porn is bad, mmmk

For a while there, I was one of those guys
where big breasts, curvy booty, and open thighs
were what it took to catch my eyes.
And it took my return to Church and God to realize that
society was taking me on a ride to perversion that
I was raised to have an aversion to.
So I decided to rewrite my story…
a new version with a submersion into the
real and good and right instead of the fake and bad and trite.

Society, what gives you the right to dictate what it takes to make my dick straight!?

A perverted pandemic is sweeping the planet in the form of fake girl-on-girl action and midgets wearing spandex and yeah, we laugh. But the reality is fifty percent of American marriages are ending in divorce, the source for some lying in the fact that men fantasize about women who aren’t their wives. And some of these wives struggle all their lives to actualize what he fantasizes about, without realizing that those fantasies are computerized. And these wives end up doubting themselves, names on the dotted lines evidence of a feeling that they are inadequate.


“Dude, that girl is hot!” You idiot, haven’t you ever heard of photoshop? Some dude can sit in his parents’ basement and make Dog the Bounty Hunter look like Giselle Bundchen, just clicking away on his mouse, munchin’ on potato chips and thinking about what’s going to happen on World of Warcraft later that day. People look at pornography as demeaning to women, which is absolutely is, whether women head the company or not, while being blind to the men who have to deal with an addiction proven to be stonger than heroin. So fellas, next time you’re with a female friend (with whom you are comfortable and who has seen porn), ask her if the average woman truly needs to make THAT MUCH NOISE when she’s having an orgasm. No wonder so many happily married couples are dissatisfied with their sex lives. They strive to achieve and pornographically unachievable level of ecstasy while failing to recognize what their partner truly wants.

Like I said, I used to be one of those guys where big breasts, curvy booty, and open things were what it took to catch my eyes. But I realized that this wasn’t me. Because the real me, the one that wanted to be the doctor, the teacher, or the mentor couldn’t stand talking to girls who conversed about as well as a front door. I need an intellectual woman. And I knew I was beginning to change when seeing scantily clad women, which used to give me a “tizzle in my pizzle,” now just made me feel sick a little, because a girl who doesn’t respect herself will eventually wreck herself (thank you 1995).

I grew up singing and writing, using words to express myself instead of sports. And lo and behold, what should unfold but an ugly duckling story of sorts. See, God gave me a gift with which to exhibit my thoughts. My poetry is not just poetry, I call it flow-etry because it flows from me so fluidly, allowing me the opportunity to stimulate you…not sexually, but intellectually, ceaselessly, until you…come…hard…to the realization that you’re finally more to me than just a fantasy of breasts, booty, and thighs. You’re an individual mind. And I’m more than the nerdy, goofy kid who still laughs at fart jokes and gets excited about grammar. I’m an artist, and I want to decorate your mind’s eye with pictures painted by words and ideas etched with metaphor.