. And God answers by painting them as the constellations that direct me across this never ending night.
Guide yourself David.
When you find the eye of the storm and calmer waters sit still and listen.
The sound of water playing tug-of-war with the shore always did serve as a remedy. The back end of the storm can sometimes do more damage than the beginning. The hull of my sloop is still incomplete. The healing comes much slower than the damage occurs. And i can’t sit and wait until i think its all better… I have to craft better.
I need to heal despite the the winds still battering at my emptied frame.
I need to tap into my inner Cutty Flam and build a ship that will withstand all. I need to treat myself with the same care and forgiveness i give to the person i love.
Before black bay there was Tilicho lake. And that’s what i told a friend was my favorite body of water.
Purity defined. MKB.
I’ve never seen anything more pristine. And that’s what i want my waters to look like moving forward in life.
And my peace will guide her to outer-space.
My work in her garden will send her words to the NY times.
I Will be the love that defines her soul’s code.
My healing will heal her and put her in that soft girl era.
I write to release📬. And i release to be the best servant to her and to God.
Play sorry Not sorry by Tyler…
Dream Big 