Power of the Puddy

Often women ask me why am I still single. I often find myself in the mirror asking the same question. But, after all the debates and careful considerations, I realize that I am single because of the Puddy. Yes, I could say that sex is a powerful weapon but that would be the Power of another sort. In this case the Puddy is not what you may think...Puddy, is an event. A reaction to the ultimate knee dropping prospect, realistic or faux...

Here's an example of what I am getting at.

"Hey, Jim you seem to be a good lookin brother, got your stuff together...why are you single"

Response:

"Well......, it isn't that simple, I am just trying to find Mrs. Right...(blah, blah, blah)"

Where's the Puddy in this statement? Mrs. Right? I am just Trying? hell no! The Puddy is the thought prior to the first Word and the comma, and within the long pause prior to the "exspla-nasion". Puddy is the thought of marriage, the thought of settling down with someone. Puddy is so powerfull that it outweighs the Pu$$...well I don't need to go to much further...I just gave it a name to confuse you of course. But, as I sit here I realize that a brother's pause after the infamous "Why" question is very important to his ID. Alpha males are cool and relaxed with their response. While their anxious counterparts are often perplexed and fill in the blanks with a rapid fire of excuses. The puddy is just a situation that most of us "momma's boys" find ourselves in. We want to marry someone like our Momma, Grandaunties and 4th grade teachers. Of course we need that comfort and conditioning of a nurturing woman, but she has to be a closet freak as well. (SEE KIDS don't Kiss Mommy blog) But. The pause...is so interesting. How can you sum up a life's search in one sentence? It is almost like asking a Virgin why she chooses to stray away from the bedroom. To most men, marriage is a matter of the heart. We take the knee in order to promise the path of righteousness. But the power of the Puddy keeps us at arms length from our chosen path. Actually we never really have the answer. We just know what we want...but it is so hard to describe. The Puddy...Potential of Underestimating the Dramatic Detailed "Yes"!
How do you propose, who picks out the ring, is she capable of blending in with the family, do I really care, why should I be the one to change, what about her looks, can she cook, does she always snore like that, ...I could keep writing the details but the bottom line...The Puddy is what causes the scrutiny, the judgement and in somecases the abuse.

It is so powerful. But so easy to answer...just choose one. not two or three...just one.
But which? when and how...

What you find at the club stays at the club...What you find at the church lives at the church...
lurk late strike straight. Good with the money tight with the tummy. The total number of shoes equals the number of problems in her life. Constantly shopping never satisfied with what she has...

Get the picture...

en peace

Ray

It is he who...

Tuggin at my soul he is,
control has my mind twisted,
I awake steady.

Rolling deep into the midst of my minds inner core,
the crow applauds just a bit more,
still my pocket remains torn.

As witty as roadkill,
wiser than humankind
bitter and sweat. sublime.

Why? Ask me tomorrow.
When? Yesterday.
Who? No one
How? Wisdom.

Truth comes forth daily,
Passion commeth with the lad,
Administer the lesson and learn the word.
Terror is in the law of opposite thinking.

en peace.

Sledgehammer to the chest...

Lets just say that I'll be hangin' around the ATL a little bit longer than I expected. 2nd place sucks. But, hey can I get something for this sledgehammer dent in my chest? Arghhhh. Back to the drawing board...

Scattered Showers, ptly cloudy 42º.

What god has for me is ment to be...there aren't any problems in life, just plans.

I guess I'll have an "eye" on "fox" hunting or perhaps, I'll just purchase some "TNT".

Meanwhile...back to the maps.

en peace.

wait watcher

I "hait" to wait. Waiting in line, waiting to go out, waiting to eat, waiting for job opportunities to reveal the answer...need I say more?

The debate:
I waited for time to end, and it never came.
What a drag. I watched the sun slowly take a nightime bath,
and it came up the next day with dew and humidity.
What a drag. I soaked in the shower for about a half an hour,
and I came out cold and shivering at 12:31. Hot water is a drag.
Hows about a sport where both teams win. couldn't have that now could we, that just wouldn't be american.
I once went to a church, I waited for Jesus and I never saw him.
I talked to God though, but I had to wait for his answer...what a drag. But I'm glad. Glad that I could see the sun, feel the morning glory dew drops on my brow, Take a shower and come out clean, stress free, relaxed and a little less mean.
If only I can find a sport where everyone wins...unless you can call life a sport.
Always count on Jesus and we all win in the end...or you could just watch MTV and burn in hell.

en peace.

Growing Gray day by day

Back in the 1900's, my grandmother used to serve me breakfast in the morning. The pancakes were a golden burnt color, the eggs scrambled and the bacon crispy. I was a king in the small bungalo on Stansbury. Me, my Atari and the TV would spend hours together until my back would just give out. Once that took place I would sit on the porch with my Grandfather and mimic all of his motions and actions. We would watch the neighbors work on their cars, the kids downn the street sell their nickle bags of weed. We would occasionally peek at the desperate housewives down the street. It moved along so quickly, the days of old. Now I'm in the middle-aged portion of my life and I often find a strange barrier that separates me from the boy on the porch and the buisness professional behind the desk. No smart ass it isn't the gut. Pan up, zoom in and focus on these little gray pieces of wisdom growing on my dome.

Gray hair. Common for the family. In fact my grandfather had a full head of gray hair for as long as I can remember. It was salt and pepper for a while come to think of it, but as he grew closer to 70 + he became all grey quickly. And now, here I sit typing away and the gray hair just continues to grow and grow. The stress can't be the source of gray hair. The wisdom should be, but if that is the case I am certainly due for a few more. Despite my boastful thoughts, I am still rocking a tight taper with a back fade and the gray hair just adds to my overall sexy. Especially in my beard. You got it. Welcome to the 30something crowd. There is no turning back. and the grays...well lets just hope they slow down a tad.

Gone are the days in the dark, it seems we two must part.
waves of gray stimulate my day, while situations become works of art.
My temple grows old, rusty molds seem to invade every pore.
Yet my alter, my soul seems to still be in control yearning for days of ancient lore.
Criminals seem odd, children a blessing while arguments become tools of fools.
Leadership is grand and grays are bland in a field of negro wool.
I cultivate my lust, keep mobile eyes keen, but dream of leaving this scene.
But day by day, I am still this way and the time ticks with another instalment of gray.
No bling, this ring is still locked in my mind.
Make time, get active, grow old become a baptist. All seems like water under the bridge.
Yet older minds know the gray will grow, despite the troublesome times.

en peach