J Series: King Series Prelude - Invincible


J Series: King Series Prelude - Invincible

If I put myself in her shoes; I am scared of what I'll see. A little girl will observe a man holding and loving his two children. She'll see him pick them up and play with them. She'll see him tuck them in at night. Within minutes she'll be able to tell the difference between the love he gives them and the love he gives her. In that moment she'll wonder where her version of him is. Her dad. And then I'll call; eager to hear her voice. And she'll say to me "Daddy are you coming over my house"? And I'll say, "Soon princess I promise". Though soon to her isn't soon enough. Soon can't pick her up and love her like this other man is loving her brother and sister. Soon can't play Mr. Monster with her as her mother is too busy caring for twins. Soon isn't her father. So she'll keep me on the phone to get a fraction of the attention that she deserves. She'll play a game, gossip about her cousins and ask me a million questions to relate who I am to who she is becoming. In the time spent apart, she can feel an new unfamiliarities entering our relationship. All the while, she'll ask me several times If i'm coming over and when. She'll tell me how she has some candy for me and how when I come over we'll eat "panny" cakes. She'll say "daddy you can sleep in my room". A smart little girl. She'll work every angle like a salesman, to help me get closer to her. She's such a magnificent little girl. And at the opposite end of the phone I'll struggle to keep it together. I'll struggle to not be close enough to her to hold her hand. And whether it shows on my face or not I'll be crying. Sometimes the feeling is so intense that I won't even know that I am crying. All I'll know is that my Princess means the world to me and I have to get near her. From the moment she was born that little girl had my heart. And she's too young to know it. She doesn't know how her feeding me and her mother Doritos in the middle of night still stays in my mind. She doesn't know how I revisit the moment of her screaming from the sound of a motorcycle pulling off outside of my window. That terrifying cry sending me into an blind panic. I can't explain how picking her up in that instant made me never want to put her down. My daughter is the physical embodiment of everything that I cherish in this world. And if I look at life through her eyes...If I face the full extent of moving away from her...I see a little girl wondering where her daddy is. In her mind she can't fully understand why her dad isn't around as much. I'd be lying to you If I told you that, the realization of that didn't weigh heavy on my heart. Id' be lying to you If I told you that at my lowest, I didn't reach out for her. Sometimes I reach out to my right hand hoping to feel her little fingertips hit mine. There have been a million nights where I fell to my knees with my arms open, hoping that she'd run into them. Could you imagine what it feels like to hear her cry over the phone. To still feel that same sense of panic and not be able to pick her up is often unbearable. To not be there in these moments is torture. When those kids were murdered at Sandy Hook elementary my heart skipped like every other parents. The need to hold them close to me immediately took over. And yet I could not. I would be lying to you if I told you that it was easy for me to write this.
My Princess....

I never knew how much I meant to him until one day I got upset at him and he cried. But he didn't cry more so because I was upset, he cried because he wasn't reaching the level that I was pushing him too. In that moment I learned that maybe I can be a bit too hard on him. I wasn't just some guy that he saw, I was a man that he idolized. Life was just so hard on me and I'm terrified to think of the ordeals that he might go through. I'm terrified of life hurting him too deeply. And perhaps that paranoia is foolish of me. I should have more faith in him than that. He's my little man. He has my blood in him and will make him strong enough. It's just so hard to think of this world and a little boy in it. It's hard to think that someday my little man will be a gentleman and will get his heart broken because of it. I wasn't always the greatest father towards him. I can admit that. I can admit that there was a time when I let my anger towards his mother get the best of me. I can admit that I was afraid of the of being a young parent. In time all that went away. The fact that he didn't look much like me became irrelevant. He was me. He reminded me so much of how goofy/serious I was when I was a child. He reminded me of how even in a world of such insanity, there can still be something innocent. I found simplicity and joy in his laughter. In the times that we played I remembered innocent joys of my youth. We play fought like my oldest brother and I, when I was a child (before the drugs). He didn't like reading, yet he loved it when I read with him. He didn't like vegetables but he ate them whenever I did. As he spent more and more time with me, I noticed how he would mimic me. My little man...my son...wanted...to be like me. That was amazing to me. It was amazing to us. I wasn't a horrible guy but I wanted to be better for him. I wanted him to aspire to be better than me. As I did my father. We became inseparable. He'd cry when I would bring him back to his mother. I would remind him to stop crying and then I'd go off to work or class. I went from being an afraid young man to an eager father. And then one day everything changed. I called to see when I could pick him up for the week but his mother wasn't as flexible as usual. I suggested different times but those weren't good either. Unbeknownst to me, his mother decided to not let me see him. With a month left to go before my move back to NY, I had to deal with the idea that I would not be able to tell my son good bye. I couldn't focus. I couldn't function. The anger that I had finally put to rest toward her came back stronger than ever. I moved back with the deepest feeling of betrayal that I had ever felt. I channeled that anger into finding a better job and losing weight. I couldn't afford child support + a lawyer, on my salary. I couldn't fight to get him back the way I wanted to and as a father, as a man that hurt. An entire year went by until I heard his voice again. An entire year went by until I saw his face. An entire year went by until I got too hold him. Everyday I wondered how he was doing. It hurt to think of him wondering where I was during his birthday and christmas. It hurt to think of him waiting for us to read books or play with blocks and I never showed up. It hurt even more when I discovered that she had moved with him and I didn't know where he was. Several times, upon leaving a visit with my daughter, I would drive around the city that they were last in. For hours upon hours I would turn down block after block hoping to see her walking with him. I never did though. I never got that relief. She was no longer in contact with any of our old friends. And to my terror I did not know where my little boy actually was. I found myself blocking out thoughts of him in harms way and me not being there to help him. On the days that I couldn't block them out, I would find myself bowing my head and praying in tears at my home or desk. I didn't get my relief until I heard his in a long overdue phone call. The first thing my son said to me was "Daddy can you read me some books"...after a year of not seeing me, my son, who didn't like reading, wanted me to read him some books. In, that moment, those few words broke me. I can't even lie.

A little girl is waiting for her father to come and pick her up. A little boy is waiting for the man that he looks up to, to read him books. My daughter says "Daddy when are you coming to my house"? My son says "Come to my house and Don't leave me". In these moments I find a reason to keep going. My heart breaks with every request, and reassembles with every ended call. In these moments I think of the man I want to be and I strive to become him. Moving away from my children was the greatest pain I have ever faced. And regardless of the reasoning, I will not throw blame towards their mothers and out of respect for them I ask that you do the same. Sorry, but I needed to say said that. I remember the feeling that I felt as I hoped in that Uhaul and drove away. I felt torn in that moment. To be honest I haven't been the same since. I keep going because I will get the life that we need to function. I keep going because they need me and I need them. There is a life destined for us and I am and will be there dad. They will not look to another man as their father. Being far from them has hurt me more than any man or woman is capable of hurting me. In my mind I can picture driving down to a house that I own near them. In it their would be two rooms. One for a boy and one for a girl. A race car bed would be in his room and pretty princess decorations would bring life to hers. And instead of talking to them over the phone or skype, I'll be tucking them into bed, kissing them good night. This dream drives my forward motion. This dream is my unstoppable force. The pain of leaving them is my unmovable object. This is part of the secret to my invincibility.

True Stories


-In the 7th Month of Not Seeing My Son-


There are those moments where I go out to enjoy the simplicities of life. Or try to at least. I'll go out somewhere or write in someplace I haven't written before. The main goal is to take in the new atmosphere and just get away from the pressures that I experience. And while getting away i'll see something that will bring me right back to what plays on my emotions the most. I'll give you an example. Once I was out at the museum of natural history and while in line I saw a father picking up his son. The boy was about the same height as my son. Maybe even the same weight. They were smiling  and laughing at each other. They had looked more like best friends. I just stood there in a crowded line, watching them. I didn't pay attention to the noise surrounding me or even the woman that I was with. I only thought about my son. I thought about how much he'd enjoying being at this museum with me. I thought about the last time I picked him up or saw his smile. A smirk came to my face as I imagined his goofy, high pitched 3 year old laugh. And then I heard it! Or at least I thought I did. I looked to the left and saw a little kid walking by a stroller. He wasn't my son either. None of the children in the museum were my son. And all I could think about was WHERE IS MY SON! Anger and panic started searching through me as I scanned every light skinned, high pitched 3 year old thinking, WHERE IS MY SON! My date couldn't understand it. No one else could because know one close to me was going through it. I wanted to stop what I was doing and drive down to where he was last to comb the city again, though I knew that wouldn't get me anywhere. I started breathing slowly to calm myself down. I started thinking of the dinosaur exhibit to distract my tears. I closed my eyes and remembered to hold my composure. Things weren't were I needed or wanted them to be but they were getting there. Things were falling into place and I needed to not do anything impulsive to disrupt that. If I really wanted to see my son, then I would need to calm down. Rushing in head first in situations like these, almost always demonizes the father in the eyes of the courts. I wasn't going to allow that to happen to me. The line moved forward and I continued on with my date.


Many of my writing sessions occurred in Panera. That's actually where I met J. I would have an hour lunch break like many working individuals. In that hour I'd escape from whatever was bothering me or, quite the opposite, I'd connect with what actually was bothering me. I only had an hour though. In that small time frame I was locked into my writing. It was rare for me to ever see of feel any type of distraction that would alter my objective. J was one of those distractions of course. Yet another distraction were many of the children and families at play that came into Panera. At first, when I saw the families I became nostalgic of the family that I once had, between my daughter, her mother and myself. I would remember our outings. I'd recall the laughs that we shared or the innocent moments that only a child can provide. It did hurt. And for the record losing a family is a horrible pain that I wish on no man. The urge that I felt to write in Panera made the pain worth endearing. In time, my reoccurring woes with my personal issues died down. I was happy to see these families and was encouraged to someday have one of my own again. I never wanted to believe that just because I went through one bad experience that all of my future experiences would end in heartache. These families were living proof that some stories have good endings or, promising beginnings. Even with my built up admiration for these families, I should have known that I was flirting on a fine line with my own sensitivities. On one particular day I was writing as usual. I had shut out the noise of the Panera, filled with a subway like rush hour. It was just me and the iPad. As usual, the words flowed from my fingertips as if someone, greater than me, were telling them to me. A child accidentally, bumped my table and shook the empty salad bowl. I smirked at the boy and gave his mother my "it's no big deal" wave. His interruption reminded me to look at my watch. Ten minutes were left in my break. It was time to get back. I had a habit of losing track of time when I wrote. The nice, yet awkward looking girl that works there, took my tray before I exited. A man wearing a tan coat exited in front of me. In the sway of the glass doors I heard a cry. A familiar cry. A cry that sent a chill down my spine almost like my daughters. I instantly thought, "Niyah"? A midst all the noise of the crowded restaurant I heard the cry again. And it sounded exactly like my daughter's. I stormed through the glass door like a lineman going through sled tackles. I'm sure that people were staring at me, but I had to see who was generating that cry. My heart started pounding. All I could think of was, "Is she here? Why is my daughter in NY?". The sound then nestled in my left ear like the ocean in a sea shell. I panicked. Every ounce of my body scouted for its location. It came in again calling me towards the front of the store. I lightly jogged to the front of the Panera, excusing myself to suited men lounging about. I made a left turn to discover if it was my daughter or not? What I saw left me puzzled. A small white child was in a parked car with her mother. She was fussy like most little girls can be, like my daughter was as an infant. My "fussy fuss" I'd call her. Her cries must have managed to find their way pass the 1/2 down windows. I don't know how the cry managed to reach me on the inside. I could have sworn that it was my daughter's. I had experienced a few moments like this in Panera, where I simply reacted in a head jerk like an alert guard dog. But this was different. It felt so real. It felt like I was going to get to hold my daughter. It felt like she was in trouble and I was going coming to the rescue. Except, it wasn't any of that. It was more like a mirage in my mind. A tormented decision that played an evil trick on me. I remembered sitting in my car and driving back to the office that day. Before I resumed my work, and before I listened to any music, I bowed my head and prayed.


*If you are near your children, hold them and tell them you love them. If you have difficulty seeing your children for whatever circumstance, fight to see them. Fight to be there dad. They are worth it. You are worth it. Don't let anyone interfere with loving your children. I know deep down inside it will hurt to combat with someone that you created a life with, but all and all it has to be done. Tell your children how important they are. Take them out with you. Be proud of them. Children are some of the greatest joys of life that can ever happen to us. Make sure they know that. (And read them a bed time story)


A photo of a King Lear Monument taken by Undrtheskysoblue

King Lear was a King who went mad


J Series: The End


J Series: The End

The Ending I'd Rather Not Write


This the part of the story where our past gets the best of us. This is the part where the thought of whatever we had joins the forgotten abyss. I can hear life playing a piano riff in the background as we grow farther and farther apart. Years pass by before we run into each other again and I'll vaguely remember you. Your eyes will remind me of something that I once felt but I won't remember why. The emotion I will feel will be feint, yet terrifying to me. The both of us would have moved on to the lives that we always desired. You'll ascend into your beliefs whereas I will change the world as we know it. We are what we are for a reason. And think that you can agree that we become what we become for a reason. In this ending our fears of each other truly get the best of us. The happily ever after that is told to us in our youth becomes just a fairy tale. And I say that not necessarily because we will never be happier with other people, but I cannot say with confidence that we will be at our happiest. In this ending, in this ultimate conclusion, the "what we could have been", is a question forever embedded in eternity. Unfortunately, we'll never know. The thoughts, energies, and intellect that we could have acquired from each other becomes lost endeavors and story lines that I'll create in the near future. I don't know if we are meant to be together. But I do know that we will run into each other again. So far I have always been right. For our sake, I hope this ending is wrong. 


The Ending I'd Rather Write


I believe that Love is Love and I believe that destiny is destiny. I do not believe that things do not happen for a reason. We felt what we felt for a reason greater than us. I don't know if we are meant to be together. Initially, I did feel that way but other people have entered my life. They made me feel.....appreciated. They made me feel like I can trust them, which is a lot coming from me. They haven't made me feel like you did, but I did feel something. This is the ending where I have some sort of relationship with you. In this ending I see you clearly. We are smiling and laughing about something. I can imagine you giving me that intriguing stare of yours and something inside me smiles. And I can't lie, in this ending you matter to me. Your concerns and issues are mine. Your happiness is one of my top priorities. In this version of the story we do share a deep connection, that is unlike anything I have ever experienced. I am your protector at my core. I see us emitting an energy into the world that is unseen. People smile just from being near us. People are motivated to do more just by talking to us. Whatever we become together in this ending, it is something beyond the normal plane of existence. Life itself just seems happier. Well let me be more accurate, in both endings life seems happy but in this outcome life seems to be at its' happiest. Almost as if it reaches its fullest potential. Not to let my dreamy imagination take over, but I see us all over the world. In each place we touch we touch the lives of others, while taking in everything that is them. What if you could understand life itself? In my vision of this ending we ascend far pass what we could ever imagine. This ending feels more accurate than the prior. It feels more true. If there is anything you know or knew about me it was that I never deny myself what I feel. I channel my emotions. In this image of us smiling together, something feels right. To be honest I'm happier just thinking about it. 

    This letter J provided by:  JulienKraakman


This letter J provided by: JulienKraakman


J Series: Conclusion


J Series: Conclusion

It wasn't hard to write the J Series at all. Every post came from a sincere place and emotion. For instance, many people loved my April Hughes story, yet I spent more time finding the correct image to match the story than actually writing it. There was nothing for me to make up. I literally just wrote down my experience. Rome played on my imaginative elements of myself and J, and how amazing I thought we would be together.  The Black Dress post actually started out as a dream. I wrote the dream down, and promised to come back to it for minor touch ups, but I spent so much time writing 10,000 I Love You's that I forgot the dream. But I remembered the emotion of what I felt for this woman. In that emotion I was able to create Black Dress. I imagined J in a black dress and painted the story from there. Invincible was the only piece that I had an actual hard time writing because of the topic being discussed. I poured my heart out into this until there was nothing left.

 What surprised me the most from this collection of work was the reaction that I got. The positive feedback has been overwhelming. People told me that they loved my work. I was advised to make some pieces into plays. I was told that people wanted to buy hard copies. Most importantly, I was told again and again and again, that it inspired people to write. J was such a significant woman to me because she responded to a much older piece of mine in a poetic form. She told me that I inspired her to write and not only did she do a great job, but what she wrote made me want to write to her and only her forever. The surge of words that I normally felt in my head ran 10 times faster than usual and everything that I touched or saw became ordained in positive feelings. That doesn't just happen. In a sense the J Series was my attempt to have that back into my life. And if for whatever grand scheme she is not meant to be back in my life then at least I can say that other people were affected. People who didn't enjoy reading, would tell me how they loved reading my pieces. Women who had been abused told me how much April Hughes meant to them. The artists in manifesto were able to connect to myself and readers going through similar emotions. Many women reacted to Him Understanding Her, in such a strong sense that I was asked to speak with boyfriends lol. I would have to say that my most heart felt accomplishment was from the Ventriloquist Series in the Poem dedicated to R. I won't even tell you what was said I'll let you read it for yourself at the bottom. The energy placed into this series was flipped 10 fold and I love it. This Series opened opportunities for me and most of all other people. That is what makes it so special. That is how you know this work was genuine. I'm happy to say that I followed through with it.

If J does ever come back into my life maybe I'll resurrect the J Series as a mini series alongside the King Series. But so much has been happening that I can truly see that God has a plan for me. I've been meeting people that write for this company and screen right here and there, while getting requests to write here and there. I was told to never stop writing, so I haven't stopped. And God keeps giving me different and newer venues to write in. Literally, if it's not one thing it's another. I'm writing several times, everyday. I feel like my life is changing. I already know that by the end of this year my life will be in a different place. All I am doing is following what God is telling me and experiencing his glory. Sorry to get too preachy, this all just feels so amazing. It's like one moment I'm looking down at a key board and typing and then the next, I'm looking up at all these people applauding. People have taken time out of their busy days to send me page long messages of how talented of a writer I am. That is surreal to me. In closing, I want to thank everyone for reading, enjoying, and connecting to the J Series. I'll never stop writing. The King Series is up next. 

This is an email that I got from @soul_cypher pertaining to the Ventriloquist posts that we teamed up on.  This make everything worth it. 

king Series. First


J Series: Ventriloquist R


J Series: Ventriloquist R

Distance only distills our filtered emotions

You are my core

The order to my corruption

And the focus upon my disruptions

Finish my thoughts like you usually do

Symphonize my soul like you musically do

I refuse to be without my muse

I cannot accept that we aren't worth accepting

It's just so hard to love while forgetting

My past has crippled me enough to wheel my self to your doorstep

I want to rush the first step but my feet haven't hit the floor yet

But in my mind where walking into a jazz club

A fur scarf rests across your shoulders

Where're in the 70's where love and music have taken over

A time before rap existed

Where I could wrap you around my arm

And not be embarrassed by male critics

But that was a dream

Now I only hope to be a man by any means

But your love necessary

What we are is legendary

This is life on a ledge served with dairy

Cause you are the best thing I've ever had

Yet the only thing I've never known

We find each other alone

Afraid that someone like you even exists

Too many times I've searched for soil and found bricks

And I survived by building up a wall

That you've somehow

Climbed over

I find cover

Cause to be honest I'm afraid that we found each other

I'm scared of not being the being that you need to be with

Afraid that these bricks can't be your defense

And I'm afraid that the man I've been isn't the man that you should sleep with

So opposed to letting you share yourself

Ill tell you take care of yourself

Ill help you to prepare yourself

For the idea

That even thought we're perfect it isnt worth it

You deserve so much but I can afford so little

And a woman of your grace should never meet in the middle

My Dilemma

I want you

But don't know what to tell you

Cause I'm afraid to tell you

That our heads have tailed you

And until I can flip it back

I've failed you



This letter J is provided by: ipetk


J Series: Ventriloquist J


J Series: Ventriloquist J

What's understood ain't gotta be explained

But since there's a disconnect

Allow me to lay it plain

There's a difference in the way you

Say my name

And the way you touch me

When we are reaching different plains

Something genuine deep seated in my attraction

Which makes me question why you had such a reaction

To my challenge of blunt and raw

Affection and sexual temptation

You came across like you needed no explanation

Free reign for me to go about my business

Until you flipped the script

Like a film director with no direction

What is this?

I spoke my mind

Because you peaked my curiosity

But I gave you the wrong impression


So before I strike the match

Against this tinder box and all

Let me light the flame again so

You can recall

I purposely stayed far from the subject of sexuality

Because I was so focused on your regality

Yet the reality because somewhat

Of a fallacy

Because you misinterpreted

My Interested dose of honesty

You admired me for my rawness usually.

but you spoke my words back and then started accusing me

what's confusing me is the duality of my feelings

Because I'm kneeling and revealing

Yet you want no parts of yielding your true feelings

Face to face from place to place

We've come and gone

And I'm

Pissed because your voice still

Rings like lyrics from My favorite song

You said two type of men you usually come across

Neither type am I

So my approval is not what I'm


I'd much rather

Take delight in the thought

That you are feeling me

Honestly truthfully madly and deeply

Tell me on a rainy day "you're the one for me"

Apologies explanations and confusion aside

I wanna get a text from you that

"fuck the bullshit, I'm

Down to ride"

You can be my Bonnie

I'll be Clyde

Let's rob the world blind every night

Then press rewind.


This letter J is provided by: meshramjatin


J Series: Manifesto


J Series: Manifesto

Daley Ft. Marsha Ambrosia- Alone Together

Daley is a new artist that has impressed me. Honestly, I listened to this song 7 times back to back the first time I heard it. Alone together speaks about someone who feels for someone, and doesn't want to not be with them. He rather be with her than have to face they world alone. And the two can be alone together. This is beautifully put. Artistry within lyrics. Not to mention the vocal performance will grab your attention. This is one of my new favorite songs. I recommend after watching this that you youtube his "Pretty wings" cover. The boy got talent.


Luke James - I want you (Live)

Another new artist of mine with raw talent. He is committed to his music. A passionate artist goes far with me. In this song, more importantly, in this live performance, he is really singing his heart out. Even if you do not like the song you'll probably continue watching. This song is EXACTLY how I feel. No bull shit. I know who I want to be with and don't even see other women. I'm aware that they are there but my mind is so preoccupied elsewhere that getting a number/ getting to know them is of no interest to me.


Avant- Human

If I get too in-depth with this song it will give away a lot of what I'm going through. Avant always has that perfect hit that speaks to you. Human speaks about forgiveness. Forgiving someone and being forgiven. We all make mistakes in life. Understanding that helps us to forgive others. Personally, I have forgiven many people throughout my life behind this pretense. I hope forgiveness can be applied to me within the same light. After all I'm only human.


Al Green- Simply Beautiful

Love is love. Love is a beautiful thing. This song speaks on the small points of sharing love with someone that are beautiful. I don't believe that there is anything wrong with love or expressing it. Affection is a natural occurrence that should never be suppressed. Don't get me wrong completely slobbering someone down in public is not sexy at all (sorry Penn Station, I was young don't judge me), but you should make the woman that you are with feel like she's yours. Kiss her. Hold her. Smack her ass a little lol. Ok don't let me get you in trouble.


Miguel- Adorn Live

I am an enthusiast for live demonstrations of talent. This song by itself is amazing, and actually one of Miguel's more mature songs on the album. Sometimes women can make loving them difficult. Opposed to just allowing something to happen they fight it. I think many people can relate to this.


Miguel- Pussy is Mine

I love this song because it speaks to the inner taboos of men. It really addresses a deep insecurity that lies in us. No guy wants to be the second best concerning a woman's sex life. Don't get me wrong there are those men that don't really care and are happy to just get some anyway. But when you have feelings for someone, being second is not an option. This song also hints at a deeper taboo within men that isn't commonly spoken about. That taboo is the realization that you don't want another man to be with the woman that you have feelings for. The idea of another man spending time with her is unsettling. The notion of another man being with her intimately can drive a man insane. This song touches on that inversely. Don't fault men too much on this lol. I'm certain that women might feel this way as well. This performance is interesting to say the least.


Al Green - Here I am (Live on Soul Train)

This is one of my favorite all time performances. First off, this is classic non-lip synced Soul Train. This was the equivalent of MTV unplugged for the generation before mine. People sung and celebrated with no restriction. And for that first time that celebration could be shared with someone who was just watching the performance from home. My generation has to wait for an award show to see something this good. Back to the song. This song is an explosion of love. All the man wants is for this woman to be with him. He already loves her. He already wants her. He already wants to be her everything. She just has to take him.


Musiq- Who Knows

You don't know where life or love can take you. You just have to let yourself go and lose yourself in each other. Or maybe even find yourself. I believe that everyone comes into our life for a reason. And we can take so much from everyone. If we can connect to anyone then that in itself is important. In my opinion it should be appreciated. I meet many women that I am only physically attracted to. If my mind can be sparked then I take the person that sparked it serious.


Bj  the Chicago Kid - Good Luv'n (I love good remakes)

I'm a sucker for a good remake and a new artist. Making love is another expression of love. "Giving yourself to me, can never be wrong if the love is true". This lyric falls into my belief of not having casual sex. Most people disagree with me. I am well aware of that. But I just rather be involved with someone that I feel something with. I have done the whole casual thing and it just wasn't for me. After giving this song a listen comment with the original artist name. I can't remember it off the top of my head.


Justin Timberlake- End of Time

This is definitely a classic. The HBO live concert Performance is better. Unfortunately, it was taken down from youtube. What more can I say this is my favorite Justin Timberlake song to date. Its self explanatory and is probably thee most soothing out of all the songs. This is one of those songs that you put on repeat for like four or five plays.   Love is all you need in this life.


Teddy Pendergrass- Lady (He kills this. You have to love live performances)

In my opinion this is the ultimate declaration of what a woman means to a man. Women complete us. And to an extent we naturally serve them and they serve us. I don't care what anyone says, the feeling that you get as a man from providing for or protecting a woman that you love is fulfilling. It makes it all worth it. A woman appreciating that action drives us to do it again, except better. A man could have everything in the world but he would still crave a woman.


Luther Vandross - A House is Not a Home (Live)

Honestly, this is one of the best Vocal performances anyone could ever see. There is no way you won't have goosebumps while watching this. When you feel strongly for someone, you naturally want those feelings to be mutual. The sheer thought of those feelings not being mutual is surreal. It's too damaging to even comprehend at the moment. In relationships, or whatever, there are fights and disagreements. Will you still love me after all of it? That's a fair question.


Teddy Pendergras- When Somebody Loves You Back

There is no way you can't feel some kind of happiness hearing this song. I respect when a song has simple yet affective lyrics. "It feels so good, loving somebody. And somebody loves you back". That's true lol. It's an incredible feeling. This performance is a perfect testament to that. He sells that emotion. And please don't make any molly jokes in reference to how sweaty he is. Be considerate. He's a tall guy on a stage with a billion lights beaming on him. Anyone would sweat in those conditions.


Luke James- Hurt Me

I put this up here because we have all been there. When I heard this song, I was reminded of a place that I never want to be again. I thank God for the refresh. Sometimes the pain can be so intense for so long that we grow used to it. It becomes a destructive cycle that some of us never leave. If you find yourself in a situation where the person that you are with brings out the worst in you, then you're probably there.  Love can entangle us so deep into someone that sometimes when we unravel we don't even know who we are anymore. We don't even know what we like to do. It's insane. Personally, I was in a relationship like this for three years, but that's a different story.


Al Green - Jesus Is Waiting (Live on Soul Train)

This song truly shows a different era of R&B music. This is actually a gospel song, but back in that era Gospel and R&B were still blended more so in music. How many artists in today's day and age can have a gospel song on their album and be able to perform on it this plateau. It wouldn't happen. A televised gospel song by a hit R&B artist? NNNNAAAAHHH (in my chief keef voice). In all seriousness this performance moved me when I first heard it. No tears or nothing but it described exactly how I felt. At the core of us is our strength. When we are weak we need something to restore us. Personally, God restores me.



BJ the Chicago Kid Ft. Kendrick Lamar - His Pain

This post ends foremost with God and the appreciation of what we have everyday. We are blessed far beyond what we deserve. This song is perfect for that. There were points in my life where I had wondered why certain friends of mind were dead and men like my oldest brother were alive. Then at 25 I realized that my brother was still here and I needed to be grateful for that. I forgave him for all that he did. I walked into the rehab clinic that he was staying in at the time to see him. And my brother broke down into tears. I might have been his blessing that day. From that point he slowly started to improve. He had stopped drinking for a while. He genuinely tried harder at succeeding in life. His biggest improvement of all was with his kids. He actually tried to be more a father towards them. This may sound like nothing to you but this is a HUGE step for him. In a way, I got my brother back. I got the relationship that I always wanted with him.

They say that God works in mysterious ways but to those who know him, its really not so mysterious. It's through love. He'll make a way for you when there is no way. I am a testament to that. In this song Kendrick Lamar repeats "I don't know why he keeps blessing me". It's because he loves us enough to never stop. And in turn we should love each other. I don't know about you but I've been through enough pain. I'd rather move forward in a more positive direction.


This letter J is provided by: roz-indelebile


J Series: A Gentleman's Quotes


J Series: A Gentleman's Quotes

Give your daughter an idea of the man she should be with by being that man.


Tell your son you love him. Never let a boy question whether his father loves him or not.


Open a door because it is the nice thing to do. Being courteous is your favor to the world. A needed favor.


Never do anything kind with the intent of it being returned. Expectation is a selfish ideal; literally, it is what YOU expect. The effort placed from your deed might be more needed elsewhere.


In my personal opinion, your attire is not as important as your attitude or mindset. You have to look the part but you also have to be the part. Does that make sense?


Constantly improve who you are.


A Gentleman pays attention to small details, especially those of his wife. And if you feel that only your wife deserves this effort, then think of this; you'll have to practice on your girl friend.


In no instance should a Gentleman ever have to call a woman out of her name. And if you strongly feel the need to then you should separate yourself from that woman. We don't step out of character.


Own a suit. And in case you didn't read that correctly. BUY A DAMN SUIT. You should own several. Also get your suits tailored to your fitting. When you get a bit fancier invest in ties, bow ties, and cuff links.


Appreciate a good watch.


Pay attention to your crowd and atmosphere. There is a time and a place for everything.


Avoid Drama. A better setting typically yields a better result.


Do not judge others for the way they live. There is nothing chivalrous about putting someone down or not trying to understand them.


Gentlemen are peaceful and kind.


Chivalry is not merely a practice towards women, it is a practice towards everyone. It begins with respect and is maintained through empathy.


Love is the most important thing in this world. Never do something without it.


When you really think about it there is nothing to be upset about. Start smiling. Then spread that smile.


Flowers can go a long way.


If you don't have the time for something you want then make the time.


Learning is a part of life. Try your best to make your trials and errors your own. No one should have to pay for your mistakes.


If you ever hurt anyone be there for them. Never be the person that hurt you.


Your woman should never go through a troubling time by herself. Yet in retrospect, if she needs space give it to her.


Never abandon a friend.


Give all of who you are to someone that deserves it.


Over investing your chivalry into someone who doesn't appreciate it, will only result in you hurting yourself.


Be thankful for all that you have.


Men are insanely territorial yet afraid of expression. Never become so wrapped up in your pride that you can't tell your wife or girl friend that you love them in public.


Romance is in every man. Its just a matter of effort.


All a man has is his word. All he can truly give is his strength. He'll either give it for the woman he loves or submit it to the woman he loves. He'll never use it against her.


Listen to positive music. It goes along way. I'm not saying don't listen to other music. I'm saying don't alway listen to other music.


This may be a challenge but try to understand women.


Women do many things out of "Comfort". Thus you should keep your woman comfortable, in all aspects of life.


As a man; do not allow anyone to walk all over you.


Help your fellow man to be a gentleman, but don't judge him if he's not.


The more passionate the sex the more she'll enjoy it. Unless she just wants that aggression. In that case give her both.


No woman wants to feel like a piece of meat. But there are times where your girl friend/wife might want to feel like your slut. (Because she yours and your hers there is a love background to it)


In chivalry, violence is not the answer to violence, and hate is not the answer to hate. Love is the only answer.


*Something to think about: As the days pass by and our lives go on, and eventually end in this plane. How will you be remembered?




J Series: Him Understanding Her


J Series: Him Understanding Her

A Man's Friends:

She doesn't mind me hanging out with my friends but she wants to know that I 'm thinking about her. She'll look forward to a text from me because she's thinking about me. It's not like she wants me to obsess over her but she just needs to know that she's loved. She needs to be comfortable. Her ex's may have placed her in many situations where she was uncomfortable. Thus lowering her tolerance. Her defenses may no longer allow her to be so unsure/insecure for that same duration of time. Because too long means I'm probably/possibly doing something wrong. Regardless of weather I am or not. In her mind it's not what I'm doing it's what I'm not doing. I'm not telling her that she's on my mind. It may not be my fault that she is like this, but If I love her, than it is my responsibility to help correct this. I'm not saying that as  man you should tolerate any ones bull shit, but in order to fix a problem, you must understand it.

She says that she doesn't mind me having female friends but she secretly does because she knows that too many women secretly make plans to take other women's men. For whatever reason unavailable men become far too appealing to available women. Or even if they don't aim to "have me" so to say, the topic of discussion in my woman's mind is still "what is so special about my man, that she NEEDS to talk to him? Or WANTS to hang out with him"? To a woman's emotions that can be perceived as a threat or inappropriate. And since it's inappropriate, she then leaves it up to me to check the situation because I am the man. If I do not check it then I am disregarding her feelings or emotions, thus not making her feel like she is the head female in my life. You have to analyze a woman's emotions to really understand how and why she feels negatively towards certain events.

A Man's Initiative:

She hints to ideas because she wants me to want to do these things with her on my own. If she tells me what to do, then in her mind I wasn't interested in doing them with her. Even if I actually am. My initiative shows her exactly how invested in her I am. My advice to men is too pay attention to a woman's details so you can be more spontaneous/creative with what you initiate. Do you want to take your girl to the movies? Or to the spa because you notice she's been stressed lately? Just read her. My advice to women is to assert yourselves a bit more. You will get exactly what you want or exactly what you need. Or listen to a man's words and read him as you expect him to read you. I believe that everyone's actions translates the truth. More importantly, "why" they perform the action. My ex used to think that because I didn't propose to her that I didn't want to make the long term commitment. Yet she wasn't there with me as I stole sales or outsmarted people at a commissions paying job to help save up for a ring. I would come home to complaints of why I was so tired. She never truly asked "why" I was so tired.

In Her Head vs Your Head:

Women have a way of wanting a certain thing a certain way. Think about it. Propose to a woman standing up. Don't kneel. I repeat do not kneel. It would displease her. Because the key act in proposing is the submission of your pride to her. It would ruin the image in her mind of a proposal. There are so many women who have mothers that are unmarried. In essence a man's proposal to her has to be sufficient enough to fulfill two dreams. Her's and her mothers. It's important to analyze your actions in their entirety. I also, know a lot of couples in another scenario so let me briefly touch on this before the transition. A man can tell a woman until she's blue in the face "you are the only one", but until the two have the official discussion about exclusivity (which he has to initiate), then what he said is flattering but not official. Official gives her comfort. Flattery gets her mind off the issue for a moment. My advice to men is to understand how SHE views something. If a romantic evening involves rose petals on a bed, then carnations won't do. Detail with a woman is important.

Us Against the World:

She wants us to be private. This too comes with a catch. She wants everyone to know that I am her's and she's mine. She just doesn't want them to know exactly what is happening between us. To an extent we both want that. We only need everyone else for a few key things. Men want bragging rights to their friends and all men. And in a sense women want the jealousy of other women. Well lets not say that they "want" the jealousy. Maybe that is too strong a word. Lets say that they enjoy it. It is close but not the same. Trust and believe though, that if an issue arises all of the woman's friends will know the business and what happened lol. More importantly, they will all have input on the situation.

The enjoyment of our privacy plays on society to an extent. It plays on the friendship that we have and how tight we are. It makes the inside jokes that much more enjoyable, because in a world full of billions of people we have each other.

Challenge for a Reason:

She wants to challenge me. It's a test. She doesn't want me to let her walk all over me because if she can then so can another man/person that threatens her. She needs to feel protected. And if she's unsure of my capabilities then I am certain to be tested.


She needs to know that she can be herself with me so she'll open up. She'll talk to me about nothing like I'm one of her friends, because to her once I become her man I become her friend, her protector, and in a sense her lead on things. Someone that she can be comfortable with in all elements of who she is. It's a roll with many rolls in it, that sometimes we as men aren't ready to fulfill. She needs to be able to cry on my shoulder, yet she sometimes needs me to help her come to her senses.


Security is a large sense of comfort for anyone. Think about how people have made a business out of this. We hire security, install security systems, encrypt websites, create passwords. Security gives us our privacy while protecting us. To a woman her man is this security to an extent. She needs to feel like he can protect and defend her. It's not like we need to win every fight, but we do need to check anyone that disrespects her emotions or stance on things. Sometimes a man may even need to protect a woman from doubt. As long as she knows that she has you by her side to protect her then you're role in her life is sacred. This is a deeper sense of trust that works both ways. There's nothing like having your woman defend you at your weakest. Ladies it's not like your man expects you to fight his battles, but the idea of you wanting us to be safe is refreshing. Where else do men get that in life? What other element of life says to a man, "I want you to be ok"? It never happens. I'll conclude this segment by saying this, the world we live in can be cruel. It can be frequently overwhelming. When it comes to other people, what matters largely is who is there. Who cared enough to help you. Who cared enough to defend you. And who was there when you were at your weakest. We all need that person and should cherish them. My advice to women, don't put your man in a situation that he will lose. And if for whatever reason he does lose, repair his ego. Attacking it, only makes him distant with you. My advice to my fellow man, is to be the man that she needs. If you are already that man, than be better.

The Man She Needs:

Women need to feel like they have a responsible man because they entrust them. A woman gives you her body thus you are responsible for what goes in it and what comes out of it. LIKE A BABY. Have her child, then she's going to immediately look at you like....."well what are you going to do", because in her mind you are the one responsible. Think about it, the father could be a young father, essentially not a man yet, and he could be doing things with his friends that the mother calls into question. I guarantee you, one thing that will come out of her mouth is..."Oh you can do (whatever) but you can't do (whatever) for your child". It's an attack towards a man and his responsibility that she entrusts him with.

Her Indirect Directness

And since women communicate indirectly with many things including her emotions, sometimes she just wants sex. She says it in her own way. So she might rub her butt on you in the middle of the night. She might argue with you when she see's you. It's a challenge. Women love a man who can be a man. In that particular instance she wants a man to please her. So instead of allowing us as men to be all calm, she'll excite us a bit. It's cute when you think about it objectively. Women communicate indirectly. Thus there is an emotion underlying within the context of what she is saying/doing. She may pull away because she wants me to come close. She may attempt to make me jealous because she wants to feel wanted. Or she may assert her accomplishments, because she needs to feel respected. What I understand about women is that they need comfort. And, yet if you ever encounter a woman whose still on edge from whatever (bad dates, frustration with men etc...), even too much comfort is uncomfortable. Men typically become the targets of these emotions. Just think about all the single women out there, that bash men, yet are waiting for the right one. That's like me saying all women are bitches and then wondering why, I can't find a woman. Women are the up and down. The I love you and I hate you. Men avoid love in today's day and age. But women don't necessarily avoid it, they resist it. Yet too often throw their bodies out to get it. Women who are more mature either know better or grow intolerant of the cycle. The cycle only stops though when they learn to stop it. Keep in mind though, some women are just scorned. These women usually need the most love, yet resist it more than ever. (Sorry for jumping topics)

When She's Hurt:

Women express their hurt in many ways that are unclear to men. The most obvious indicator is silence or distance. A woman's silence is like a waiting symbol. She's waiting for you to bring up a conversation. Waiting for you to apologize. Waiting for you to address the issue. Or she's flat out making you suffer a little. I don't exactly agree with it. But I understand it. Or a woman could be hurt about something but not want create tension so she won't speak about it. Actually lets not say hurt. Lets say that something will cause suspicion within her. And it can be/probably will be the smallest thing, that we men, don't even notice. Like coming in the house, smelling like another woman's perfume. Or having a strand of hair on you that isn't the same color as your girls. These all raise up questions of, "what is that" and "why is it there". From there a woman will question it and give you something I like to call the bull shit test lol. She will wait for whatever answer you have to give. It can be the truth, but if she thinks it's bull shit, then it's bull shit. Whether you like it or not, you should be ready for this issue to come back up in an argument. For instance, the argument can be about you not calling her two nights in a row. Somewhere within that argument you will hear, "and why did you come in the house smelling like that perfume a few days ago"!

My advice to men: We all can get a little lost in our emotions. Don't tolerate disrespect, but allow a woman to have her moment.

A woman that you have hurt or a woman that feels like you hurt her will do things to hurt you back. It's petty and childish in a sense but it's a reaction lol. She'll do little things. She'll attack your ego. Or if you think about it on a larger scale some women will use your children against you. What can I say? Hurt people hurt people.

Deeper Appreciation:

Pay attention to a woman's details. The closer you pay attention to her the more you can see all of the little things that she'll do to please you. We men have a way of only noticing a sexual alteration. This may be one of many changes that a woman has made to please you. You may not like the color green and a woman might remove the green outfits from her wardrobe. You could not like the way a woman says something and she'll change up her tone/accent a little bit to accommodate you. She'll get her hair done and look forward to you noticing. Everyone needs to feel appreciated. With women a man just needs to take notice and appreciate her effort. I went to visit a woman late in the day, a few months ago, and I noticed how she did her hair and cleaned up her apartment. She even went as far as putting my favorite scented candle in the room. I didn't even know she knew that. In all reality it probably took her hours to do all that she did. And I appreciated that. Hours of preparation just for me..... I'm not some celebrity or the POTUS. I'm just me.


What I understand about women is that many elements of them are based out of comfort and love. All relationships need trust in order to function but comfort is needed for the maintenance of that trust. Consistency maintains comfort. It's not rocket science it's love. It's appreciation. I don't believe it takes much to please a woman (the correct woman), but it does take effort. Side bar: What I also understand is that too many women do not understand men. Ladies I'll help you out.....it all starts and ends with respect.


*There is a deeper point to this post. I'm actually writing this to reflect that when it comes to the woman that I want, none of this truly matters to me. I'm eager to learn her. I have an understanding of how women act, but I want to know her specifics. I'd rather know what makes her feel appreciated or what makes her feel happy than have a general overview of women. Hopefully, I'll be able to write this later on, in the specified manner that I desire.

*This work was also not written to claim that women need men for anything. This is merely something written to expose expectations and comforts that we expect from one another.

*Also, I purposely did not go too in depth on a few topics, like sex, or physical elements. Sex is everywhere to me. It's on overkill at the moment. Maybe one day it will continue this post and bring it up, but not now.


This letter J provided by: waven15


J Series: Strength


J Series: Strength

Rules of my Strength:

  1. If you are strong enough to help than you should
  2. Don't just pray for me. Do something to help me
  3. Who I am is manifested in what I believe. I believe in myself and something far greater.
  4. Strength is the award of pain.
  5. You are strong for yourself and your preservation, but mostly you are strong for those that are weaker.
  6. As men we are taught to reject our feelings. I feel stronger the more I embrace them.
  7. Passion and strength go hand in hand. It is almost the make up of integrity
  8. You will never know true strength until you have forgiven someone that had wronged you.
  9. Your body is your temple. Work on it. Shape it. Be proud of it.
  10. The more effort you put into you, the more confidence you will build
  11. Never place your confidence within the hands of someone else. That is too much responsibility.
  12. In my opinion, he greatest person you can become is your closest reflection of God.
  13. You see yourself in your head everyday. Become that person
  14. To find your strength never compromise on who you are and what you believe.
  15. The person you choose to be with, or the people you choose to be around, should make you stronger. Never weaker.
  16. Be strong enough to know when you need to submit. Arrogance or over assertiveness will make you more enemies than friends.
  17. People should respect your power, not fear your power.
  18. Every emotion can tie back to strength. It all depends on how you use it.
  19. If you ever lose your strength you can find it at the root of who you are. Your purpose. And your love. Never your hate. Hate is merely aggressive energy. Not necessarily strength. Hatred is more like possession.
  20. Last for now: This is based on a belief in God. It is told that God is in each and every one of us. With that being said, that means that some part of you, no matter how small, is all powerful and invincible. Find that part.

This letter J is provide by: pixel-terrorist


J Series: She Grabbed The Butter Knife


J Series: She Grabbed The Butter Knife

She grabbed the butter knife
With no idea of the man I was
Or whence I came
She grabbed the butter knife

Two strangers with so much in common
Coming from opposite ends of society
Yet somehow drawn together at the middle
I joke
She smirks
"Oh really mr. Tough guy"
"You wanna keep joking"
Her hand reaches to her right
And grabs
A butter knife....

Oh how different we were
If only she had been there when guns were held to my face and stomach
If only she had been there when knives were raised to my throat with intent to harm me
If only she had been there when a lighter version of the cocaine used to keep soldiers fighting in Vietnam kept my 14 year older brother throwing punches at me
If only she had been there when I was held up
The butter knife in her hand weighed less than the brick and chain that I kept under my full size bed as a child
I had knives at ten that posed more of a threat
I had seen guns at 13 that were men's toys
If only she had been there

I knew little of her upbringing
But within context clues I was able to pull together plots
Her defensiveness toward light insults exposes perhaps a sheltered upbringing or interactions within an uppity society that I have often wondered about
Or perhaps she was so protected that her she didn't tolerate playfulness
A previous text of hers referring to stabbing someone as "shank" gave me the inference that the day to day life I had experienced as an adolescent was only seen to her in movies and TV shows
Or so I hypothesized
She was a pretty woman
Earlier discussion revealed that she was the pretty girl
Pretty girls get spoiled and catered to in America
And though she analyzed people for a living her understanding of who I am was, might've only been referenced to in TV shows and text books

My background to her was deciphered by media coverage
As she jokingly grabbed that butter knife I knew that she had no idea what she was doing
And more importantly who she was doing it to
But for the woman who knew much for once she knew very little
And didn't even realize it
Knife in hand, she looked at me
Her eyes rolled slightly and challenged me through her version of feistiness
The uppity version
And before her eyes connected to mine, enchanting as they were
I was already calm

Her eyes tried to reach at the back of my pupils but were unable to phase it's depth
The reflection of her emerald iris brought a smile to my face
I had liked this woman
I had embraced her strength, and courage
She was cute
She was beautiful
As she continued her attempt at intimidation I raised her awareness as to who I am
"You're going to need a lot more than a butter knife"
She smirked at her own ridiculousness
And we laughed


This letter J is provided by: sheryza


J Series: Black Dress


J Series: Black Dress

So many men fantasize about what I have in front of me. So many men wait a lifetime to be in the presence of a woman that completes them. They yearn to find someone that understands how they feel without words. Many of them will never have the pleasure of staring at a woman and having a conversation with just eye contact. How unfortunate they are. And here I have you...In front of me...with that black dress on.

The light steam from the bathroom and small ruffles across your chest make you appear as an exotic flower. Its deep blackness and small sparkles resemble a clear night sky. Soft skin escapes from the grasp of its fitting ends. The light to dark ratio bares the softness of a waning gibbous moon. My eyes stare in amazement; riding the wave of your curves hoping to unravel their mysteries. I can't help but recall all of the places you love me to bite. My lips against the center of your left butt cheek, the small of your back above your tailbone, and every tender spot all the way up to your neck. I went from reading my watch, to reading the Times, to reading you.

I knew that we had to leave. I knew it was important that we made it to this event. You would have wanted me to make the responsible choice for the both of us. But another part of me wanted to rip that dress off of you. I could only imagine seeing your soft chess emerge from its abyss as I slid it down your torso. I could imagine the fabric against my fingers. And before I knew it, images rushed to my mind of what happened the night prior. I remembered how your hands and teeth clung to the sheets as I was inside you. I recalled vivid images of you bent over on the bed. The white glaze that you left on me as I exited you. I remembered the silhouette of the moonlight coating that bubbly ass of yours like a sheet. Your plumpness was as attractive as a forbidden fruit. A fruit that knew I would enjoy it. As you pulled up your pantyhose the fabric mocked me. The same curly hair that watched me like an audience, as I was behind you, was twisting past your shoulders like elegant vines. The dress wrapped tightly around your hips like a black ribbon on a present. I had get it off you.

I placed the newspaper on the living room table. My jacket fell from my shoulders as I stood from the couch. The noise of running water in the sink drowns out the noise of my tapping shoes as I moved closer to you. I had this idea of wrapping my hands around your hips as you washed off that coat of mascara that you applied too heavily. From there followed a full, all out, foreplay assault. I was going to come behind you and slowly kiss on your neck. You were going to smile and tell me to stop. As my teeth scratched you lightly you would bite your lip. Then I would jerk you forward a little bit, causing your hands to fall against the sink, which in turn forced you to bend over. The suggestiveness of how I'm touching you would incline you to arch your back. I'd pull that dress up just enough to spark your imagination. To tease you I'd pull out what you were craving. His head would rub slowly against your lips. Then I'd go slow. Slow enough to make those legs shake. Slow enough for you to feel every inch. That was how the initial idea had played out in my head at least. And don't ask me what happened to your panties or pantyhose. I'm a guy; those details don't matter. I came back from my second level of inception, as you turned off the running water.

Even through the haze I could see you staring at me. You knew I was up to something. The light tapping of my shoes gave away my position. You stepped closer to me, vacating the mystique of the bathroom haze. I halted my pace, hoping that you weren't too aware of my intentions. My disloyal eyes told you the truth. Or maybe it was the jacket that lied on the floor behind me like crime scene evidence. You said, "don't even think about it. We're already running late". You were right. I knew you were...but that cute ass smirk you gave me made me take two more steps forward. My arrogance only confirmed your suspicions of my intent. Like the punk you are you said "baby no we have to go". You took two slow steps backwards knowing that I was going to come after you anyway. My bowtie then found its way to the floor like my suit jacket. Arrogantly I looked you in the eye and said, "What are you talking about". A blush came to your face. You loved how much I wanted you. Even your cute blush turned me on. And if all went according to plan I'd see your ass cheeks blushing in a few minutes. You hated how I could turn you on. You hated can't that I was going this here and now. Like you didn't just spend an hour and a half getting ready to leave. But that another part of you, like that other part of me, wanted to feel me inside you. More importantly, you wanted me to pick you up and put him in you. Your eyes dared to disconnect from mine for a second. They slid down towards the zipper in my pants. There they found a bulge that had been staring at you the entire time. Your black dress had caused all this. I could see your heart race at the sight of it. Apparently, it was having the same affect on you as your black dress did on me. As those pretty eyes of yours rolled back towards my face, they found the veins in my hands protruding; the muscles in my arm bulging, and my chest tightened. I could feel the change of warmth in the room as the heat from your legs contributed. Your heartbeat slowed down for a second as if you were in a trance. As your mind ran with a million ideas of what I was going to do to you, your body auto-piloted itself; forcing you to slowly move backward. In your mind you were replaying what we did last night. What I did and how I did it. The smacking sound that your ass made as I jabbed your uterus like a punching bag. You remembered the numbness that substituted for the feeling in your leg as you slipped deeper into orgasm. Had I not been standing in front of you, you might've touched yourself from the rush. Then sent me naked pictures of the fruits of my labor. But since I was there in front you there was no need to settle for your fingers. The sheer remembrance of who I became when I was in you sent a tingling sensation that shot up your thigh. It forced you to say, "baby no we can't do this", even though the lips between your legs salivated. The pitch and softness from your voice matched the pitch and softness of your moans from the prior night. I knew I had you.

I moved closer. With every step your body desired yet resisted the temptation of what we both wanted to happen. Both sets of your lips wanted me to take them. The scent from below your waist pleased my nostrils like warm honey. Somehow it drew my lips towards your neck. They stalked it like a snake sensing a mouse. My hands preyed on your chest and ass. Your body stood directly in front of me like the stubborn bitch it was and dared me to take it. My hands clamped to your hips like a dogs mouth to a bone. I pulled you in, pressing you into the bulge in my paints. I bit into your neck like a savage Viking. And grabbed your ripe ass deep enough to let my fingers slip into your wetness. Kisses and slutty gropes were personified by heavy exhales and moans that didn't make sense to those inexperienced. Your heart raced behind mine. I allowed my teeth to stab into your neck deeper like spurs into a racehorse, speeding up your heartbeat at the aggression. You returned the favor and dug your nails deep into the back of my shoulders, staining my shirt with inklings of blood. The anger, the aggression, the pain, the pleasure, the way your body screamed, "fuck me!” all became one sexual blur. I pinned you against the wall and dared your body to challenge me one more time. Another whiff of honey made me pause for a second... She was calling out to me. Whispering my name in a language that only I could understand. I growled at the intrigue of my mistress. A soft breath left young lungs. You didn't know what I would do next.

That pain and pleasure that I frequently gave your walls was now surging through your veins like a fiend's addiction. It was the only clue that you had, in the knowing my next move. I then took your hand and placed it on my zipper. Giving you a hint at you was going to receive. You bit into your lip. Your hand analyzed the clue as it went slowly up and down my length. I knew what feeling it would do to you. I knew the size of it would give you an idea of how much it could stretch you. I then made a chess move that you didn't see coming. I moved towards your ear and whispered, "Pull it out". It was cute how your head shook no but your hand rubbed him harder. I whispered in your ear sterner the next time. "Pull it out". You shook your head no, and hummed "Hmm umm". I felt the softness of your curls hit my face in your stubbornness. All the while your hand never lost its grip. I took advantage of your hands forgetfulness and made him swell even more in your palm. The new tightness in your hand turned me on even further. I was going to make you take him out.

My teeth sifted through the muscle fibers under your jaw. Small trembles found their way to your inner thighs. Below, my hand was by the back of your dress squeezing your firm ass like a stress ball. I picked you up by it; accidentally raising you into the clock hanging on the wall. It fell into a 6ft free fall. It hit the floor at the same time that my tip rubbed up against your clit. He was angry with me for not pulling him out then and there. Telling me to make the decision for you. It was a tease to the both of us, too intense for your resistance. The sensation buckled your knees. You gripped my shoulders tighter before losing balance. Your nails then clung to the back of my neck. Those soft legs wrapped around my waist like soft wings at my hips. Your arms swung open with your nails fully extended, scratching into the plaster of the walls. Our aggressive movements against the wall made us look like a live painting. I knew I finally had you. But we were too lost in the moment. Like an idiot I forgot to take off your panties and pantyhose. I dropped you to the floor like a bag of groceries.  Your feet hit the floor in a panic. You were eager for me to get your clothes off, eager for me to stop teasing you. I took my watch off and then impaled my fingers between your panties and waist. You leaned back into the wall for balance, assisting me in removing them. We moved in a sexual frenzy stripping each other like a pit crew in a Nascar race. Socks, a shirt, and a bra went flying. He pressed against the zipper in my pants like an angry inmate. I stepped out of them as if they were on fire. The animal hanging from the slit in my boxers aroused you completely. You stood there looking at me not saying a word. I knew what that look in your eye meant. Finally, it was my turn to get you out of that sacred dress. I took the straps down from your shoulders slowly. I wanted to enjoy this moment more than ever. The impression they left gave density to how truly soft you were. The contrast of the black revealed your beautiful skin. I pulled it down further. Knowing that your supple breast would come next. I envied how the dress could move over your erect nipples more elegantly than I could. As the top of the dress approached the peak of your chest, my heart started pounding against my chest. Then as soon as I was about to see a nipple and enjoy the gifts you were giving to me...THE FUCKIN PHONE RANG!!!

Most of the dress was still on your hips and torso making you appear as a black-scaled mermaid. We looked each other in the eye and made a unanimous unspoken decision to not answer the phone. You were almost undressed. I was ten times more interested in you than going to this fucking banquet. Answering the phone was pointless. But then you remembered.... we had somewhere to be. Actually, we should have been there already. You turned back to me, giving me that "baby I'm so sorry look". I replied verbally to your eye and commanded, "don't". You didn't want to get the phone but you knew whom it could've been. My anger jumped a little as you delivered my devastating news. You swiveled your view back to me and said "Baby, It might be Sandra". I immediately thought "Oh shit! Sandra". To be honest I had forgot that Sandra was waiting on us to pick her up. I didn't say it out loud but in that moment I thought "FUCK SANDRA!". My erection toned down by the aggression stayed. The floor felt your sexual frustration as you stomped toward the phone. You were angry that we were interrupted, angry that we were running late, and angry that you even offered to drive Sandra in the first place. You picked up the phone as if it had said something to insult you and you were grabbing it by the neck. Sandra was a new coworker that you had recently made friends with at the office. It was never imperative to save her phone number in your phone so you had just gotten into the habit of seeing the "412" area code that was associated with her. You exhaled heavily then regretfully slid the talk button on your iPhone. In an angry undertone you began pleading to Sandra, "Hey girl. I'm sorry. We're running a little late. We're about to leave right now". Judging by the tone in your voice, the caller had assumed that you had just been into an argument of some sort. The voice at the other end of the phone replied, "Oh hey Jess its me Cynthia".

The look on your face screamed, "FUCK"!  Cynthia, as we now know wasn't Sandra. She was your other coworker that coincidentally had a similar "412" number, that you also never cared to save. She was also the coworker that you purposely don't answer the phone for because she's dramatic and long-winded. Upset from being caught off guard twice, you began stomping toward the couch where your bra and panties landed. I heard you say "Oh hey Cynthia", out loud, but in your head I knew you actually said, "Wwwwwhhhhyyyyy is she calling me!". You would hate me for saying this out loud but you looked cute, as you were angry. Not to mention the way your butt jiggled as you stormed away gave me a few ideas of what to do with it. Somewhere in YOU making up your mind that WE weren't going to do anything you managed to put your straps back on. No big deal I would just take them off again. That fuckin dress brought me back to its sexual trance. The way your hips moved in it like a pendulum. I became hypnotized in your femininity. Then out of nowhere a bright idea hit me. You were upset and I had something hanging from me that could cheer you up (So in a way you could say that you caused this...again). You kneeled behind the couch to retrieve your bra. Then you arose to find me standing at the opposite side of the couch. Once you noticed my pants were still off you knew exactly what I was up to. I saw your lips silently sound out "N O", but I took less concern in what they were saying and was more turned on by the idea of them sucking me off. I took another step forward. Of course you mouthed "NO" again, but there was a smile underneath it like last time. Naturally, I proceeded, bending my way around the armrest of the bed. Initiating our cat and mouse game.

I was impressed with how you actually tried to manage your phone conversation and the child like chase. Cynthia had begun crying within seconds of the talk and you didn't want to feel guilty by just rushing her off the phone. Your niceness was always something that I admired. I had looked forward to kissing you between your legs and thanking you for it. We chased each other around the couch like two 1st graders. You would fake in one direction and as I matched your pace. All the while you held the same fake friend stance in your conversation. You'd smile at how my fingertips grazed pass your ass as you high stepped, and in the same breath you'd say "oh really girl, I'm so sorry to hear that". Cynthia didn't suspect a thing. You on the other hand knew you couldn't keep this up for too long. Eventually, I was going to get you. You wanted me to. Within a few minutes I caught you. Opposed to sticking to our usual route you tried to get a little fancy and hop over the couch. I caught you by the hips partially bent over. Your ass was poking out a little from the dress. Its thickness reminded me of a luscious peach. Quickly, I sprawled behind like a male horse mounting a female horse during mating season. It turned you on how bad I wanted it. And had you not been on the phone you would've let me have it right there and then. I bent you over enough to see your opening. You poked it out a little more to give me a quick taste. My hand then palmed your left cheek like a basketball and I shimmied him inside you like I was picking a door lock with a big pick. Your tightness resisted me at first, but then I could feel her stretch. She accepted me in but was upset at why I didn't take her sooner. To make it up to her then thrusted her harshly; not allowing her moistness to fully lather me. I heard the yelp in your throat as my pelvis crashed into yours. The sensation forced you to jump. At this rate you knew you couldn't hold the conversation without eventually moaning in Cynthia's ear. You reached your left hand back towards me, in an attempt to push me out of you. You realized that was a mistake when I caught it, and pounded you just as hard because of it. The force behind it caused your curls to bounce like soft springs. Accidentally, we lost our balance. We were standing over the back of a couch after all. As we fell in opposite directions I could see how wide you had become as he fell out of you. I was nowhere near finished. You decided to then give in your weight to the couch and simply roll within its comforts. Your legs were shaking slightly so you couldn't just get up and run. Or maybe you simply didn't want to. I then came around from the back of the couch. I looked down at you and then at my boxers. I can't lie and say that I didn't get a slight ego boost at the creamed stain you left on them. Enough was enough. I took them off completely.

The couch was soft like you were. We had done it here a couple of times but for most of them you were bent over. And those sessions never usually ended where they started. You looked sexy just lying there. Your sweat and the disarray of that black dress made it look more like black lingerie at this point. Your model like legs were crossed, hiding that new Brazilian wax that you just got for me. Your curly hair gave you a nice cushion amongst the armrest. It was like I was staring at a woman from my dream. All I had to do was finish what I started.

Kissing the back of your heel lead to kissing your calf. Kissing your calf lead to kissing your inner knee. That in turn led to your inner thigh. We stood still for a moment as I turned my head towards her. My lips faced hers like two lovers who hadn't seen each other. Like a woman watching her favorite show you couldn't take your eyes off of it. You yearned for what I was going to do to it. Cynthia's small voice ran through the background like a 1930's phone operator. I heard the blades of the ceiling fan cutting through the wind. And I heard your heart beating slowly. As I kissed it your heart sped up. I kissed it again and the fan blades went faster. I kissed it harder and Cynthia's voice shrunk even deeper into the background. Sloppy kisses then followed as my heart raced with obsession. Your hand then grabbed into my hair like a saddle, holding back your moans for dear life.

As I nibbled, bit and licked, I felt your hand press me deeper into it. I licked deeper as if I were reaching for the remaining cavity of ice cream in an empty cone. The conversation in your ear became an after thought. Every reply to whatever Cynthia was saying was "uh huh...um hm.. Yea". Then one time Cynthia asked you, "Could you believe that"? And your reply was, "Uh!" Like an asshole I laughed a little. After that, you periodically took the phone away from your face to let out a feint "Um" or "Oh God". It was sexy seeing you on the phone with your eyes closed shut like you were straining during ab crunches. I started enjoying it more and more. Then you controlled the pace, as you rotated your hips with my jaw, it started to feel less like an animalistic release and more like a passionate kiss. I placed my hand on your right breast and began groping it at the same tempo as lips. I opened my eyes to find yours already waiting for them. I arose with your scent coated in my mustache, never letting go of our connection. You moved the phone away from your face, waiting to put your arms around my back. I kissed your breasts on my way up. Your attention then became split. Part of you was enjoying what I was doing to your neck as you waited below. I reached my right hand down to grab the middle of what you wanted. I sat the head in front of her then let my hips sink in. Your gasp sucked an aggressive moan out of me. The phone slipped from your grip during the slowly arched pull outs. Slow deep thrusts were followed by shooting sensations as I continuously hit your cervix. We slipped deeper and deeper into time and each other.

The friendship we had for each other always made the chase between us exciting. But the love that we had for each other elevated it to moments like these. The moment where were more than ourselves. From the outside looking in one would see kissing, lip biting, sucking and hips wearing shaking legs with curled toes. They would hear moans, and names being shouted, and pleas for God. They would see two people who appear to be in love. But inside it was more than that. We were doing more than just making love, we were reminiscing. Our kisses felt like the first all over again. We were making up. Every time I pulled out was like we were saying we were sorry to each other for neglecting the other. Every thrust was like we were coming back after a brief argument. We were supporting each other. She wanted to please me as much as I wanted to please her. We were dancing; going in and out to our own rhythm. Most of all we were growing. Every stroke was better than the last. The more we loved each other the better it was. Our orgasms weren't just physical elevations, they became out of body experiences and spiritual ascensions. We went to a place that wasn't of this world. It was a place that only we knew. We needed each other to get there.

And to think this all started from a black dress and my love for the woman wearing it.





You never hung up the phone. Cynthia heard everything. Naturally, she gave you funny looks at work the next day.

J_by_Bubblegum Face

This letter J is Provided By: BubbleGumFace


J Series: April Hughes


J Series: April Hughes

I was eleven. She was twenty-eight. These were one of the few times that I had been in a moving vehicle with my brother driving. This was yet another one of the many times that I felt uneasy about him. The household I was raised in had made me this way. We were pseudo urban black Americana family that was thrown a slight twist with my brother's involvement. But I'll touch more on that later. I remember being feeling old enough to not wear my seat belt in the back seat, which felt like more of an accomplishment than anything. My brother didn't have a license. April let him drive the car anyway. I couldn't remember whether it was her father's or her uncle's vehicle. We were on our way to someplace close. My brother's warrants and criminal record didn't allow him the leisure of peaceful living without interactions from police. Sometimes detectives. Some of them had even come to know me by face and name. I guess for once we had some resemblance. The speed he drove at was that of a reckless adult. Maybe he was showing off to himself. Maybe somewhere in his mind he was showing off to me. Who knows? To be honest much of my child hood is a blur so I apologize for not being able to describe more elements of the scenery. But from what I remember in clear vision is unquestionable.

As we hit sixty down a back street, April asked him to slow down. She was braver than I was. I had been hit by the man too often to care for another bout. The fourteen-year age gap between us had really taken a shot at my confidence level in fights. It amazes me now how I was less afraid of us crashing in the car and more afraid of his temper. I had seen car crashes; even been in a few. But I had never seen a car destroy as many lives as he did. At the age of eleven I still had hope for him. He could change I told myself. "He is trying", my mother told herself. There were certain things in my mind that I didn't want to accept him as, because of this hope, this love for him. A similar love for him was in April. Her love was from that of his lover and oldest friend. She begged him to slow down. I remember her screaming at him. What followed was the reality of who my brother was. Seeing is believing, I guess. I had seen my brother raise his hand in attempts to strike my mother. Perhaps my youth didn't allow me to channel that resolve into scenarios of lesser respect. He took his right hand off the wheel and struck April with the back of his fist.

I had seen men fight. I had seen the violence shared through that brotherhood. In that moment it was violated. Her neck snapped in such a manner that I thought she was dead. Necks aren't supposed to move like that. Women aren't supposed to raise their arms up in defense like that. Not against a grown man. Or any man. Shit, he had never even hit me that hard. At least, I don't think so. The incident resembled an animal cruelty commercial. April wasn't defenseless, nor was she less than human, but what happened was disturbing. Fortunately, my father, not our father, had always raised me to be my brother's opposite. I didn't want to do what he did. I didn't think that was acceptable. And from that moment on I had lost hope. April cried a little. But her response of merely shutting up had told me that this had happened before. How many times had he hit her?

We got back to the house a short while later. I went to go play video games. April went with him to go someplace else. I remember hearing the car streak off as I made my way up the stairs. The studio apartment was empty. I think both of my parents were either at work or doing whatever two people that hated each other did. After an exhausting day of going to school and watching a man vs. woman battle arena in a moving vehicle, I just wanted to do normal kid stuff. During that time, videos games were my get away from everything. I was eager to practice in fighting games so I could win against my friends. For an eleven year old, this was a point of pride. But as I picked up the controller I could not get my mind off April. In between my combinations of up, down, back, forward, Kick, I couldn't help but wonder why did she stay? Did she like getting hit? I hated my brother. Did she actually like him? A few nights later she was outside of our house crying and I finally got the chance to ask her.

I don't remember the night, or the weather, but I do remember that she didn't have a jacket on. Before I could expose the pink elephant in the room, I first asked her if she was Ok and offered to get her a napkin. Though, she wasn't my parent, she was still an adult. I understood that children shouldn't ask adults these questions. My prior attempt at trying to be an adult in front of an adult, lead to me getting slapped in the mouth. Don't ask me why I thought I could say the word "bitch" in front of my mother. April said "thank you" for the napkin and began wiping her face off. Now that she was cleaned I could finally ask her the question. "April why do you let him hit you"? I tried to add as much base into my voice as an eleven year old could. I could have hit a better falsetto note than a tenor. To my surprise, April answered in my brother's defense. "I love your bother, Theo. And he's not all bad". I had never heard anyone say that before. "He isn't? When"? I asked. I had tried my hardest to find things to like about my brother for years. How could I have missed something? I waited for her to tell me some new fact that I hadn't yet discovered but I shot down her attempts with faster quips then she could.

April: "He takes me out sometimes".

Me: "Well, he steals from us".

April: "He punched this guy once for talking rudely towards me".

Me: "He tried to punch my mom".

Her: "He.....", In her pause to find an answer, I cut her off before she could get a word in.

Me: "He also tried to fight my dad. He's always drunk. I hate him".

Her eyes had widened enough in her face to shrink the tears forming at the bottom. I wasn't too sure weather she was more surprised that I understood all of these things, or that he really was the man that I knew him as. "Jesus Theo, he tried to fight your dad"? She questioned. "Yup, just the other night", I replied. "Well Theo not all of those things are bad. I smoked with your brother a few times. But I didn't smoke anything laced. He tried to get me to do that shit with him but I wouldn't". At the time I didn't know what she was talking about. It made more sense later when I would catch him in rooms arguing with himself. "I don't like when he hits you. You’re nice. When I get bigger than him I'll hit him back for you and everyone else. Ok"? April smiled at me. My eleven year old ass had treated her better than any man ever had. "You might be able to take him now" She said. "Maybe not upfront. I did pee in his apple juice once" I replied. April laughed hysterically. "Are you serious"? She said. "Hell no, but when I handed him his apple juice I told him that I might've pee'd in it. He laughed but I didn't. The cup was still full by the time he was done eating". April laughed even harder. "You and your brother are nothing alike" she said. "I know. I'm actually smart" I replied. From that point forward we formed a tight friendship out of our mutual distaste for my brother. She would call up and speak on the phone with me for 10 minutes before even speaking with him. Or opposed to crying over him after an argument, her and I would go outside and just laugh at everything. One time we had even placed a bet on what age he would die. Her guess was 40, mine was thirty-two. I lost by the way. Eventually my brother started to get jealous of our friendship. Several times he confronted me on it. All of the confrontations ended with some sort of threat. Then again my brother threatened me for everything. Naturally, the threats only added to our hatred of each other and the closeness between April and I. April finally had someone she could talk to and I was finally able to speak as an adult to an adult. Unlike any of my brother's previous girl friends she would ask about me. She even bought me gifts on Christmas.

As time passed on my brother got worse. The beatings and cheatings had taken their toll on her. Then like all twisted love stories of modern day, April became pregnant. This was her first child and his fourth. I loved April, so I loved the child. April smiled differently after becoming a mother but she also cried differently. Brad was her new everything. Unfortunately, his father wasn't ready to be his father. Nor was he ready to stop putting his hands on April. I grew older to resent him for not only hitting a woman but for now hitting my friend. April made an attempt at living with him. In my youth I had no idea why she would do something so stupid, but after becoming a parent myself I understood that she did it for the sake of her family. The attempt only lasted for a couple months. I didn't know what exactly happened. But I do know that it resulted in April's family turning against her. She eventually lost the apartment. From that point forward her and my nephew slept from place to place. Some of those places being shelters. My brother slept comfortably back at our place. I knew the monster he was. I didn't know the monster he was becoming. Phone arguments between the two turned into threats. Fuck you's turned into "Fuck you and that kid". I didn't know how April was doing. We couldn't speak as much obviously. I was growing up and going through my own issues. And she was dealing with obstacles that I couldn't even fathom. I went through the teenage male rebellions. I'm sure most teenagers rebelled against their families or parents, but instead I was standing up for mine. The continued cycle of my hatred, my brother's violence, my parents fighting, and my mother's continuous forgiveness of my brother, pushed me into going away for college. So I left. Something in me felt a sense of guilt for leaving behind April and Brad.

From there I was given bits and pieces of April's life from my mother. One week April was still in a shelter. The next month April met a guy. Another year April had cancer. A few months later she had beat cancer. We had grown so far apart. The eleven year old and twenty-eight year old were not eleven and twenty-eight anymore. I became an adult. And she didn't need to relate to anyone about my brother. Now April is happily married. My nephew Brad is fifteen or so. He may not have his actual father as a dominant role in his life but he has a great man as a father figure and a pretty cool uncle that still thinks about him.  At a young age April taught me many things about women and life. Our conversations developed my abilities to not only empathized with people but to find commonalities at any angle. She slightly messed up my normal interactions with girls my age though. Regardless, I learned a lot from April. I learned a lot from false love. I learned a lot from the abuse. Many people hear of the horror stories of domestic violence. Unfortunately, other people see it. More importantly children see it. I was lucky enough to have a father that was around to steer me away from becoming like my brother. And I'm sure had my father had better health during my youth, he would have done more to stop my brother. But he wasn't. An untamed son found substance in the abuse of his strength. Then an untamed man found his hands frequently misplaced on women. April if you're reading this, tell Brad his uncle says hi. And just know that I'm bigger than my brother now.

*I know while reading this you might've had the idea that at some point in time April and I slept together. It never happened. Also, as a hidden bonus I'll reveal more information to you about April. I used a picture of K.Michelle to give this post a popular modern face, but April was a white woman. Having a celebrity's face as the cover of something may give the post more appeal. You have no idea how April looks or who she is, so making her picture the cover might have not attracted you into this reading this post. At least not as fast as a picture of K.Michelle would have.


J Series: Rome


J Series: Rome

Explanation: Have you ever had something special with someone, but for whatever reason it didn't work out? Like me, do you ever have a what if moment? This post is my personal "what if" within the J Series. Its my way of saying how great we could have been.  Or how great I am waiting for us to be. Ladies and Gentlemen I give you Rome.