I love Islam and cream soda

While locked down fighting (and beating) a frame-up, I read books and did pull-ups... Here's what I polished off in 10 months (Feb-Dec '18) *disclaimer, I absolutely did indeed read every title listed. Aries Decision (Ludlum/Mills) White Rage (Carol Anderson)  must read! Black Pain (T. Williams) Rules of Betrayal Naughtier Than Nice Anthology of American Poetry (Rita Dove) Aces High

Back on September 10th, I posted an admittedly provocative picture on my Twitter, of me cutting a gag off of my mouth - one that had "Dom" written on it - with the caption "#48Days". To most, it was an obvious reference to my then-countdown to the day that I would be off of parole and able to talk freely about my ordeal with my ex-wife, Dominique. But to my man, Theo Wilson, it was an opportunity to cape for Dominique and attempt to call me out on Facebook and both get back in her good graces and look like Black-Women's-Best-Friend. All the while, he claimed to be "brotherly" to me. He must've meant "brotherly" in the sense that Cain was "brotherly" to Abel. Some background: In August, the Kasbah nightclub hosted its poetry night on a Thursday and a sister recited a poem about being molested and then pointed out an audience member (and fellow open mic performer) as apparently being the one her poem was about. This s...

On November 26, minding my own business, I got an interesting Facebook friend request.  At first glance, it looked like the typical spam request that would eventually direct me to a porn site.  Except for the locale of the person.  Generally, the spam requests come from a locale either from my profile like where I grew up, but this one was from Colorado.  It took about 4 seconds of a closer look to realize that it was my ex-wifey Dominique, after old shenanigans. And I do mean “old”.  She had only just recently catfished to me taking on the guise of a weather person working at 9News.  The same 9News that had just exposed her as a fraud and a house thief.  Dominique intended for me to click on a link that she sent that would record and send her my IP address.  Not that she could do anything with that info, especially given the fact that I don’t have a static IP address; the perks of having more than one or two hacker friends. First, I sn...

Click HERE for Part 1 I got out of prison in August of 1996 on a Friday, released early from my sentence to community based supervision in a halfway house. I was initially housed at the County Jail, awaiting bed space, and was given the opportunity the following Monday to hit the streets after 7 years. I made a bee-line to my wife’s apartment on the Eastside. I had just missed her leaving to work but the kid's were home. A bunch of hugs and high-fives later, everyone was off doing homework and chores and I stood in the living room soaking my freedom in and basking in the glow of my new castle. The responsibility didn’t escape me, though. I was a full-fledged stepdad, and my wife was also my baby mama, being a couple months pregnant at the time. “You need to protect those girls.” That edict from my Sister rung over and over again in my ears. I not only had to provide for my step-kids as head of household, I had to keep them safe from a predator (allegedly) w...

One Day, Your flattened fingertips Rubbed smooth by too many swipes Over too many screens Are going to miss me Yearning for the mottled texture of my insides I  may cut you at first - An injury of unfamiliarity But that nick will heal as i absorb your blood It shall be a token to worlds far away from here I am waiting to bear you by all sorts of magical transports That only an author can conjure Come to me hungry And let me feed you Nibble, gnaw and chew to your heart's content I am your escape I have keys to every shackle and hobble ever constructed Let me enter your veins and course through Make you addicted and detached From the Armageddon that is outside your windows Drink my Sufi wine, intoxicated by the most Divine Let my spine bear your weight as you recline For now... I live in a museum What you used to call a "library" Where I am still and dusty but wide awake and alive Waiting for your fingers to honor and humor me In exchange...

I am going to talk I've been back to prison for parole revocations twice now, because I was upfront, vocal, and honest about why I first went to prison in 2013. Simply put, I went because my ex-wife Dominique made false claims of domestic violence against me. Claims that began falling apart as my case progressed. However, in the middle of my marital turmoil, I made attempts at reconciling with Dominique, despite the fact of being barred from interacting with her by automatic protection order. That love-blind decision came back to bite my behind when, as her hoax began to unravel, the DA salvaged her prosecution by filling 19 cases of misdemeanor violation of protection order. I was literally facing an unprecedented 19 years in the county jail. It seemed improbable, if not absurd, until another local defendant made news being sentenced to an unprecedented county jail sentence of over 10 years. Long story short, I took a deal for an "open" sentence, expecting proba...