I Love Mama!!!

                                     I Love Mama!!!

  A day of sorrow meets one where comfort is as invisible as God. A loved one’s surprise should be lovelier than spirits. What I did is unfathomed. I have yet to suggest my illness. Mama is my cradle; I sleep in her. I would have loved to sleep in the air instead, where it is impossible for me to exist or be seen.

            “Hello Dr …I had to see you as soon as possible,” Mama said catching her breath as if in a chase from a whirlwind. Her heart must have been.

“How are you Kate? Is everything okay?” Dr. Susan asked

“... It’s Eric, I felt it again on my knee when I hugged him for school.”

“Yea I know …it’s a difficult issue.” Dr. Susan replied as she prompted mama to sit down. I could over hear and see them through the mirrored door. Mama had told me to wait at the stairs. I was a stubborn child.

The morning before my 10^th birthday, Mama and I had gone to this strange airy office, to a doctor that just talks the whole time and makes mama cry.  She had asked me a couple of questions.   She asked me about my friends at school.  If I liked basketball…I answered.  I thought doctors only gave shots; I never knew they asked so many stupid questions. 

The next day, I woke up to the sweetest dream in the world.  Mama was in it.  She was beautiful and I felt all the love in the world.  But today after mama shouted at me for dirtying my shirt, I don’t know if I’ll have the same dream tonight.

“Good morning honey, did u sleep well?” Mama called.

“Good morning mama…hmm…I want a hug” I slowly replied as I looked down at her breast as if I was ready to be breastfed.  I was shorter than mama.  Mama took me to school that morning.  She kissed me goodbye.  Man, I love mama.  Her kisses are sweeter to me than life; literally. 

At school I thought about the questions Dr. Susan had asked me. I wondered if I really cared or loved anything. I realized all I loved was my precious mama.

Mama picked me up from school. Right on time, like she always did. Later in the evening, I heard mama talking on the phone to someone. I had just woken up from a sweet and tender nap. I walked drowsily towards her to ask for a drink. “Ok I’ll call you back…” she said as she saw me walk towards her. I was a little troubled by her agitation that day; it was unlike her.

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Ten years later, I had grown into a man; my life was disturbing but was also improving. You see, as a boy I was very fond of my mother.  I loved her hair, I loved her smile, and I loved her legs. I just loved my sweet pear and peaches mama. I would have married mama if I could.  But of course that would be outrageous and crazy; plus oh so gross.

I was still living with mama at age twenty. I loved her too much to let her live alone. I believe I was a fairly handsome man. Mama told me all the time what a charm I was. I agreed. I became fond of women, who chased me regardless. I had a familiar faced girlfriend who I loved. She was sweet with a gorgeous pear shape. I would have married her if only I was ready or if she was my perfect dream wife. All I wanted was more of a mother.

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The silhouette of the sun was upon my face.  Blood, frozen in my skull, was incomparable to the feelings I had deep within.  I thought about God; what God would think of me now.  I began to discover myself; my strengths and weaknesses.  I discovered what I felt in my heart and in my pants. I had also been seeing Dr. Susan the family therapist.  She was also helping me discover myself as a man. What a burden I was to shoulder.

“Hello Eric…how are you coping?” Dr. Susan asked as she looked at me from underneath her hazel framed glasses.

“I’m doing well Dr, much better now.”

“Good …good! How are your dreams?  Are they still…”

I interrupted before Dr. Susan could finish speaking.  I wanted to talk to her so badly; I had a lot on my mind. “Hmmm…they are still there, so are the thought, feelings, desires etc…I love her doc…I do!!!”

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I was feeling very well today.  My girlfriend and I had just come from a fun vacation to sex land.   She let it loose this time.  She actually said it was me that was the wild one.  I don’t think so. She’s thin and hot, pear shaped, smells good.  She turns me on.

            Sunday morning was church. I liked church…a little. I think. My guilt couldn’t let me go and actually worship today.  Last week before I went to see Dr. Susan, I had done something I enjoyed but also wanted to die because of.  I was walking down the path of my hallway.  It was about 1:00am in the morning.   I just had one of those dreams…and I guess I was still asleep.  Mama’s door was a little cracked open like a crease on a shirt.  It was just a little bit awkward that I noticed this night; mama’s door is always open.

  I slowly walked to the rest room…I slowly unzipped my pant…my penis was a little harder than usual…it is mostly after those dreams.   Suddenly like waves chasing after the sun so it doesn’t burn its silky skin; thoughts ran through my mind.  Mama was right there in me; me in her.  I ran to mama room; I undressed her, I fell on her bed and…a breeze of hot flame blew at my heart.  Mama cried. 

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            Since I was a child I had always been a keen child.  I was sensitive in everyway.  I liked to stay home; and be around mama.  I was mama’s baby.  Papa was never there of course; he left when I was like two.  But, Dr. Susan knew.  She knew something was wrong.  I didn’t.  I just thought everyone’s penis was always rising; especially after getting a hug or kiss from their mama.  Mama knew too; she was a little keener than me. She knew there was some attachment I had that was not healthy; that is why she contacted Dr. Susan. But Dr. Susan knew more than mama.  She knew I loved mama in a crazy, intense and hotter than pepper in my buttocks way.  But what Dr. Susan did not know was that I loved, really loved, my mother.

 

 

 

 

 

  

Wake Up

　

Intro: Alone he lived, like a man disowned by nature. David Rooster, a fifty year old man, who wore raggedy clothing and shoes. His hair was grayer than rain. He was short and wrinkled. One lonesome day, Rooster went into another world where nothing is real and he doesn't return back home until one famous bird sends out a cooing sound. After Rooster falls asleep, in his dreams he sees things of outside nature. A dark angel, ugly as a witch, played trumpets. "What beautiful sounds it makes," Rooster exclaimed. But this was a mistake; for the anguish of his life all started out with these sounds. This is the story of the life of David Rooster.

Storyline:David Rooster, unlike his present, once had an angelic wife and daughter who shared the same nature as her mother. One a Monday morning the incomprehensible occurred that left Rooster to be miserable.

"Hey sweetie," David sang joyously.

"Hi Daddy," the beautiful little girl uttered excitedly.

"Honey, are you coming to pick me and Karen up after work?" Angelica, the wife of David Rooster uttered softly. She was a beautiful woman. Her hair was long and flawless. Her bright eyes were Gray-blue. "Yes dear. Sure! Anything for you baby!" David replied humorously.

That afternoon Rooster as instructed by his beautiful wife, picked up Karen from school and then his wife. On their way home what would lead Rooster to despair occurred.

David Rooster drove in his BMW as he switched on his radio. For so long David Rooster had been a fan of music. Oh baby, oh baby, the radio played. Like a woman in love, his heart jumped at every sound of baby. His inspiration was the love of his life, Angelica. Strategically David turned to his lovely wife, Angelica, to give a smile of affection to his lovely wife. The gear was still in drive. David Rooster stretched out his lips to kiss his wife as the steering wheel gradually eased itself from his hands.

"Daddy look, haaaaaaa!" Karen screamed. An act of love caused by music had begun the desolate fate of David Rooster. The fatal accident had killed Karen and Angelica. Only Rooster had survived the fatal accident. In his unconscious David travels to a place where winged humans with white faces govern its territory.

David, still asleep, continues to parade this strange place in his dreams. Suddenly, like a thunder storm before David eyes was a being. "Hello Son, welcome!" it exclaimed.

"But you are not my father," Rooster projected.

"Welcome home, your prayers were heard from a far. Come let me free." It said stretching its arms like a playful baby.

Rooster now in tears, leaning towards his guardian, leaped towards its arm. He wept.

As if in a dream Rooster awoke back to mystery. Sweating like a wet dog, he brushed the sweat off his forehead. David the dreamer is no where to be found, in David Rooster he resides.

David wakes up from his sleep. "What have I just seen? Does sleep tease me with my mystery?" Rooster thought endlessly. The puzzle he faced was about to be deciphered through the power of thoughts.

Like a ticking clock, time waited for Rooster to go back into his realm; to meet his father, this being. Finally Rooster slept again. Sleep had disguised itself using a cloak of human mentality (these things don't happen). Rooster went into sleep but this time, unlike before the pain of life weighed on his mind would not allow him to wake. Nature is what we see, the supernatural is past visible.

In Rooster's dream he sees his so-called father. "Welcome back son," God roared infectiously.

"I am back father," Rooster replied as if chanting a witches' portion. In his eyes were deep emotions.

Rooster, all this while, was in a world where thoughts represented the earth and Rooster lived in it. The only reality was the fatal accident with his wife and kid. But this is not yet to be revealed to Rooster. His dreams have kidnapped his life and only one thing can bring him back to life.

To himself Rooster thought, "Where could this place be? Its images are prettier than gems or pearls. It is not on land but then where? I don't want to be here. Its uncertainty melts away my mind like a dissolving soap. I must escape, I must! But I do not wake, what then do I do? Do I send shrieking sounds, like help? What I see couldn't exist. Let me free from this dungeon, let me free. Like a stone tied to a rock I can't even utter a sound." Rooster wept loudly.

"Son," a thunderous voice yelled, it was God, Roosters' spiritual father.

"What strait or path does this place lead into?" David spoke. "I don't want to stay here. I run, run, like the fishes of the sea, whose voyage has no end." Rooster responded.

"What silly thought fills your head? Do you not like it here? Am I too strange for you? Huh? You prayed and I answered you. Now what terrible pay do you extend?" God stormed ferociously.

Shaking like a cold little girl, whose homeostasis could no longer keep a stable environment, he spoke, "I am free to live in my world. But all I needed was comfort; someone to love and my mystery to disappear. I am already locked up in my inside cage, but now I am locked up physically. Please let me free and live a life that's real." David knelled as if praying. During this turmoil, David still lives in a world of thoughts. Thoughts are his house of sleep and he wants to be free from this house. All his conversation and the supernatural things he sees all take place in his thoughts. Rooster is obviously unaware of his unconsciousness.

"Walk me through the paths of life and don't let me fall," Rooster prayed. Prayer in the presence of his almighty was answered speedily.

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Rooster walked by and by like a ticking clock, never resting. Thunder struck and God appeared.

"Rooster- the bird," He thundered.

The bird that acts like a world-wide alarm, the bird with a long neck that alters the noisiest waking cue, the bird we all know as a Rooster appeared in the presence of his master.

He bowed like a broken plastic bottle. "Yes your majesty!"

"OK here is the plan. You will play a role in David Rooster's life. You will cockle doodle-do three times and wake him back to life." God spoke commandingly.

"Yes as you wish so shall it be," the rooster-bird replied.

This is now set. The date of Rooster's misery has reached its deadline.

Cockle doodle-do,Cockle doodle-doo , Cockle doodle-doo," the bird echoed loudly but distinctively.

"Huh! Where have I been? It seems time had passed me by without notice." Rooster spoke as if his last breath would end in a sentence.

Rooster now back to life had begun a new life with his new family. All he needed was to see that his situation of bondage was only temporal. Every situation man finds himself comes and goes. Through faith in God, we can achieve the impossible.

In the heavens, God mourns the absence of his spiritual son. "I wanted him to stay. My companions are too broad to distinguish. But he had about him a sort of uniqueness that would make a good company. Cursed be the bird and more cursed be the mouth that instructed it to coo and bring him back to earth. If only we could be together; my children wouldn't suffer. But he got his wish and I hope he is gay and continues to pray. Morning awake let him shin. Beauty arise, bring him luck. Blessed is my spiritual son; David Rooster."

The End

　

　

　

　

Why Her?

             Why Her?

     “Baby, what are you doing?” Becky called from the bathroom. I could hear her hair dryer from the bedroom where I stood. I was standing because I was terrified of sitting on Becky’s bed because I did not want to give the wrong impression.

       Becky and I had decided to start a dating relationship after months and months of pleading with her to date me. I loved Becky’s warm and slightly crooked smile. I loved Becky’s nose. It was long and small. My utmost favorite was Becky’s grey eyes like that of a pussy cat.

“What honey,” I called to her.

“What are you doing,” Becky replied as she lowered the volume of the hair dryer, which I guessed means she decreased the speed of the dryer. I was tempted to pretend I did not hear her, but I did not do that; I replied. “I am just looking around Becky. What a nice place you have here.”

Becky walked into the bedroom, her brownish dark hair glowed, her towel was no longer on her curvaceous body, and it laid there on the floor as her beautiful eyes seduced me to come closer. I did.

“Rock-a- bye – baby on the tree top…lalalalalalala…,” Becky sang to me. She was fond of singing nursery rhymes to me. She enjoyed treating me like a baby. Honestly, that was exactly why I loved Becky.

Becky and I enjoyed months of romantic, sometimes rocky times together. I was fond of her as she was me. We ran marathons together for Breast cancer awareness. We sat by the lake once and we prayed together. Sometimes she slapped me across the face for always putting my family before her, especially my mother. I could have slapped Becky back, but I was used to getting that treatment from my strict but loving mother.

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Dark clouds filled the sky. It was unusual for the weather channel to give a wrong forecast in New York. Tomorrow was a special day; Becky was going to be my wife. I felt okay. I felt happy. I felt worried, I felt loved. I loved Becky and she loves me. I slowly walked to my law briefcase and pulled out my journal. I wrote in it.

Dear Mama,

I love you. You are my wife (I erased it, I meant to say life.) You are my life. I cannot do without you. Please don’t leave me. I love you. I know I will make you proud.

With all my heart,

Johnny

“John, John,” my brother called.

“Yes what’s up bro?” I replied

“Don’t mess this up okay. You got a great woman who loves you. So don’t do anything stupid. Okay!”

“What are you talking about,” I swallowed.

Nothing hurt me more than hurting Becky.

The wedding ceremony was good. We had a well polished preacher at the church. The reception was even better. There were African music, American music (including Rock, Pop, and Slow Jamz), we even had jazz. The food tasted simply yummy; nothing more, nothing less. Around 8:00pm, after dancing the night away with my Becky we were ready to go back to our one night suite. We thanked some friends and family members. We entered the white decorated, quite expensive limo Becky had rode to the church. Becky had held my hand as we walked to the vehicle.

“Baby….,” Becky whispered softly in my ear.

“Yes sexy woman...I mean sexy wife …” I whispered back

“Well I have a surprise for you…”

My ears pooped up. I could feel their heat on the back of my neck. She went into the bathroom with a Victoria secret bag in her hand. My heart raced like a horse on the racetracks, it galloped. I had never been this excited to make love to Becky. It was going to be a great night. As soon as I took off my clothes, Becky walked into the bedroom. I grabbed her by the waist, laid her on her back across the bed. I took off her red satin panties…then I paused.

I whispered in her ear gently in fear, “I need to call mama.”

She cried, “Why John!”

I knew Becky was hurt because she never called me John before especially during such an intense moment.

I got off her and sat on the edge of the bed with my hands to my chin, she deserved an answer. I mumbled,” I love mama and I do not want to love another woman more than her.”

Becky cried. I held her in my arms. I cradled her. For the first time I sang to her, “Rock-a-bye. Baby-on- the – tree top ….” Also for the first time I said to my wife Becky Charles, “I love you baby!”

　

　

　

A Love Story

                                               

　　　　　　　　　　　 I looked out. It was a hot morning in Spring.　 I was crying.　 The day was clear, the sun reflected against my bedroom window.　 Despite the kind of day, I could not be consoled. Pat had left me.　 He threw a dirty sock in my face and shouted at me, “You are a dirty slut.”　 He stated he was the only man I could get and even he did not want me. The saddest part of my story is this: I believed him.

　

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“Hello, Julie” Pat walked over and stood in front of my desk with his hands placed gently against his chin.　 He was a sexual man.　 I could tell.　 I sweat.　

“Hello, Pat,” I stuttered as I wrapped a strand of hair around my index finger.　 Pat was tall, about 6’3, white, built and ugly beautiful.　 He was also the principal of Divine Misery Elementary School located in Arkansas, Little Rock near a fishing pool and an old antique beauty store.　

　　　　　　　　　　　 “So Julie,” Pat casually smirked. “What are you doing after work…around 6pm.”

I stopped him after he said 6pm, “yes…”

　　　　　　　　　　　 I love men.　 I loved Pat.　 I loved his smile, face, height, muscles. Man, I loved Pat.　 I wanted to tell him after our first night together. But I did not.

　

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　 I was a racist even though I was Chadian (a mix of every race).　 I was also an atheist; I had not even a single faith in God.　 I disliked black men.　　 To me, they were loud, rude, dirty, broke and without manner.　 I wanted to slap my white friend when she told me how hot black men were to her.　　

　　　　　　　　　　　 I masturbated often; even when I was sick of sex.　 Sex was my therapy since age 7.　 My mother had left me and my father had died of a drug overdose.　 I look good to some; I look okay to others.　 I grill, I cook, I bake, I bathe, I sing, I yell,　 I scream, I question, I laugh, I regret and I occupy.　 I do not kill.　 I would have if I had let the gun fire, but fate saved me.

　

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　　　　　　　　　　　 I thought while I picked my round big toenail.　 I thought about Pat.　 I questioned in my mind his genuine love for me.　 “Julieee,” Pat exhaled as he barged into our two bedroom apartment parlor.

　　　　　　　　　　　 “Where is my jogging boxers; you were suppose to wash them.”

　　　　　　　　　　 “I did honey; they’re in the closet.”

　　　　　　　　　　　 “Julieeeeeeeee,” He called my name blowing hot air with clenched fist.

I had never seen my fiancé this upset, over boxers.　 We moved in together before a month, two weeks and about two days into our marriage.

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Thunder sparked.　 What a gloomy day to be out this late, I remember thinking.　 It was

Pat stormed in with a smirk.　 A smirk so evil I thought I was looking at a demon.　 I rushed to him, I begged him as to where he had been.　 He confessed to my surprise, “you do not know how to fuck; you are one dirty hoe…” He continued, “you are a dirty hoe, you need to go to the gym; you stank.”　 He threw a pair of his dirty gym socks at me.　 My knees shook; my hair frizzed.　I realized what was going on. Pat had found another woman that tasted better than me.

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I am Julie Cloak.　 I love to sing and write.　 I write love songs mostly. Shame is everlasting in my heart.　 I love.　 The gun gains my love; so I save its last bullets.　The gun represents Pat. I will not kill myself. I love me too now.　 I love me. Yes I do.　I joined the church after two weeks of utter solitude and my depression over Pat. A colleague of mine had brought me to the church, where she received salvation and peace. A year later after much dedication to the born again life, I was chosen to head the church. My congregation is my life. They listen, they beg, they call me Ms. Cloak.　 I am a cloak to them. I failed God’s entire test with my gruesome past. But, I am a saved born-again now.　 I have no hope in life or a man but in God only.　 My gloomy days are over.　 I am minister at St. Paul Baptist Church in Alleghany, Maryland.　 I have a purpose.　 I choose life over death.　 I choose Jesus Christ over my past life and Pat, the gun.

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“Hey honey, I didn’t do the dishes.　 I am so tired; service was long today,” I complained to my husband, Joseph.　 We met at church the first week I got saved.　 “It’s fine Mrs. Bond…” He laughed “I cleaned the dishes and washed our clothes” my loving husband Joseph replied.　 It’s been two and half years since Pat left me in the apartment.

I smiled, looked out the window at the rain dripping incessantly outside our four bedroom house.