I call him Buggy Birthed beautifully in the middle of November A boy with big brown eyes Batting his long lashes, blushing with pride He is bigger now, just about to turn four Bouncing around buoyantly The kid is never a bore Building blocks and robots Overflow in his toy box But remember, bath time without bubbles You will be in for brief rumble Bursting with laughter The busy-body Bugs bolts to his bed To read a book, while Mommie rubs his head Bundled in his favorite blanket, he closes his eyes Buggy is now tucked in, beloved, goodnight.
Venus as a Boy. Over the last three years and nine months I have been supremely connected to my youngest sister’s first child, my joy, my Godson, Buggy. While the years have gone by rapidly, building a family, has been a big goal of theirs…thus I share with you The Reveal.
This makeshift desk of mine has everything I need to be successful. The writer that lives inside of me embarks daily on the task of refreshing its mind to new stories, ideas, research, what if’s and the why not’s. The books that surround me are that of classics, historical books on just about every country and culture. Fiction and non fiction writing, lists of autobiographies, references books galore along with my adorned religious scriptures. There are pictures facing my direction with eyes that inspire me to be the best at my craft.
I was told to find an Alpha Male, thus I did so… The influence and power of the letter P. A story of a private relationship that encouraged emotions; vulnerability, disengagement, loyalty, compromise and understanding mixed with shame, guilt, control and a masterful domination. These words hold so much weight, on my shoulders, heavy still, that even a few months of working through my past situation, still haunts my day to day. It’s not easy… to have held a person in such a bright light to realize that light was a mere flicker of a once full wick. One word, not mentioned above was Love.
A city… Tonight I sat outside and just listened…I craved the vibe, random singing of Metallica as a bicyclist pushes up the hill, I realized that a city atmosphere is what I have been missing… just seeing LIFE unfold organically. I didn’t realize it until this eve…no one can ever really be lonely in a metropolis.
I write what others tend to suppress in their thoughts. I say the things you wish you could. No fear do I have for the things that I will say. I write truth, sex filled fictional stories, personal bliss and the journeys’ of my past and present. I am an observer, an emotion agent, a linguistic major, a mind that never sleeps. My thoughts are given freedom with the touch of my fingertips to computer or pen to pad. I express my love, hate, aggressive and progressive nature through my writing. I accept all the things that are given to me through human contact and interaction. I take in what I see instead of overlooking things like most people do. I imagine stories of what if’s and why not’s. I can write a script with a hundred scenarios, all of them with different conflicts and endings. This is my calling, my therapy, my self freedom, satisfaction and sometimes distraction, an architect of words building a verbal high-rise, a gardener planting the seeds of emotions …