I am the girl that can come off a bit clingy
Often scaring those who cross my path.
My thoughts may seem a bit stringy
Coming off to one like a bloodbath.
I will shoot for the stars
Providing those I love with my support.
Depending who looks you can see the scars
This makes some want to abort.
Giving my all with folks that let her through
As they becoming a part of the life.
There are pieces only few knew
I will occasionally show it all within a rife.
No one can tell me who I am
I do not follow a diagram.

2922 days, 417 weeks, 96 months,
the 8 long years it’s taken for me to know you,
was this born of hate?
is that why i find myself as resentful as i am?
i could never be numb to you,
i could never be apathetic to you,
i could never feel nothing for you,

hate or love,
hate or love,
hate or love,
and i can’t understand what’s in between,

there’s a house stoic hill,
woodland lonesome edelweiss,
just as you’d like
to which i arise,
to which you descend,
i dream about when i’m in the snow,

the house lives and breathes when i could feel the grass on my feet,
i heard you sing through a window ajar,
songs of seraphina,
you are the indescribable view of beauty,

as i open the front door to let myself in i kick the glue from my boots that keep me in place,
i step into rot and decay.
i feel the candles extinguish as i walk past,
i hear the weeping angles,
i smell the cankerous taxidermy,
my hands freeze from the arctic bite of the door handle as i let myself open to discover the indescribable,
asphyxiating from my ring you wear on your neck,
bleeding from my bite on your shoulder,
pale deficient from the dying sun,
the discord that drips from the welt of monstrosity,
why won’t god keep it out my head?
vomit inducing horror i would sooner be blind than see
disgusting shape of unknowable inhumanity,
emotion formed action,
building mountains on your skin,
you moan in pain from knowledge of thyself
but was it me who clipped your wings?

Hey, you, old man.
This is a letter to yourself and from yourself.
You know all those things you’ve done wrong,
Regardless of who’s fault, or who’s right or wrong.
But this is not of that my friend…
Yeah, it’s amazing.You can call yourself friend now, but you are! ♥
I know those things I put myself and others through.
I remember the dreams and aspirations.All the good things I had for you.
Looking back is confusing and God it just makes me cry.
But I’m gonna try to leave You out too.Because this is a letter to myself. To maybe find out why.
But God I can’t, I can’t look back Because it hurts too much…
I can’t go to the beach, I can’t go to school, I can’t go to church, Sitting bereaved, I feel a fool.
But Lord, I can’t do it, I cannot watch.
Cannot go to Toledo. Cannot go to Cleveland cannot go back to jail, God what am I believing?
Cannot run to West Virginia, cannot hospital trend…
All along.I hated myself, yet all the while was a good friend. ☺
I can’t even write.I’m sorry I can’t do this.
All along my life, it was my own mark I missed.
But that’s a good thing because i’m not in hell…
Only I could see my place where ever if I made, could never get bail.
I’m sorry, no can do.
God thank you for saving me from me.

Dear Tay,

Two disclaimers about this piece before I shoot my shot: actually, three. This is not a letter to Taylor Swift, not a ploy to be your man, and I am not calling you Tay to embarrass you!

So, who am I talking about? Two people, Taylor Rooks and Joy Taylor, both of whom are Black women in sports.

When thinking of these women, I won’t lie, they are very physically attractive and some may claim that this is why they are on TV.

They recently collaborated, co-hosting their podcast called Two Personal. Rooks and Taylor do a great job at their “daily job”(talking about sports) and giving a voice to others to express themselves.

In this joint venture, the duo are unfiltered, authentically highlighting the ups and downs of being a minority, especially in the sports world where being judged for superficial characteristics is the norm.

In the first few episodes, they have discussed topics that are, well… personal.

The episodes have included subjects such as pregnancy.

The theme of each episode is not why I am attracted to it, it’s that my personal takeaway is:

No matter what sport they are covering, the leading story about Tayx2 is not about the work the women do in the sports arena, to me, they portray that being a proud Black woman is what they want people to talk about when the conversation about them starts.

I’ve stated this before: sports was a way for me to hold my emotions in, and yes, you would be pretty hard-pressed to convince me that the final seconds of a game where the 16 seed has a chance to push off the 1 seed from “the dance floor” (March Madness pun) is not more heart-throbbing than when the final rose is given out in the Bachelor series.

But the two can co-exist.

So, thank you Joy and Taylor for showing that talking about the final few seconds of the game does not have to be substituted for talking about the first few seconds of my life. They can be on the same team “dancing” together!

Much Love & Respect,

Jake April

Photo credit: Two Personal Instagram Page

I wrote this about my most recent battle of surviving and healing physically/mentally after my car accident. It took me LEFT
“with nothing” to realize I already have everything I need and I can say I am Thankful my God continues to prove his love for me!!

Left. Starving.
Tryin to keep my head up…while being fed up. Hard to stay UP when all you feel is down. Pushed down. All the way down.
To the Mf ground. Stuck on a marry go round. Left. Spinning. Where we stop nobody knows. Can’t afford to take no more blows. Left.
Down where the stream flows.
Saying goodbye to all my belongings.
Saying goodbye to dreams
Suddenly
Saying good riddance to the negativity. Watching my stuff float out of sight.
Still starving but can’t get fed a bite.
Left. Freezing cold with no warmth in sight.
This is where strength kicks in ready to fight. Move how you are forced to move. Wedged. Jammed. Left. Scared. Worried.
Made to believe you have luck.
How, when all I feel is stuck.
Still searching for my belongings
floating in the muck.
Maybe I wasn’t looking for my stuff after all wtf… I was left looking for more outta life.
Left. Just So I can get RIGHT.

Dear You,

Never in a million years did I think I would be so connected with you, but at the same time disconnected.

The thought of ever thinking of you as a POSITIVE mainstay (I use mainstay literally), in my life is like finding a person who does not know what an iPhone is.

The bane of your existence on another person would literally freeze me.

I could not talk at the mere sight of seeing what felt like a drowning impact you had and sometimes still have, on the lives of innocent humans.

Prematurely punishing them with the ability to not talk!

This confinement… well, it just seems like the prison sentence of Jeffrey Deskovic, a man who spent 16 years innocently behind bars. A person who missed 16 years of freedom, family events, friends, and much, much more, for being wrongfully accused.

This powerful story can be read in the new book – “Unseal Your Superpowers: Letters To Inspire The Hero Within You” by Lauren Brill.
(See bottom for link to book).

So much of my life with you I let myself die inside by not behaving as my authentic self.

I was in a stranglehold with you that even the Hulk would not be strong enough to combat your grasp.

Despite you letting go of that fiercely tight grip, I have the scars to show for it.

After years of healing, the scar’s are still there. All but so faint, no amount of scar cream can make it evaporate.

The pain of you will always be there, nagging me like a tag on the back of a shirt.

I realize that tag is not meant to be ripped off or even taken off as a whole, it’s there as a reminder that sometimes a tag or label will never die, but if you don’t like it you can always use tie dye.

Despite the tag or label still there, this time, I am going to exchange it for one that fits me! Only me — the authentic me! After all, no one can be me!

So, I thank you for the lessons you have taught me, cerebral palsy. Now, I’m going to live life authentically and OWN you, tag and all!

Love your once enemy and now friend,

Jake

Here Is the link to the story mentioned above, and much more.

We are currently donating a portion of our proceeds (10%) to two charities:

Lift Our Voices, which aims to transform the American workplace, making it safer and more equitable for everyone, and Team LeGrand, a fundraising arm of the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation dedicated to supporting quality-of-life initiatives and treatments for spinal cord injuries.

I hated my dad’s classes. He would take out his “Black Tapes”, his Black Law books, and his printed-out thick packets of information from whatever minister or professor he liked then and turn on his computer. It was only occasionally, but the topics of our history always left me feeling uneasy. As I’ve grown, I realized it wasn’t his fault the topics were oppressive to deal with, but I am fortunate he tried to prepare me for the outside world I was entering.

He is good at that.

I was homeschooled and in one of our many classes, I remember he made my brother and I draw a circle on the page in front of us and write these words.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I admired his way of storing and sharing information. His eyes lit up when he had the chance to but other times, he just kept his head in a book or focused on the new installment of monitors on his desk; only to interact again when his friends were around. The people who seemed to matter most.

What he does to me, I do to him. Even though in the deepest parts of our hearts all we want to do is hug each other. We choose to dance around it. We hurt each other, but we do it with love. I know it makes no sense, yet it’s true. I say nothing to protect us and he tells me nothing to keep my image of him from being damaged forever.

Everything he taught me I absorbed. I stood on a podium and to 300 people. I told them that quote he told me. I made them make a circle with their hands and recite these words, again.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I saw him watch me and I could feel how proud he was without having to look. There are moments when I love him with my whole heart and there are moments when I can’t because it hurts. But I always listen to him, just like I know he listens to me.

I love you in the way rain always escapes the forecast. It surprises me how much I always forget my umbrella. I love you and it’s hard because it’s hard to love myself sometimes.

We talk and clash because we both want to be right and since he can’t respond I will part with a piece of his song:

A baby boy, amazing grace. The 20th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the eldest of three.

This sounds like me:

A baby girl, amazing grace. The 25th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the youngest of three.

And this part sounds like us:

Plans were made to visit Grandma and them. But underneath pops’ wings is where you’ll find me. Right before bed was the best of times. I swear moms can read a book and make it come to life. But maybe life pressure got to Mom and Dad. Made them change directions from the ones they had. Buckets of tears running down my face as I watch in pain my hero’s separating.

But with me and you, there are no separations.

On various classic episodes of The Simpsons, Homer’s adventure of the week will sometimes become his lifelong dream, only for Marge to tell him that his lifelong dream was something different entirely and say that he’s already done it.

Example: In Colonel Homer (1992), Homer becomes the manager of a country/western starlet named Lurleen Lumpkin (voiced by guest actor Beverly D’Angelo) and proclaims that it’s been his lifelong dream. Marge’s retort: “Your boyhood dream was to eat the world’s biggest hoagie, and you did it at the county fair last year. Remember?”
Anyway, I bring this up because yesterday, I had my annual meeting with my home health aid and her supervisor, during which time the topic of lifelong dreams came up. I mentioned that my lifelong dream has been to attend an event at the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena.

My home health aid wondered if there were any events held at that venue aside from the Rose Bowl Game on New Year’s Day, to which I mentioned that the stadium is also UCLA’s home stadium for football and that they have flea markets in the stadium parking lots every so often (according to Google, the next Rose Bowl Flea Market is scheduled to take place in March.)

Now, make no mistake: Although I want to attend an event at the Rose Bowl, by no means am I interested in attending a flea market. I want to see a game there. Every time I see a telecast of a sporting event from that stadium, it takes me back to the times I was a bright-eyed little boy watching the Rose Bowl Game on ABC with Keith Jackson on the call.

It’s my hope that one day, this lifelong dream turns into reality.

A note to my younger self
Dear Ms. Vicki Lawana,
I realize you were raised with a double standard as the after affects of being born in 1949.
You were born on September 18, 1949. The most popular song of that year was “RAGTIME COWBOY JOE” By Jo Stafford. The most popular movie was “MISS GRANT TAKES RICHMOND” starring Lucille Ball and William Holden. A comedy about a secretary who unwittingly helps her boss run a betting parlor.
You have so much potential as a young woman. You were born with so many talents. However, you were told as a woman you had to buckle down take care of your man. You questioned that point of view by asking questions of all the family. You thought maybe you were born again, as you looked out your window counting the stars asking the universe why you were here in this house, with this family and now what? You hear a choir singing from far away, as though the angels answered your question.
You grew up learning to play the piano for hours, writing music, singing the blues. Your mom and grandma were your biggest fans.
But as time went on you were told you could not be a singer or none of the things you were interested in at that time. There were only four things a woman was allowed to do in 1949.
1. Secretary
2. Housewife, baby maker, home maker
3. Nurse
4. Retail clerk
Then when your dad tried to teach you mechanics, your mom told you, “Baby girl, ladies don’t work on cars.” So, you went inside the house crying tears of pain because your poppa was your hero. Your mom did not know any better. Your poppa told your mom. “Honey, there will be a time when ladies do work on cars. At least I wanted to teach her the basics.”
Your dad worked long hours except he never worked on a Sunday as that was his family time. Your poppa bought you all the latest rock n roll of the 60s and 70s. Music was the go-to for everything in your family.
You visited a nightclub when you were 15, jumping on stage singing “I’m Sorry” by Brenda Lee.
Of course, you were only 15 and your dad found you, pulled you off stage. Sometime after that you quit singing or playing the piano. That was devastating to you. You would sit in your room writing songs and lyrics listening to all the latest bands.
You grew up in a male patriarchal society. A woman could not buy a house or car without her husband. You marched in parades for equal rights for women and civil rights for people of color.
When the 70s arrived and the women’s movement had opened doors for women to go to college and not be codependent on their husbands. Your dad sent you to nursing school in 1969. You began college studying business management and journalism. You discovered you had a high IQ of 135. You remember back in 1967 you were told your IQ was 95 below average. You were being prepared to survive in a male patriarchal society where men were smart, and women were 2nd class citizens.
You rebelled against this, but still loved men and not always choosing the best characters.
I want to explain, Ms. Vicki, that you listened to everyone but yet kept going to college and aspiring to fulfill your dreams. You worked at the LA Times when you were 30. However, you were introduced to a dude by his brother that worked there. You married him, had two babies as you thought your time clock was running out. When you landed the job at The LA Times it was not about marriage or babies. So once again you lived your double standard. You were divorced in 1989.
Then you worked with a dude in the music and film industry whom you married.
You never really had to marry anyone or have children to fulfill your womanly desires.
I tell you as younger self, finish your degree, don’t marry because you think you must, work hard, play hard, study hard. It’s your life. Then one day you would meet the artist who respects you as a human being not a 2nd class citizen.
Write those stories, interview the same stars you interviewed with your man, but do these procedures as a woman, educated, strong and successful.
I tell my younger self, Ms. Vicki, you are unique, eccentric, artist. You don’t need a man to make you a whole person. The truth be told it’s the men who need a woman to make them feel like a man.
So as a young woman you can do anything your heart desires and use your own talents in your career not worried about your man. Your man will love you for your strong qualities not just a ragtime cowboy side kick, but as a partner in life, a friend, a lover.
GO FOR GUSTO, MS. VICKI!
The rock song of 2023 was “Angry” by The Rolling Stones. The best movie was “Love at First Sight” by Netflix. Have we changed in the last decades? Yes, there are many changes. We stream music and movies through the internet. Web no longer have to go to the theater or concerts to see stars.
There is a group of people in America today who want women to go back to 1949. Ms. Vicki, please work not to let this happen. If there was a time machine I would like to sit and talk to my younger self to tell you, do not marry just because it’s the trend. Do not have babies just because your internal clock is ticking. Study, work, play but do it on your own please.
Ms. Vicki, you love your kids and grands very much. Surly you know your kids and grands have so many choices as men or women. There’s a new future ahead. There’s a rainbow of colors spreading all over the land. The Earth turns in motion to the beat of eternity as learn to move forward for equality for all.