I’m thinking about my son.

I am thinking about my son. Born second and yet first.

I’ve been sitting and meditating. And meditation is such fun to me.

For when I meditate. I totally let go and let god rearrange my mind. By opening up new angles and viewpoints.

Some. Very dark.

Yet wise at the same time.

If I were to describe what kind of soul I am.

First I would claim being a Dragon.

Mixed with Jesus. Of course.

I would claim angel.

Both dark and light.

Benevolent at my core.




Yet clean as driven snow.


Pointed. Taloned.

Yet the touch as light as a feather.

Until ribeled. If that’s even a word?

Fired up.

Packin’ Heat. You forgot about?

And back to David’s birth. A man child.

With his dick hanging out

Not tucked in.

A precious one among men.

Woven between woman.

Made with men.

Taught by a sharp and tender hand.

Eyes sharp as razors.

He know his targets.

Sharp shooter.

Got his first warning.

While trying to be born into this world

Of feminine disrespecters . How ever it’s spelled.

It was my body that wrapped that life line around his neck. Thrice.

Be a good boy my darling.

This place is treacherous.

But Mama will guide you.

Heed this warning.

I love you

Man of my heart.

Be the David I know you are.

I never even noticed.

Thinking it was he who was twirled up in me?

Yet was it not?

Flesh of flesh.

The warning about safety.

And marking him to never forget

To respect and love the mother

Who gave away a piece of her heart

To a man child.

Own it.

Be respectful





Proud. Not boastful

Even if I test you.

Trained by woman

So much a good man.

Child no more.

Must of mixed up a pretty good brew

The day I let god

Make you


my little cowboy.

All grown up.

Yet still a boyish man.

Not a crime?

Hell no.

A testimony to the power of the women.

Who love this man.


twisted tales make a mind think.

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