Author Information
My Life
Began in 1977, born to a single mother who had come to
the Great Land of Prosperity when rumors of a civil war
began in her native country, which I had the privilege of
visiting with her and my dad recently.
She was twenty-six years of age when I was conceived;
she was independent with a broken heart and a lioness
determination to prosper; she said that my birth gave
her the strength to carry on without my father.
At thirty five years, I find myself in the verge of
exploring the greatest chapter of my life; the rhythm of
another heartbeat, the rhyme to my reason for living. A
desire always wished for, I should've been more specific
when I began wishing.
Today, I must swallow my pride, and carry my head up
high, sober if I can. Mother knows best, but I see that she
is skeptical about my interest in what I must invest in.
My life use to revolve around her, but never at my best.
The best of me she lived when I was her baby, her
newborn son.
She invested her life and soul in me. I was her sun and
moon, the hope for a better tomorrow; at times I feel she
invested in the wrong sibling, but once she told me I hurt
her the most (I never knew what she meant) until now.
My troubles began with the move to Fresno in 1992; in
tenth grade I was taken away from my environment, my
friends, the life I lived in Rosemead,Ca. I rebelled to the
point of her telling me to leave the house at the age of
seventeen; two weeks after graduating from High School.
I was not a bad boy, gang affiliated, thieve, condescending
liar, maybe! I was a monster with bad habits and addictions.
Some which lingered at came back from time to time. Once
an addict always an addict; we all have an addiction, it may
not be drugs necessarily; however, its an ambition that you
go out of your way for. I wonder when my tolerance for
poetry will die?
As long as I'm fighting for survival, living, and breathing my
addiction to blank pages will never cease. A drug that has
kept me wired to existence, committed to research the soul
of mankind beginning with mind. I think about what my
mother thought when she first held me in her arms, who did
she think I was going to become? not a perfect son I'm sure.
My life was her's to live by, to die for, she made sure I had
everything I needed to survive. Sometimes I hear her cry and
ask her God, to please have mercy over me, to always guide
me through in the streets. Til this day I am convince her
prayers keep me alive.
Mother has done her best to keep me straight like an arrow,
yet I have bent like plastic and broken like glass with a heart
that never sleeps and a mind that escapes reality, causing my
mentality to push the boundaries of time and space. January
23, 2014 is projected for me to become anew. I want my
mother to be proud of me, show her that the man she loved
once who's name I carry I will not be. I feel that this is when
her and I will become closer then eve before.
My life belongs to my expected future and my mother, always
and forever! "Mother, I will make you proud, in my life time.
When you die you will know your purpose in has been served.
I love mom."
