Home. I've always wanted to go home. Realizing I'm the last living member of what I was given as a family and unwanted by them as long as I have memories stored, I know that family in the real sense of it, I'll never have. I wanted a family so bad. To have ppl that wanted to see me coming. To have people that took my side when things went wrong for me. Ppl to give me advice truly meant for my benefit, not on how to act to appease a others family. Of course I still don't have that. But I have had the kind of life that has accepted it. And I have a wonderful family now even though in reality it's not mine. I don't have that fear for the 1st time. Then, 10 months ago they found my son dead. Something happened to me. I can feel it. I know it's there but I can't tell what it is. It's destroyed me. When I saw him laying there. I .. I'm not the same now. I want to live, laugh and love. But at the same time I don't. I lost my brother few months after. My job couple months before. My father in law passed 2 months ago and now we live in another town with my mother in law. I'm struggling. Justice was my son. My wife or anyone here never met him. So they don't know. And if I break down it'll only cause them to be upset and I'm already nothing more than a burden. I stay to myself. I make little spots in the garage or back porch to sit. If I go inside to try and have some contact with them they pause the t.v. as if I'm interrupting whatever they're watching. Even though I've mentioned that was rude and personally I would rather rewind my show in 2023 as opposed to making them feel that way. But I feel safe, for now. I hope I can neat this, whatever it is. I'll only be as valuable as what I can bring to the table. At least I know

He looks at me. Not in my eye, but he thinks he is. What does he see? Perhaps he sees the struggle of his ancestors in my strokes. Or could he see love upon my canvas? Colors familiar, yet hue unknown. I tease him. A lady has now stopped to look at me. She however is looking directly into my eyes. Can she see them? She stares as if listening to me. I tell her of violence and deviant love. She is captivated, as was my masters intent.what am I to them? A boy strolls by, and almost passes me before his peripheral tricks his fancy into thinking of things curious. I see confusion as he looks for common feature to expose my hiding place. And something more when he fails to do so. What am I? What am I to them? . I am billowing waves of August percale. Beckoning as to a child, to run through with outstretched hands so that i may touch them. I'm conflagration, a raging chaos not yet named. I am summer, Yet I am spring. In me all things ate possible, and all things denied. I am soliloquy. I am the words spoken to only you as you see me. I am your imagination. In my broad strokes. My lines seemingly undirected. My colors bold yet fluid against offended motion. I am abstract. I am different, and yet familiar to everyone

Cunning.

Looking not so keen, but perhaps a little mean. If you step around to look at different angles you can see a deadly sheen, not so easily perceived just on looking.

Thoughtful.

Taking stock of all I see, not a tiny thing it seems, can escape the perceptive nature of the rarely noticed beast.

Angry.

Built by sorrow and regret, not allowed to err forget, the skullduggerish effect on my being. Taking issue with myself and the way I now reflect, on how I choose to answer when Noone can see me.

Relevant.

Though you try to overlook me with your lofty entitled tude. I shall be one to remind you, of the recourse of what you choose. I sense a bit of pompous air, about your crooked grin. I choose to let that guide you, for I'm all about free men.

Dangerous.

Ah' I see curiosity, all over your halfly embarrassed face. As your nose turns down, back toward the ground, you wonder of the taste. But in my eyes, you surely see, the end as your God chose. And wonder from what man made hell, this devil hath arose.

......

I sat upon the shoulders, of my grandpa proud and true. He told there'd be lot's of men, just like the likes of you. He told me there would come a day that I must make a stand, and spent the last days of his years, to cultivate this man. The stuff that he was made of, I've scant seen across this land. He knew that I'd be tested, by my family and my foes. And just how Papa knew it, I guess I'll never know. He taught me to have compassion for the others that have needs. And taught me that I pay one day, for my wrongful deeds. He knew that I had to be tough, but soft when times need be. For he saw a different future, in the boy that became me. He gave lot's of wisdom, some I've lost throughout the years. I wish that i still had it, so i could share it with my peers. He said always make decisions, after you've thought on them a while. And never pass a chance at love, or to see your loved ones smile. You see, all the best of that great man, lives in me today. And on I'll push to see the end, no matter how far away. I'm only bound by memories, that wish to hold me still. But nothing short of death, will ever crush my will.

-Gentleman Bastard

Dark and hazy was the tale as it was told to me. I tried to clean my lenses off, in hopes to clearer see. But even though the tale was new, and flawless as can be. It's words were all I gathered and they meant not much to me. I grew to be a different man, from the one that steered my path. Seems he walked too shortly with me, on this journey, not even half. See he left something with me, that I carried all my days. Undecoded was the message, but I kept it anyways. As life turned into challenge, I searched for answers still. Not knowing is the worst of things, a person ever feels. He once said keep down your head, and grind this stone of life, don't listen to the people with no edge upon their knife. He told me not to call a lie, if the truths not known to me. And the friends men have will tell the tale of who they want to be. I wish that I had understood, much quicker than I did. And now I have to think of things, I've lost because of it. But I knew so much at that young age, that my opinions wouldn't change. The words he spoke, the life he told, were distant and somewhat strange. But years have taught me lessons that the tales he told me tried. And he took that wisdom with him, when he laid down his life. But the seeds he planted, on the wayside finally grew. So I wish to take a few of them, and pass them on to you. I doubt that you will see them grow, while your young and full of life. But you'll remember where they're planted, and you'll check them time to time. And just like winter caves to spring, the fog will drift away. And then you'll know exactly what, those stories tried to say. They'll come as revelations, as flowers in the fields. Some here, some there, some everywhere. How long have they been here? You'll reminisce as if a movie, was playing in your head. You'll wish to tell them caution, but they'll laugh at you instead. So you don your gloves and grab your bag that's now so full of seed. You take your breath and get your knife and clear out all the weeds. Soon you'll find the brush out there, is thicker than you thought. And it is so much stronger, than the mettle that you brought. You know that charging inward, would only only push away, the very ears you wish to hear, the words you want to say. So you look all around you, for a place to cultivate. This little seed you hope to plant, you know will grow too late. You watch the seed and care for it, in hope to see it grow, but be warned it may not happen, as you ready up to go. Just hope that there'll be water, and light from up above. And know that seed was planted,with every ounce of love. And when that seed starts sprouting, just know that they'll take note. And remember all the wisdom, from the tales that you spoke. And on that day just know, that they will get a cup, and collect the seeds upon the plant, you planted there with love. And with their gloves and blade in hand, they'll set out on the trail. And hope to help the next ones , with just another tale.