11 Things I Wish My Daughter To Know – Wisdom for my daughters –

Athena, Goddess Of Wisdom
1)  Hold your head high, you’re beautiful, every day, all the time. When a man asks you to change your appearance to be acceptable to him, walk away and be yourself. Develop your character inside. Beauty is deeper than an outward appearance.
2)  Respect yourself. In all you do and say, be a woman of class and honor. You will not get respect until you respect yourself.
3)  Follow your dreams, never let a relationship, whether it be friendship, or love, rob you of what you dream.
4)  Be independent, make sure of your own finances, health, and career. Always have a way of escape – financially, physically, and emotionally.
5)  Beware when you find yourself rescuing a man, whether financially or emotionally. They will use your motherly instincts to manipulate you and guilt to force your hand to provide for them.
6)  Every gift has a price, you may not see it at first, but it’s there. Don’t take lavish gifts from men, they will pressure you with it. Earn what you want on your own.
7)  When a man hits you, he WILL hit you again. You need to leave right away or know that you will get beat in the future. He will not change, you will suffer at his hand. There are no exceptions to this rule.
8)  Listen to your heart, when you feel something is wrong, something is. These are your gifts, empathy and insight.
9)  Precipitating a crisis to keep a man from leaving is a grave error. Getting pregnant, getting “sick”, using his secrets to threaten him, these will all backfire on you.
10)  Pick the things you will and won’t deal with. Every man will have some quality that will drive you crazy, a fault that may or may not be forgivable. Choose what faults you will or won’t deal with BEFORE you’re in a relationship and stick to your decision.
11)  Do not cheat on your man, this can lead to great violence toward you and injury to your self esteem. There is never a happy ending to this, if he cheats with you he’ll cheat on you. If you’re not satisfied with your man, leave. This can save your life.

These things will help keep you safe and happy, and will prevent your dad from having to kill someone…

Love you girls,
Pops

Related Posts:
11 Things I Wish My Son To Know
11 Things Observed In the Betrayal Of My Friend

Also published in Broowaha 

 12152011 

Never Forget Me

“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”
Albert Einstein

 

fairies-mermaids-and-unicorns
Explore my world, many facets of reality
Explore my world, many inspired moments
Open my palace of imagination
Open my spontaneity of creation
Experience my ride in the heights
Experience my flow of movement
A sound will bring me to you
A breeze will bring me to you

You will never forget me

07012011

Angel, Part 5 – Jealousy Breeds Over Angel’s Dancing

bunnyalexander

The nights dragged on into months. We both learned the game, with a quickness necessitated out of survival rather than, as she supposed, fun and glamor. My angels’ eyes lost their shine, being replaced with a distant look now shared with the rest of the dancers. She was fresh on the scene, and new girls make a lot of money the first few months of their rotation, their clients hoping to sway them with “generosity”. Other more unscrupulous men, professionals, hoping to secure her in their own businesses, would throw her lure after lure and line after line. Not knowing how to handle the growing concern and yes, jealousy, I tormented myself by watching her night after night, grinding on them, whispering to them, and worse still, disappearing into the private rooms that cheapened the scene, their rudely built walls ending a foot short of the ceiling. My guts ripped in agony night after night, developing a hardness of heart that was unnatural but soothing. One client in particular purposely set himself to provoke me, giving me the impression that he was a danger to my angel, which drove me near insanity. I begged to her to dance for anyone else but him, it tormented me. Many nights I watched him with interest and growing anger, burning deep inside, like only a jealous lover can feel. A hatred growing so strong as to rival the love I had and would soon turn me into a dangerous man. He took her one night into the room, I followed and sat close, as close as I could get. Tears welled in my eyes, anger pushing at me, jealousy tugging me, my own care for her demanding I take action. I had not yet resorted to violence in my life as a means to an end, but that would soon change. For now, I took an unconventional approach. I yelled for her to stop. I figured if she wanted money, I would give her money, I could give her what he did, or so I believed. I threw hundred-dollar bills in crumpled wads over the wall, pleading for her to stop. He was giving her what I could never give her again, a stranger’s attention. I stormed out of the building, everything in me screaming and confused and on fire with powerful passion. She came and found me, comforting me, with kisses now growing cheaper with time, telling me that it was her job, and it was. However, I would learn that there are other parts of her job that were not so well advertised to those on the outside. This lesson I would be taught well, emphasized by the peculiar fact that I never saw those hundred-dollar bills again, ever, it was never even mentioned.

  

Also published in Broowaha

12132011 



Angel, Part 5 – Jealousy Breeds Over Angel’s Dancing

bunnyalexander

The nights dragged on into months. We both learned the game, with a quickness necessitated out of survival rather than, as she supposed, fun and glamor. My angels’ eyes lost their shine, being replaced with a distant look now shared with the rest of the dancers. She was fresh on the scene, and new girls make a lot of money the first few months of their rotation, their clients hoping to sway them with “generosity”. Other more unscrupulous men, professionals, hoping to secure her in their own businesses, would throw her lure after lure and line after line. Not knowing how to handle the growing concern and yes, jealousy, I tormented myself by watching her night after night, grinding on them, whispering to them, and worse still, disappearing into the private rooms that cheapened the scene, their rudely built walls ending a foot short of the ceiling. My guts ripped in agony night after night, developing a hardness of heart that was unnatural but soothing. One client in particular purposely set himself to provoke me, giving me the impression that he was a danger to my angel, which drove me near insanity. I begged to her to dance for anyone else but him, it tormented me. Many nights I watched him with interest and growing anger, burning deep inside, like only a jealous lover can feel. A hatred growing so strong as to rival the love I had and would soon turn me into a dangerous man. He took her one night into the room, I followed and sat close, as close as I could get. Tears welled in my eyes, anger pushing at me, jealousy tugging me, my own care for her demanding I take action. I had not yet resorted to violence in my life as a means to an end, but that would soon change. For now, I took an unconventional approach. I yelled for her to stop. I figured if she wanted money, I would give her money, I could give her what he did, or so I believed. I threw hundred-dollar bills in crumpled wads over the wall, pleading for her to stop. He was giving her what I could never give her again, a stranger’s attention. I stormed out of the building, everything in me screaming and confused and on fire with powerful passion. She came and found me, comforting me, with kisses now growing cheaper with time, telling me that it was her job, and it was. However, I would learn that there are other parts of her job that were not so well advertised to those on the outside. This lesson I would be taught well, emphasized by the peculiar fact that I never saw those hundred-dollar bills again, ever, it was never even mentioned.

  

Also published in Broowaha

12132011 



He Will Never Stop – Endurance in spite of opposition

“If any of you have a desire to be mediocre, you will probably find that you have already achieved your ambition.” – Hugh B. Brown
totamanie

Sweat drops find their way down his brow

Sword drops resting on the ground
One more swing to win this victory
Never will he stop

Sounds of the crowd who never understand
Shouts of their doubt force his hand
One more try to break free
Never will he stop

Accusations thrown out of animosity
Ridiculous minds seeking a curiosity
One more valiant swing
Never will he stop

Its the end of a thing that is better than its start
Pushing past mediocrity, his fight a fine art
One more heave to the end
Never will he stop 

04162011

He Will Never Stop – Endurance in spite of opposition

“If any of you have a desire to be mediocre, you will probably find that you have already achieved your ambition.” – Hugh B. Brown
totamanie

Sweat drops find their way down his brow

Sword drops resting on the ground
One more swing to win this victory
Never will he stop

Sounds of the crowd who never understand
Shouts of their doubt force his hand
One more try to break free
Never will he stop

Accusations thrown out of animosity
Ridiculous minds seeking a curiosity
One more valiant swing
Never will he stop

Its the end of a thing that is better than its start
Pushing past mediocrity, his fight a fine art
One more heave to the end
Never will he stop 

04162011

The Beautiful Rejected Ones – Spontaneous acts of kindness

 “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.” – Plato
“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
Mother Teresa
 
paintingmania

How strong am I? I didn’t know until I faced death, loneliness, depression, lost a loved one, felt the pain of hating my body, experienced the betrayal of a lover, and wrestled with an addiction. These I have done and come back from, being rewarded with an understanding and compassion for those teetering on the point of no return. So many people on that edge, looking self loathing, rejection, and death in the face. These are the outcasts, the downtrodden, the incarcerated, the elderly, the dis-formed, the dysfunctional, the addicted. I will be a friend, a partner to those rejected by the crowd. Starving for affection and acceptance, withering beneath the blazing sun of rejection by family, by friends, by society. Orphans, left behind, stranded on islands of disorders: disorders of eating, thinking, mobility, and socializing. I don’t know their pain, their reason for leaving the path to wander aimlessly through a deep and lonely sea, finding themselves without a way back. I will be the ship on the horizon. I will send up the smoke of my prayers that they may see a sign before they see me and have hope.  Many don’t want, or will refuse help. I mean no offense to their independence, I don’t want to change them, that they must do themselves, if they need to change at all. I wish only to offer a respite from their routine. That is my resolution for this new year, to travel to the edge of my world, the edge of the parties, the edge of church services, the edge of bars, the edge of communities, and bring to them a concerned and loving hand of compassion. I will bring hope, an opportunity to get back up and try again, a break to breathe easier, refreshing them. With this sip of cold water, perhaps I may save a life or revive a weary soul to get up and come out of the cold, into the warmth of love. Look for me this new year, you will find me in the company of these, the beautiful rejected ones.

Also published in: Broowaha 
12312011

The Beautiful Rejected Ones – Spontaneous acts of kindness

 “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.” – Plato
“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
Mother Teresa
 
paintingmania

How strong am I? I didn’t know until I faced death, loneliness, depression, lost a loved one, felt the pain of hating my body, experienced the betrayal of a lover, and wrestled with an addiction. These I have done and come back from, being rewarded with an understanding and compassion for those teetering on the point of no return. So many people on that edge, looking self loathing, rejection, and death in the face. These are the outcasts, the downtrodden, the incarcerated, the elderly, the dis-formed, the dysfunctional, the addicted. I will be a friend, a partner to those rejected by the crowd. Starving for affection and acceptance, withering beneath the blazing sun of rejection by family, by friends, by society. Orphans, left behind, stranded on islands of disorders: disorders of eating, thinking, mobility, and socializing. I don’t know their pain, their reason for leaving the path to wander aimlessly through a deep and lonely sea, finding themselves without a way back. I will be the ship on the horizon. I will send up the smoke of my prayers that they may see a sign before they see me and have hope.  Many don’t want, or will refuse help. I mean no offense to their independence, I don’t want to change them, that they must do themselves, if they need to change at all. I wish only to offer a respite from their routine. That is my resolution for this new year, to travel to the edge of my world, the edge of the parties, the edge of church services, the edge of bars, the edge of communities, and bring to them a concerned and loving hand of compassion. I will bring hope, an opportunity to get back up and try again, a break to breathe easier, refreshing them. With this sip of cold water, perhaps I may save a life or revive a weary soul to get up and come out of the cold, into the warmth of love. Look for me this new year, you will find me in the company of these, the beautiful rejected ones.

Also published in: Broowaha 
12312011

Angel, Part 6 – The Flip Side –

moolf

Driving her to the club once again, my eyes showed the strain of working all day and watching her all night. We parted with our usual exchange of kisses and hugs. I drove away, looking back at my Angel, her innocent looks were slowly changing, leaving traces of fear and emptiness. My Angel, I want to take you away from all this. Gathering myself, like I always did when I had to leave her, I drove away slowly. The day I drove away faster than I came to her would be the end. Halfway home, my phone vibrated to life…its Angel, “Baby, don’t come back, I’m staying here.” “What!” I screamed into the phone, “What’s wrong, what happened?”. “They told me you were screwing another dancer, that you would hurt me, and that I needed to stay with them”. Swerving off the road, pulling a two point turn that would make a stuntman jealous, I peeled out back to her, stones and dust chasing me.

 
I hit the gravel parking lot, cranked the wheel and slid sideways toward the entrance. Flinging my door open, I jumped out, the car was still rolling. I didn’t give it the least thought, my only concern, was finding out who was sabotaging my relationship. “Fucking jealous haters, always gotta try some shit to get what they want. This time they went to far, I’ve had it.” It’s a bad thing when I talk to myself like that. The bar was still closed, the girls getting ready in the back. Kicking the door open, completely breaking the lock, I began my incursion. A want-to-be bouncer put his hands on me, I looked at him with rage lighting up my eyes. He let go almost immediately, standing back with both hands up, saying “Calm down man!”. I wasn’t a small man, throwing around logs all day had toughened and thickened me to serious looking potential, and this perhaps kept him at a distance as well. I kept screaming, “Who is the mother fucker who is spreading this shit about me?”. I grabbed a stool, throwing it across the bar into the one of the many mirrors, mirrors reflecting now, a passion of a very different sort.
 

Breaking glass announced to the rest of the club that something is about to go very, very wrong. Leaving a path of destruction, I found the dressing room, threatening anyone and everyone, screaming for my accusers to show themselves. Dancers ran, screaming, scared. Another bouncer looked frantically under the bar, probably going for a gun, which apparently wasn’t there. I sent mirrors flying, the carefully arranged makeup, scattered like cockroaches in the light as I flipped over tables. Smashed lipstick resembling bloody smears littered the carpet, as  I continued my enraged foray. Confronting her I used all my control to not be rough with my angel. She boldly said, “it was the owner, Paul and his wife”. “Fucking players, they just want a threesome with you!”, I responded, knowing Paul’s intentions from the start. They had to remove me from the game, for the very reason that was now playing out, their worst nightmare, a jealous raging man, with nothing to lose. I stormed out of the dressing room, now a disaster area, and focused on finding Paul.


Going back toward the entrance, I saw him, puffed up and proud, yelling at me. I ran and grabbed him with both hands, lifting him off the ground, pinning him to wall by his neck. I drew back and was just about to punish him, when I started to calm down. If I hit him like this, I would crush his cheek bones, ruin his jaw, and screw his life up for a good amount of time. I let him down as my Angel grabbed me and pulled me to the bathroom. She had an evil grin, an excitement at all this done for her, over her. She loved it, every minute. When I heard the crackle of police radios, she smiled again “there here for you”. Yeah they were here for me. From now on, the police would come four men and two cars deep when they heard my name.

 

 

Breaking Adolescence: The Prayer Of The Girl

This is a post from a talented young lady who I’ve come to admire for her writings, enjoy.

 

All I ask for is quiet beauty;

Admiration from men, not fawning over my bosom,

but of my womanly ways.

Let my body not betray me,
to the confinement of a bed-
to my only knowledge being of how to pleasure men.

I hope to keep my face,
open and without tears,
of the foolish kind covered with foundation 
and “ageless” years.

If I become a mother,
I hope not to stay home,
as a prerequisite of marriage,
and until the burying of my bones.

I wish to be free,
please,
let it be.

“Amen..”

-R.S.L.S

Link to original article