Your mind rewinds time and patience perseveres as the orgasmic atmosphere clears and you've released your fears~~comfort begins to synchronize with acceptance that I'm here.     
Here in the language of your heart and the mainstream of your every thought~~
Parallel to your existence.
I thought I had it all figured out before being introduced to your prodigious constitution.  My neatly packaged façade was in imminent danger and conscientious provocation offered no immediate solutions.
So when I reached into the reservoir of experiences I stored and found that nothing~~nothing could justify this unfamiliar territory I was beginning to explore I started to travel along the corridors of my mind until I began to find the hallways of my heart, then I slowly traced the landscapes of my core.
I had the keys for these hidden in a place no one has looked before; so hidden I forgot they existed.  They were obstructed by infrastructures built solely upon assumptions about my true self, my true worth, my true inhibitions. 
I seen truth in your eyes; and the dominance in your bravado helped me to relax in the presence of life's adversities~~previously obscured by un-bandaged wounds where sap formed and assurance bloomed.  Buildings were then leveled one by one~~and the sound  tuned chords and plucked strings never strummed.  I listened the song in dreams serenaded by the songs you played.  Listened to the beats you were boxing while in a summer haze and hummed the tune of your orchestrated melody for days and days. I journeyed to the sun blinded by copulance and mesmerized by your ways its such sweet serenity.  I'm captivated by your gestures, bounded where you are until seven times infinity.                

Hold Up!!!!!!

HOLD UP!!!!
Did you just say I wouldn’t succeed?

HOLD UP!!!!
Thought my name was defeat
HOLD UP!!!!!
I know it’s hard for you to believe. Wait just one sec let me roll up my sleeves
HOLD UP!!!!
Let me explain this nice, and slow. Matter of fact have a seat, here we go

HOLD UP!!!!!!
I’ve walked in some dark places been the lowest I could be. Actually have been violated by men in my own family
HOLD UP!!!!
Been abandoned, misused and tossed to the wind. Had to learn early the world was cold and full of sin.

HOLD UP!!!!
See truth is, no one talks about the bad side of life, and if they do it becomes a 'spotlight on me' type situation. Never explaining that their testimony is a victory to be shared. That no matter how heavy the cross, God saved them through mercy and prayer.
HOLD UP!!!!
Am I touching a nerve??? Talking to real?? Am I like En Vogue 'Giving You Something You Can Feel'?? Are you worried that you’ve judged me while secretly judging yourself??

HOLD UP!!!!
I would go deeper, but that might draw tears. If you’re not already about to cry. best question I have is why???
HOLD UP!!!!
I SURVIVED!!! I’m victorious. I’ve succeeded I’m truly free. During those trials & tribulations I was giving a testimony. You're reading, You’re wondering how did she make it through.

I held Gods hand…..and held on to my mustard seed of faith that nothing is impossible without You.

She Knows

Haunted by her eyes.  Imploring, unyielding, void of surprise.  
She knows...Acknowledgement resides inside of dilation.  Its boarders aligned by a condemning gaze subdued by disbelief clouded in haze.  

She knows...and she sees him in the glow of my soul, witnessing the saturation of his adoration in the translucency of my eyes and the confident exuberance of my stride and the sway my hips no longer disguise.

She hears me speak and in between the lines of words unsaid rests his smile accessorized by the subtle tilt of my head.  She analyzes my person, as she inquires within...why not me instead? 

She feels betrayed by Love, angry with Time, weak by Envy and poisoned in the mind.  I wish I could hold her as she articulated what she saw, heard and felt while penetrating her core.  Helping her to reach climax hidden behind circumstance.  Providing keys to unlock restricted doors, and encourage her to keep searching until she has found her definition of "MORE"…  

Because he's just enough for me.  Advise her to cease the search for him because he is within the warmth of my inner thighs and the dip in my breasts.  He is within my treasure and the yearnings of my existence.  He is within me and that is what I know.             

The Moves

I didn't mean to put the moves on you, but that kiss felt perfect. 
I felt the cold air part as you leaned in, the slight curve in the back of your neck.
I swear this isn't game. That half second when you pulled back to breathe my atmosphere, that was perfection. You pulled me close as the snow fell, my lips explored your neck.... a seafarer sighting land. Ambrosia to a starving man. Id claim it if I could, but this land is not mine to claim.
"I know", you repeatedly whisper as I bask in your warmth, finding myself between warm skin and frozen goretex. What is real and what is synthetic...
"I know" you nibble on my ear as I gently lift you, feeling you expand in my hands.
I don't respond because I know as well.
I know this won't last, perfection isn't forever, it's a moment. There to be enjoyed until it's gone. A faint memory of fullness you can't explain.
I swear I'm not running game, I lost the rules. I have incinerated the rules at your altar. I defy the rules and do what I shouldn't.
If I was putting moves on you I'd be an actor in a play. But now I'm taken in by the scene... Lines forgotten along with the rules to this game.

I left you at your door smiling as the wind howled, assuring you I'd see you again. No date, just sometime.
The only distance between us being physical.
The warmth as my chest pounds, a welcome side effect from a brush with perfection.

Simple

See I remember when life was simple. You know, just You and I. When the biggest decision we had was what we were going to do to pass the time by. Now, we let life pass us by and we don't even blink. Almost feels like we no longer are in sync. Every time we speak it’s about our flow. Business as usual, always on the go. What happened to that person that was there, oh you remember, no phone, no interruptions, no major hustle just simple as life could get.
When a one bedroom was sufficient enough, and two sandwiches was more than enough. When one TV was all we needed. When I was enough there was no cheating. When there were no cars, walking made us feel free. When taking the express 2 or 4 train was high class to me. There was no kitchen, no sink or even a stove. Our closet door was a sheet on a string. We used a ladder to keep our bedroom door closed. A 600.00 check held us down for 2 weeks. There was no H&E washer and dryer because there was a laundry mat down the street.

When we shared a beef patty with coco bread dinner. Now, we have full course meals, and with a straight face, have the nerve to be upset by not being full. Simple days when what we had was plenty, more than enough. Now a days we have more, and tend to be stuck. On making an impression that we rose from the bottom, and now we’re here. Looks like we lost cause now we here with less than what we had. On the go all the time. Apart more than you know. Romantic moments out the door. No time for self because we have to stay afloat.

Simple. ..can we go back to when less was more? Can we go back to the mouse traps on the floor? Simple… can we erase the progress for just one day? Can we take a back seat to making a way? Simple life was it? Or did the struggle set us free? The journey of our lives made us warriors because we survived didn't we??? Nothing was simple it was all a test of our Faith. Where we are now is a blessing. Simply Put ~ Thank You for the Simple because without it there's No Me.

Be grateful for the Simple because it showed what was reality . There's progression and growth in all we do. Your Simple is what molds you . If you look back on life you will clearly see you’re not where you use to be. You’re not even the same. Simple is no longer what you gain. Simple turned into stability and growth. Simple turned into parenting, protection, and hope. Our foundations started off Simple, but our structure had to become strong. In order for us to be able to move on. The Simple sticks with us it's the motivation we need.


See how all those Simple moment's really helped us to succeed!?!

Destroy & Rebuild Presents… ITC

I am a wife, daughter, mother, sister and a friend deep down still a little girl
Trying to escape a lot of pain

Escaping my pain by putting those emotions on paper

Sharing my trials & tribulations so that I may

Help someone else, and be there voice

It’s not easy not being heard

Admitting right, and wrong choices

Constant thoughts running through my mind

Angry at the world for not appreciating what I have endured

Resting on the fact that I am a child of God

There has got to be a better way than this

Enduring all of the pain to eventually

Reach a point of triumph

Now that I have your attention I’m ready to deliver a testimony.

I  Am ITC!!  - Destine 2 Win

She

She says "I can't see myself investing time in this, in us..." I looked at her and thought. "All I invested was time..."
We have time only up until we don't. Time with her passed easily, even incessant arguing was beautiful.
Was I just looking to pass time?
"Time passes easily with you," another thought that I wouldn't vocalize. Too many ways that statement could be taken wrong. I meant it as a compliment, but women like time to stand still when you see them.
Stasis to me is torture.
"When I was lonely, time passed as fast as frozen molasses through a kinked hose, but you baby, you're a pink rose, blossoming in the sludge that I carry, why can't we be merry....."
Do not fucking say that, poetry wouldn't be appropriate right now.
"Tim, do you understand what I mean?" she asks looking deep into my eyes.
Hers are green with orange flecks, fresh cut kiwis spattered with clementine shrapnel. There's a darkness in there. Her dark streak is what got me, a fair-skinned beauty with a meanness to her. She was a conqueror, my heart lay under siege.
Say something.
"You say my name like it has a bad taste," I respond. I'm stalling. I know exactly what she's saying, I know what she's saying because I've heard it out of other's mouths before.
In my head I calculate her words, "can't, myself,invest,time,us" = I'm broken, you hurt me, this is a waste, it's you.
"That wasn't the question Tim", she sighs. Her phone vibrates on the night stand and she makes no motion towards it. Now I know I'm fucked. She's the only girl I've ever loved that never called me Timmy.
"I know...." Stall. Save this. Now I look to freeze time and my mind begins to wander, look at her eyes, look at her beautiful hair, look at her nose and how it sits on top of her mouth, the permanent downward turn her lips take at either side, her hands, delicate but they can deliver a mean slap. Her body, her shape.
Fight to grasp another second here.

When I first saw her, I looked 4 times, a double-double take. I was working a venue, she was dancing.
"A girl like that'll never talk to you Tim." I thought out-loud, my voice drowned out by the music.

"I have real goals Tim and I don't want to end up supporting you." She talks to me now.
Reality rushes in, what "could've been" dissolves into what "is", and what "has been".
I'm never tongue tied. She's made me soft, all that she is envelopes the facade of who I wish to be. She's a gentle mist, entering the cracks. She turns cold and potholes form.
Crumbling, I whisper "I understand, I'm gonna go..."
"Do you not feel anything? Don't you have anything to say?"
Say something, she wants you to tell her how you feel. Share. Go on.
"Thank you."
She's mad now, "For what?"
"Your time, the words I uh, know how difficult I can be..." I stutter like a child as the moment slips, the warmth of the room dissipates and I can see the light in her eyes dim.
"Oh"
I turn the doorknob and show my love, my back.
I cry during the walk home and decide it's her fault. It's her fault is what I tell myself, the tears stop. The anger stops the tears, the cold night clears my thoughts.
"Fuck" I know the truth.

The Other

I'm a cheater, I'm violent, I don't listen and I will fight if I have to. I am the other. The shadow you seek to banish is my habitat and this darkness feeds me. It seems that all the light you seek lies at the end of the tunnel, would your goal at the end be so bright without me inhabiting the tunnel? 

Now not to say being the other is lonely, I have friends. They feed my addictions, and close pathways much like I do. When we gather together the darkness falls, velvet confetti blankets and occludes all. The ancients knew of me and sought to banish me from the self, cast away from man I became the devil, the evil, the monster you run from but can't escape. 

Every prophet this earth has seen has done battle with me, some are left dribbling fools in rubber rooms, the lucky ones die quickly. A very rare few pass on successful tactics to the lost souls that surround them. This is an eternal arms race and, while you have a pitiful lifetime to sharpen your weapon, I've had an eternity to stock my arsenal. 

I am that which you do not dare to even think about, but I am here. Never tired, never hungry, no sleep to be had. I will take more than you can give, and then take more. All I've ever wanted is my place back, as part of man. I'm integral, I swear it... As long as you deny me entry, your gates will be breached. I am the other, the darkness from which light emits, I am the other created as love's twin brother. Find chaos in unity and know we feed each other, you seek the light, it lies in the opposite direction, but not separate from that which I am. The other.

A Serious Game…

Timba, Timmy,Yayo,Tim, Mr. Sturtevant. What's in a name? I'm a man in his early twenties, in the process of making a name for myself, and most likely it won't be any of the aforementioned names I've had over the years. I'm at a point in my life where change happens rapidly as I accelerate deeper into the bowels of adulthood, to be honest i'd prefer to be nameless during this turbulent time. My belongings consist of at least 35 books, and maybe 20 articles of clothing (not including socks and underwear, just to clarify) I live on a couch in Boston with my loving, outgoing sister and her extremely intelligent and ambitious husband. After travelling the world I have come to find that the things I treasure are those which cannot be stolen, experiences, friendships, and lost loves. Lost loves are getting commonplace...As an individual who's life alternates between annihilation and reconciliation I feel honored to be brought on board at Destroy and Rebuild. I seek to build an understanding of others and destroy preconceived notions, I seek to examine my ignorance and find those who make it apparent. But most importantly I seek solace in the written word, not only my own but of all others within our community.

Joy & Happiness: The Difference

A man has made at least a start on discovering the meaning of human life when he plants shade trees under which he knows full well he will never sit.

—D. Elton Trueblood

Our lives are enriched by the contributions of those who lived before us. Many men and women gave more than they ever took from society, and now we enjoy the rewards. Some people were fired with a spirit to beautify the world and planted trees that will live for 200 years. Others wrote music that speaks to us from another generation, and others established a government that guides our principles of justice. They gave so much because they knew they were a part of their community and the world.

I may not make the great contributions that will make me famous, but I can enrich my life and the lives around me when I contribute freely to improving the community and the world. I can do this when I simply say hello to my neighbor, when I serve on a volunteer cleanup committee for a local park, Habitat for Humanity, Caring For The Homeless of Peekskill (C.H.O.P.), and The Food Pantry. These are vehicles that I use to help beautify and contribute to the world, and that gives me a feeling of peace and self-respect.

I wasn't always the person I am today. Knowing who I was and who I aspire to become has given me grace. Being angry, violent, believing in nothing greater than myself, and holding on to the "me against the world" attitude has caused much harm to my self and to those around me. I have a CHOICE and in the M.A.S. I was conflicted for a greater portion of my life lived. Recognizing that I can live different to make a difference has done wonders for my children, my wife, my family, my friends, even some strangers, and me.

The phrase 'joy (AND) happiness' always struck me to be odd. The use of the word 'AND' was always in question- as if joy and happiness were separate entities, and today I believe they are separate in definition.

Happiness is still something I have yet to achieve. I feel as if it is measured by time. For example when someone is happy it describes (to me) a length of time. Happiness seems as though it is a feeling that must be achieved. And forgive me, I can be wrong but I find when someone is happy it isn't for a second, a minute, hours, or even a day. It is a state or a period in their life that they have experienced 'happiness'. I have witnessed people in the act of giving, caring, and planting those trees that were not happy. Yet still they gave.

Joy is a feeling that I have experienced many times before but was too ignorant to recognize. Recently I am blessed to recognize the energy or the electricity it shocks my heart with, my soul, M.A.S. I feel joy is measured by moments, overwhelming instances that cannot be denied, and pure genuine emotion. For example, joy blasts our beings, it shocks the body, it creates tears that cannot be held down, and it sits heavy and in the gut. Again, forgive me, I can be wrong but joy does not have to be achieved, it happens whether we like it or not. It cannot be obstructed. It cannot be controlled. I have witnessed people and myself that weren't happy experience joy in a moment, isolated tiny events, and it is obvious (to me) when it occurs. In the act of giving back to the community, giving back to the universe as it had given to me helps me to feel joy. Planting a tree and seeing it grow knowing I will never sit in its shade gives me joy. Seeing people do for others gives me joy. My heart pounds, my eyes well up, and my spirit is touched when joy overwhelms me.

This is only my opinion. This isn't science, nor are they facts. This is not meant to offend those who claim to be happy- it's just when I hear or read the word happiness it still seems so foreign. However, joy is familiar to me, as this year it has shaken me over as over again. I am so thankful for these moments and without shame.

Plant a tree.

Peace.

Mind, Body, & Soul

Mind, body, and soul- mental, physical, and spiritual...

I gathered this morning with like minds. It was a powerful session, to say the least.

For me, it's a trifecta. If my mental, physical, and spiritual, is not aligned I'm off-balance completely. It's not an easy task, but sometimes more simple than I perceive it to be.

The mental comes with right thought, and right action. With these comes right direction. In addition, my mental depends on my ability to differentiate between right and wrong, between healthy and destructive living.

The physical comes with moving a muscle. "Move a muscle, change a thought." Exercising, hitting the gym, doing my routine push-ups, going for walks, and playing with my children are all ways that I can keep my physical on point. My physical also depends on my diet. The food that I feed my body reflects my physical and the respect I have for it.

The spiritual comes with surrender. Surrendering to my HIGHER POWER is one way to stay spiritually connected. Hitting my knees and praying throughout the day is another. In addition, reading daily meditations, books about Buddhism, the Bible, and sometimes the Qur'an help as well. Even staying close and spending time with my children help to keep me connected and spiritually healthy.

All dependent on each other, my mental, my physical, and my spiritual need to coexist. There is a harmony that must be achieved, a balance- mind, body, and soul. One without the other is like a puzzle missing it's pieces, incomplete.

For me, staying spiritually and physically connected is much easier than mentally. My mental can be quite dangerous to me at times. It holds resentments, dwells on the past, encourages frivolous mischiefs, and often entices me in all the wrong ways. My mind has a strong ability to hate but my heart does not. My mind has a clever yearning for revenge but my heart does not. My mind can isolate me from my body and soul, but I refuse to let it.  My mind can seek out and befriend depression but body and soul know depression is no friend of min(d). Thank GOD for my spirit which keeps me grounded and my physical that allows me to soldier through and endure. 

Today, I need be aware of my my mental and work towards the balance I need to stay aligned- mind, body, and soul.

It is not an easy task; however, I've come this far and I keep reminding myself it could always be worse. Today, I am grateful for my blessings and will practice an attitude of success and greatness while being transparent with a sense of humility.

I'm going through it, and I'm gonna get through it.

Anniversary of Tragedy

Soon I will face the anniversary of tragedy.

It has it’s own way of waking me.

It shakes me by the shoulder, and the surprise is crushing.

Unexpected, the belief in it all, is impossibly simple.

Concisely confusing, it is brief in its form and non-comprehensive.

Seeming tangible but it is not.

A fading existence, trying to hold on to memories

Memories appear misty and become translucent.

With an eager eye as if it were a reaching hand, I look.

 With hopes to hold on to what is left of it all.

Let go and let HIM.

Let HIM hold onto the treasures that pain me.

Let HIM hold down the rising tides that rush my shores and salt my shell.

Let go and allow myself,

Allow myself to gain understanding so that he may grant me direction.

So that HE may lead me through the tragedy of LOVE and its clutches. 

Chords

When I was a youngster…

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes became hours

Sometimes I waited long into the night before I-

Before I heard the tune of your pain at the piano

Most nights like clockwork you came home and you played

Your scales you played over and over again were

Reflective of your personality, always wanting to be better

A person better you were, more than you knew

Because all you knew were your mistakes

But, that’s not the case- you were great

You were unapproachable but it bared no weight

On me, as I am the son of a humble and powerful king

Powerful in his silence and humble in his nature

You were all these things- to me- and so much more

The peaceful elephant the powerful lion dare not tussle alone with

The young teenager trying to figure out the meaning of life

The hardworking ever-hoping blue-collar father

Trying to feed his family, but trying to feed his hunger

Trying to quench his thirst a presence like thunder

An eerie rumble that shook the world around you

Caught between you and your self, you were-

You were- so sick and so closed, and you so chose better

You so chose vision, hope, and you chose my brother and I

You were healing, and as your eyes opened you understood

The extent of, and severity of, a son’s love for his father

You had wisdom that needed me, as I listened

With battered ears as a young boy

To the surprise of my adult years your guidance

Was- IS worthy of a loving father

You genuinely wanted the best for me

And even when it seemed you could not fathom life

I knew- I knew underneath the thick layer of pain

Were smiles that pierced me like the sun’s rays.

You were amazing and I was amazed

Maybe, just maybe it was the chords you played

With a sound so quiet and yet so profound

I Will Not Pretend

I will not pretend. 

Falling to me knees is what I needed. 

Last night the word unmanageability was the subject of discussion.

Amongst (it) were other powerful words.

‘Unmanageable’ spoke to me as if it were a person in our circle. 

While others spoke, Unmanageable began to quiet itself. 

When I entered the room every thing was in order, so I thought.

Voices lead the way, I listened, and I listened some more.

The first voice spoke as if HE put the story in place for me to hear.

The voice spoke of relative misfortunes and shortcomings, I was familiar.

But so unfamiliar am I that I needed to understand, and I tried.

As time passed and the speaker continued, my emotions were not so becoming.

Becoming unmanageable they were.

I thought to myself.

I tucked deep down inside those tears and tried hard not to vomit feelings.

The speaker spoke, and while the speaker spoke to the circle, HE spoke to me.

HE tells me to listen and to share my feelings.

Now with two voices, one inside and the other out, I try to hear what is said.

I try hard to hear what is meant for me, I understand that I am beside support.

I am beside hearts.

Trust me or do not trust me the speaker says but DO TRUST HIM.

Trust in HIM that I may be thankful for waking today.

Thank HIM for allowing me to be conscious in my sleep.

The speaker was troubled by the words, warranted words.

Working doubly hard to not let the unmanageability of emotions take control of the podium.

A breath, and then silence.

Another breath, and more silence between words.

I looked on with great empathy.

HE was with me.

My Brother, Ian.

After my father passed I was done off. I had hit bottom face down. I felt like I had lost the one person in life that truly BELIEVED in me, who did not JUDGE me, who was CONFIDENT I could achieve - and was capable of- more than I myself could believe, the one person who OFTEN reminded me of how far I had come as a son, a father, and a human being.

I would catch him looking at me with piercing eyes and his serious and calm face. I'd say "What's up Pop?" And he would tell me such things, and say things he's never said. I recognized that sometimes it took a great courage for him to show his affection: but he did, and I was grateful For his effort. I am grateful I can still hear him today. I hear him clearly through my brother Ian Claxton.

Confused and lost without him. I was at the brink of losing everything: my family, my job, my life. So I took a trip to California to run away, to escape. Without knowing, so clouded I did not realize, I was staying with Ian and his beautiful family on my father's Born Day (Sept 20th).

It was that night my Ian and I had an intense exchange of words and emotions. Through it all he shared with me what I thought I lost with my father. Ian truly BELIEVED in me, he did not JUDGE me, he was CONFIDENT I could achieve - and was capable of- more than I myself could believe, he would come to reminded me of how far I had come as a son, a father, a brother, and as GOD's son.

I came to tears that night in disbelief, as Ian's confidence in me was remarkable, and his faith sparked the flame that warmed my spirit and brought me back to life.

I surrendered to my little brother and asked him to tell me what I needed to do, and told him I would listen and do whatever it took: frustrated, broken, angry, terrified, sad, empty. He told me, and I listened, and I committed to doing as he said.

He said,"Bump, have faith in HIM."

Often Ian sends me text messages and calls me. We are closer than we've ever been. He helped me to restore: BELIEF in myself, the CONFIDENCE that I can achieve - and I am capable of- anything I set out to do. He, taught me to recognize how far I've come as a son, a father, a human being, and GOD's son.

Since then my life has taken taken the best turn in 39 years. Since then I have witnessed the blessings and the promises come to life. Since then I can say life has been miraculous.

This morning, I am THANKING GOD for having my brother Ian in my life. 

Bryant Park, Checkmate

Ok, so I walk to Bryant Park 42nd St. before meeting my mother for lunch on 46th and 6th. I find an old timer on the library side who was sitting alone with a chess board and offense (White) in front him. I ask him if it was alright to sit and have a match with him. He smiled, let out a little laugh, stuck out his hand to signal me to sit in the empty seat, which was the defensive side (Black).

I was nervous. He asked me my name, and I told him my name is Choice, and he told me his name was Charles. I nodded my head and shook his hand showing him respect for accepting my challenge.

While I was sitting down and placing my bag to my side, I see out of the corner of my eye, a movement. In a flash, in split second timing, with light speed, and without me even seeing him do so, he had reached across the board and removed my h7 pawn (King's Side), and in the same swipe of the hand he removed his a2 pawn. By the time it took me to sit, set my bag down, and look up he sat staring at me as if nothing happened. Only when I looked at the board and noticed the two pawns missing - which were not only a second ago- did I truly notice what he had done. Bewildered, I said nothing and looked back him with a blank stare. As soon as I was about to ask if we were going to start without the pawns, as soon as I twitched a lip, he pulled his 2 fists from below the table and placed them at eye level in front of me. He said nothing and stared at me. I asked him, "Pick one?" He nodded to say yes. I picked his right hand, which was my left because I am a lefty. He opened his hand and showed the white pawn. It was a game before the game, his way of a fair decision as to which side we would control. He then turned the rubber chess board around so that I was sitting behind the white army of pieces.

Because I was nervous I blurted out to him that it was my first time ever sitting down to play in NYC. He chuckles and said, "(When) I win I hope you wouldn't mind offering me a small donation. "I chuckled back and said I need to get back home on the train Sir.

I made my first move: queen's pawn, e2:e4. He responded, and the opening game was afoot. Quickly we established our pieces, and my opening game seemed to have surprised him. After 5-6 moves we were into the mid game, at which time I made a crucial but wise sacrifice- my knight for his pawn opening up the right flank, or h file to attack his castled king. It through him off as I hoped it would and left him open to attack, and let me establish in the next two moves a strong and powerful position. He retreated, and I pushed with more pressure.

While at the beginning it was just he and I with nobody around us, by this time people began to gather around and watch as the game became more intense and fast. With good position I knew I had to sacrifice more inventory to set up to capture his king. And so I did, and it through him off even more as he was up in inventory. He was wise enough to know I was up to something, and I was wise enough to know I needed to play aggressive to have a chance against him.

Knowing I was close to checkmate and he was up in inventory he began to play his strong pieces and attack with full force, and he was smart to do so because he pushed to the point that he also placed me under great pressure. The onlookers watched quietly and did not move a muscle. Surrounded by people and across the board from a park player I became more nervous, but I kept my focus, as one wrong move and he would mate me with ease.

Suddenly, in the end game we were at each other's throats - Queen to Queen, and my pieces were few but strategically placed so that there was no room for him to make a mistake. Quickly, I move my queen to place him in check and he had the choice to take my queen or retreat. However, knowing if he would have took my queen my rooks and my knight were in place to wipe out his fortress surrounding his queen. Every bit of me hoped that he would retreat in fear of losing his fortress and he did. He relocated his king and did not take my queen, at which point I stormed his beach.

I confronted him powerfully and with every bit of strength and strategy I had left on the board. Every move after was a check. He retreated again and again until I backed his king down to my king side. Finally, he was one move away from checkmate as he knew it. He took minutes to figure out how he let it happen, to try and figure a way out of the checkmate. He leaned back and folded his hand behind his head. He looked up and let out a big sigh of disbelief. He had lost, and my next move was the closing. Instead of letting me put him in checkmate, he leaned forward and said, "There's no way around it, I tried to find a way out. You've won youngster." I smiled softly, but every part of my insides were screaming with victory. My smile wanted to boast with pleasure but I did not let it.

An onlooker asked him why he did not take my queen when he had the chance. He explained to the guy that it was a trap. Had he taken my queen I would have closed on him soon after. In my head, I felt a sense of pride that he recognized what I had done. He told me he was impressed, an tipped his king.

I stood up, he stood up, we shook hands and I bowed my head and thanked him for the match and his time. He said it was a pleasure.

I grabbed my bag, and although I had defeated him, I reached in my pocket took out $2 and handed it to him. Once again, thanking him for a great game of chess.

As I walked away I jumped on the phone and called my mother immediately because I was suppose to meet with her a half hour before then. She said, "What happened Bump, are you okay?" I excitedly told her that I had just finished and won my first game ever in a NYC park. She laughed at me because I let out all the excitement that I held back while in front of the old man and the people surrounding us while we played. She said, "Great, I'll meet you outside on the 45th side, and you can tell me all about it over lunch."

Beautiful day in Manhattan- 

Breathe & Listen

WE were born with the ability to breathe. As an infant our breathing was excellent if not perfect. Our breathing was not yet tainted with experience.

As we grew older our breathing changed due to experience, especially as adults. WE suffered from adjustment: adjustment to pollution that taints the air around us (smoke, combustion, air pollution, etc.), and our own sources of pollution: for example, smoking, drugs, anxiety, stress, and coping with illness in our own ways.

Learning to breathe again - as we did when we were infants- can be a task: quite difficult. However, it can be achieved even if it is, for just a brief moment.

This brings to mind the act of slowing down. Slowing down, like breathing is something we distance ourselves from as we grow older. Before we know it we suffer from the "committee" in our heads - or the "the squirrel's nest".

Life, stress, relationships, substances, coping practices, and even the search for something greater than ourselves can be: noisy, debilitating, and can or will cause US to lead ourselves into moments of insanity.

Learning to slow down can be a task: quite difficult. However, it can be achieved even if it is, for just a brief moment.

We can succeed in the search for breath and the act of slowing down (tranquil moments) through destruction - destruction of the unhealthy habits WE created in our past that lead us to NOW. WE CAN, rebuild healthy habits, sober habits, and our ability to embrace: to live.

Through prayer and meditation we can achieve these moments. Taking brief pauses to revisit those things we are truly grateful for, truly thankful for, and what brings us a genuine feeling of joy can help us to breathe and slow down - or slow down and then breathe.

Paying attention to the ENTIRE moment is an act of embrace: the colors, movements, the smell, the feel or touch, the sound. Listening to your heartbeat, living through every living and mechanical motion slowly, paying close attention to our physical, feeling every step, feeling our heels touch the ground and closely following through until the tips of our toes leave the ground next, stopping to listen to our own heartbeat or someone in passing.

Upon putting my ear to my daughter's chest to listen and understand her heartbeat I quiet my mind, I stop listening to the world around me, I feel her small harmless structure against my ear. I listen, I breathe, I listen, and her heartbeat comes to life. I trace the sound, the touch, and our connection with my senses, and I become comfortably lost inside the moment.

Sitting down after a hike, resting in a comfortable position under a tree and listening to the wind rush my eardrums as it brushes my face, hearing the symphony of nature: wind through the trees, birds in harmony, even the distant sound of traffic petting pavement: absorbing the temperature, the warm, soothing mixture of a calm breeze and inspiring sunlight.

Stepping out of my house, planting both feet on the step or the sidewalk, looking forward at the world before me, without taking my feet off the ground or disconnecting from the earth, I turn my head slowly to the left and listen and look, slowly turn my head to the right and listen and look: and trust in my ears as much as I do my eyes. Feeling the calm, cool morning air rest on my face and hands, hear my heartbeat as I mind little, and let my senses speak to my thoughts.

Thanking my HiGHER POWER for today: for the ability to slow the pace of a minute and ripple my seconds so that I can breathe, listen, and let go - let go of my (the) self in a moment to experience the NOW - to let go of fear, to let go of the tears and pain I disguise by default, to let go of the noise and embrace my inner joy, to cuddle my gratitude, to understand serenity, to experience peace, breath, and a greater understanding of a tranquil moment. TODAY I KNOW there are many and I thank HIM for the ACCEPTANCE.

Breathe, listen: for NOW is a moment.

Destroy & Rebuild would like to introduce...

Hello Universe,

Destroy & Rebuild is excited to present to you a featured author...  

     She is life. She is an artist, a writer, and an experience.  I have asked her to join me in bringing to you different sides of the diamond, to share her stories, her thoughts, and her philosophies.  I’m honored to share this forum with her, as I am sure she will present - to the audience- a well of possibilities for all of us who choose to listen.  We live what we learn and we learn what we live, and she articulates this through her words and vision.

Without further ado, I am pleased to present to the audience of Destroy & Rebuild… ‘Z’.

Allow me to reintroduce myself…

     My non-formal introduction to the world… I am…I have become and I will always be 'Z'. Every day I am… a mother, a friend, a lover of life and most importantly… I am 'Z'.  My ‘was’ is always complex to speak about… my ‘was’ is multifaceted… my ‘was’, I am still working on…it is still being written. I guess it’s kind of complicated to live two lives at once; one is still healing while the other dwells in real time.

     My ‘was’ is very angry, lonely, hurt and confused… every day that God gives me breath, I work toward becoming a better 'Z'. Until I am able to be at peace with many things that have happened, I will not be strong enough to dream with certainty.

     History teaches us that people struggle with good and bad, which has been the case since the beginning of the human race. Once you become strong enough to live life with a heavier “good” load, life is easier to bear. Not to say that life is easy… things, your life obstacles and goals are easier to manage.  I don’t want to give you too many of my philosophies in advance, my goal is to give you my truth in hopes to help you understand that life is complicated but there is hope… there is a way and there is absolution.

     One day when I grow up, I would love to inspire people to dream with certainty. There is plenty to look forward to within a lifetime… I realize that now.  Even when things are dark, there is light, there is greatness to anticipate but there is a need for spiritual balance. I’ve recently implemented this in my real time life. When I dream now, there are lenses to adjust and allow me to see what is next… and to be honest, my dreams are beautiful now. 

Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: The Elderly Woman and the Metal-Green Walker Pt. II

Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: 

The Elderly Woman and the Metal-Green Walker Pt. II  

It was a rough day dealing with some customers with nasty attitudes that would rather I lose my job than read the back of their coupons.  It was rough because I was dealing with so many thoughts that day and they were running through my head all at once.  At home I had some things going on and was trying my best to cope with them all together.  A few weeks before that day, I had a car accident and totaled the car without hurting myself or anyone else, thankfully.  Only a week after the car accident I expected my father home from surgery and in good health.  Instead two days after having surgery in his left leg and after doctors told me he’d be better than ever with little or no extra nursing when he arrived home, I received a phone call at five o’clock the next morning.  The doctor said to me, “Mr. Claxton, your father was pronounced dead at 4:54 am this morning.”  He was 58 years old, and my little brother’s flight from California to New York landed 15 minutes after our father passed away.  I couldn’t get the picture of my father’s face tensed in pain with tubes stuffed down his throat out of my head.

    

     The day was longer than it seemed and I was ready to go home.  I was not in the mood to speak with anyone about anything.  I just wanted to get on the bus and get home as quietly and unbothered as I could.  I left my associates with a goodbye as I usually do, and they were unaware of all the things I was holding onto in my head and in my heart.  They said goodbye and told me to hurry so that I didn’t miss the bus, and hurry I did.  I ran up the stairs trying not to drop all that I had in my hands, and continued to the exit where the #16 Bus makes its last pick up at 9:50pm.

     The bus was already there but I was safe because there were people still boarding.  I walked over, boarded the bus, and I paid with my Metro Card.  As I picked up my head to scan the bus and figure out where it was I was gonna sit that night I saw Mrs. Holly sitting about three seats back from the front of the bus.  She had her metal green walker and many bags from different stores.  She smiled and said hello to me.  I smiled back and said, “Hello Mrs. Holly.”  She asked me, “You tired? You look tired? You’s a young boy why you look so tired?” With a slight smile I said to her that I was a bit tired and had some things on my mind.  I can remember trying to erase whatever it was I was thinking about that instant hoping she wouldn’t feel as if she were bothering me.  In my own way I was relieved she had noticed I was down.  It spoke to the attention she gave me, and her intuition.  I sat next to her.  After settling into my seat I looked at her and asked her in a low voice, “So what’s goin’ on with you Mrs. Holly?  I ain’t seen you in awhile.”  She sighed, looked around as if she didn’t want to share her story with the rest of the bus, looked at me and almost in a whisper she says to me, “I just came back from Syracuse.”  I asked her what she was doing up there, and what she was about to tell me next took me out of my head and into my heart.

    Mrs. Holly had just come back from Syracuse visiting her granddaughter and her great granddaughter.  She had been up in Syracuse in the hospital for the past two weeks.  Her granddaughter flipped the car eight times with Mrs. Holly in the passenger seat, her granddaughter driving, and her great granddaughter in the baby seat.  Her great granddaughter was only months old at the time. Mrs. Holly said it was amazing and God’s will that the baby never left the baby seat and didn’t have a scratch.  She was thankful she told me.  However, Mrs. Holly suffered some broken ribs, a broken wrist, and some more bumps and bruises to go with.  She said her neck and shoulder was burned from the seatbelt.  She said her granddaughter was fine but needed to wear a neck brace for a little while until her neck and back was better and healed from the accident.  I was in awe.  She let out a sarcastic laugh as if she couldn’t believe it herself.  She kept repeating to me that she couldn’t believe the baby didn’t have a scratch.  She repeated to me a few times, “Ain’t dat something, the baby didn’t have a scratch. I gots some broken ribs.  God bless her soul, ain’t dat something?”  I expressed how amazed I was that she was sitting and telling me the story only 2 weeks after the accident.  I asked her if she was in pain and Mrs. Holly explained to me that she was in a little bit of pain that day but it was no more than what she goes through on a regular basis.  I was confused.  I asked her what she meant by that and she told me that she has cancer. 

     She proceeds to tell me that she has cancer throughout her body.  She tells me that after the accident the cancer spread into her neck, back, and while she’s telling me she’s signaling to all the places the cancer has caused her grief and pain.  She can hardly move that well but still she tries to point down to her lower legs and feet.  She tells me that she gets cancer treatments weekly and that it makes her tired.  She said her bones hurt.  Again, I was in awe.  She said that she needed the treatment and it was the only thing keeping her alive, and it was the only thing killing her.  I was speechless.  I could see the discoloration of her skin and patches of brown wrinkled skin that were darker than other parts of her face.  She pointed to the patches and told me, “Look, you don’t see what its doin to me?”  She was so comfortable with telling me and so confident it seemed, I was struck by her strength and her will.  I told her I that I could see the patches on her skin.  Her hands were three times darker than parts of her face.  Also, I could see where the cancer treatment or the cancer itself had caused deformities to her in her lips.  It looked as if she had a fat lip on the left side of her mouth and one of her eyes was not as wide open and as beautiful as the other.  I said nothing and only listened. She continued to tell me about her hospital stays and how she had to wait to return home because the hospital in Syracuse would not release her until she was better.  Finally I said to her, “Mrs. Holly, how do you do it?”  She told me she didn’t know and that she had plenty things in life she dealt with before her cancer that were more painful.

      Immediately I asked her what could have been more painful than the cancer and the car accident.  She looked back at me and said losing my son.  I cringed as if the question should have never been asked.  She asked me if I remember her grandson, the big autistic man that entered the store time to time.  I told her that I did.  She said that his father – her son - committed suicide.  She told me that he shot himself while home one day.  She said to me, “He ain’t wanna live no mo’” She explained he was a good man and that she believed it was partly the reason her grandson was the way he is today.  She said her grandson didn’t say a word for years, and that she was the first person he ever spoke to after his father’s death.  He was in the house when his father took his own life.  She said that the mother was no good and abusive to her grandson and reassured me that when her son was alive he would stop the mother from abusing their son.  She said the boy, who was now a man, would not have been as troubled and quiet if her son had been around today.  She told me that her son would of never let that happen.  She expressed that she believes the wife was the reason her son took his life.  I passed no judgment and could only sense the tragedy she explained. 

    

     She told me how he did it.  Mrs. Holly was the one to find him after taking a potion of his head off with a shotgun.  All I could think was: how could a mother find her son in such a way? How could she cope with life herself after that?  She seemed to be at peace with it and explained that she loves her grandson who she cannot have a conversation with but cooks him pancakes because that is what he likes to eat, pancakes.  She explained that her grandson wouldn’t eat for months after the father took his life until Mrs. Holly started feeding him pancakes, and now that is all he will eat for the most part.  She told me that family and caretakers would call and complain to Mrs. Holly that her grandson would not talk and he would not eat, and that they refused to keep cooking him pancakes as she suggested.  They would tell her that it wasn’t any good for a little boy to eat pancakes all the time and that he could not survive on those alone.  The autistic man is now in his 40s and has lived on pancakes, bacon, and sometimes some eggs since he was a child thanks to Mrs. Holly.  The man is big too, not obese at all.  He is a big, tall, strong man, and not a being I would want to wrestle with honestly.  I sat, listened, and I was in awe.

     Mrs. Holly told me so much during the bus ride I couldn’t help but to think about her life and mine and think of all the blessings her and I were given.  She had a hard life.  She explained her aunt was 98 years old and still alive.  She said that her aunt often called her and told her to come visit.  She told me that her aunt was one of twenty children and the only one left.  Mrs. Holly explained that all twenty children came from the same man her grand mother’s first husband.  Mrs. Holly laughed when she told me her grandmother remarried after that.  She says to me, “Can you believe that?  Remarried after twenty children.”  I looked back at her shaking my head and laughed with her. I told her that it was beautiful having twenty children but it must have been hard.  Really, I couldn’t imagine.  Mrs. Holly explained that she was one of three children and that she had a good life, her and her sisters.  She explained that they were raised in the Carolinas and that she had to ring chicken’s necks when she was eight and let them dance until they were dead.  She laughed at the look on my face.  She said that her grandmother used to whoop her with a wet iron chord but that was not the worst of it.  She said that the worst part was how her grandmother used to hold them tight between her legs while she did it.  She expressed that holding her between her legs was worse than getting the wet iron cord: go figure.  She laughed again and expressed that she had a good life though when she thought about it.

     All I could think of was the pain and the hurt a person can endure in life and how amazing Mrs. Holly was to sit and share hers with me.  To sit and trust me with her story was a blessing in of itself.  She was/is a show of strength to me, and she is a reminder to remember the gifts that God has given me to the day.  She is a reminder of pain and happiness wrapped in a person and how the human soul can still be lit by sparks of spirituality.  She reminds me that complaining will get me nowhere, and that looking down on myself and self pity are sin. Mrs. Holly reminds me that feeling sick, is not a reason to be sick, and that being sick, is not a reason to feel sick.  She is a testament of strength.  How can I be as strong as she?  Will I ever have the courage and the will to carry on as she does every day?  She reminds me that prayer and gratitude will move my feet and fill my heart.  Quite honestly she said so much to me that day on the bus that I was moved in so many ways and touched beyond belief I tried my best not to tear and in front of her.  I was successful in that I did not cry outright, but inside I cried joy and pain for her like I haven’t in a long time.  Mrs. Holly is a person I will never forget as long as I live and will always hope to see again.  Knowing that her days are numbered I often worry about her and if I will not know when she has left us.  However I know that when she does leave the physical she will be in goods hands and she will look down on me and remember the talks we had.  She’ll remember the young man that listened, the young man that paid close attention, the young man that sat next to her on the #16 bus.

The Tragedy Of Love

Soon I will face the anniversary of tragedy.

It has it’s own way of waking me.

It shakes me by the shoulder, and the surprise is crushing.

Unexpected, the belief in it all, is impossibly simple.

Concisely confusing, it is brief in its form and non-comprehensive.

Seeming tangible but it is not.

A fading existence, trying to hold on to memories

Memories appear misty and become translucent.

With an eager eye as if it were a reaching hand, I look.

 With hopes to hold on to what is left of it all.

Let go and let HIM.

Let HIM hold onto the treasures that pain me.

Let HIM hold down the rising tides that rush my shores and salt my shell.

Let go and allow myself,

Allow myself to gain understanding so that he may grant me direction.

So that HE may lead me through the tragedy of LOVE and its clutches.