I feel the urgency to purge. So shut up, stop thinkin', sit back, and read.
I am Dennis "iJonesy" Jones. I am a creator. I am created. I am a talented male of color. These eyes have saw more struggle then they reveal. These eyes are the epitome of deep brown. These eyes will let you in or leave you knocking.
These lips have forced many smiles. Cursed many people. These lips have kissed an angel with the most pretty wings. These lips have comforted and spoken true love. These lips have liberated, and torn down. These lips have spoken lies, and been wet from the tears of sorrow.These lips are contradicting...
These cheeks. These cheeks have been bright red in embarassment. They have been blush after a compliment. The reveal my dimples. They have been sore from laughing, wet from crying, ached for talkin alot. These Cheeks... These cheeks...
These ears have heard the best of news to the loudest of screams. The sweetest music to the loudest explosion. Accidentally recieved the faint breath of a angel. These ears have listened to all of the problems. They have burned and turned red from jealousy.
Theses arms have lifted the impossible while carrying the weight of the world. They have been touched an sent into an immediate chill. They have shaken from Muscle Failure, and bled from mistakes. Squeezed tightly, and held loosley.
Theses Legs have ran thousands of miles, and walked double. They have been sore from the result of no car. They shine even though they are hairy and they keep me light. They dangle from a parachute harness as I leap from a plane, and when I ake contact with the ground they support me still.
These Hands, Oh boy theses hand. My favorite part. My hands are me. Man/Soldier/lover/fighter. These hands are the outlet of my brain. They touch in the sweetest way, and they cause the worst pain. They ache from typing, and go numb when i support my head with them through the night. The make the best music, and throw the straightest of blows. These hands wonder. They search and destroy. They assist but they can force. My brain once put my hands through 12 hours of purging. Not once did they complain. Truth is my brain tapped out first.
"Take my body its yours" Look past the distorted image media and the tainted of society have put on this, and see it for what it is. This body is yours. You can have these ears, the lips, the cheeks. You can have it all. If I say "lets make love" that means I want to absorb all of you as you do I. Nothing less, but alot more.
I write what I write for a reason. If it doesnt make sense to you then you wer not meant to be touched by it. Try another one of my "typings". But if you were then this is you. Simply, react. I can type all day, but you hear me..
iJonesy
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The Soldier Who Walks With His Head Down
I said to myself. This will be your most thought out yet. For once I said. Fuck the reader. I don’t care how lengthy it is or how many words I type.
I sit here and I am conflicted within myself. That’s the worst by the way. Arguing with the person who knows you best… You. It is May 14, 2009 here as of now I don’t know what I am going to title this. I know I want to reveal. That a once very close friend to me. His birth day was May 13th. I initially opened his Facebook profile to say “You are the luckiest, you got to come out of ya sexy mama’s vagina on this day… Let’s trade.” See Bennett’s mother is extremely beautiful. It was an inside joke with the athletes of Northwest. What I saw floored me that day, 1830 May 13 2009. I saw people wishing him a happy birthday, followed by R.I.P... For the record. That profile is still on my screen. I am not sure of when it happens, but I know how, and it makes me cherish life. A little more.
Why am I conflicted? I feel like I am trying to excuse myself for not knowing. There is no excuse. I am in Iraq, had I kept in touch, said hello. Didn’t wait till his birthday. Or holidays. Maybe I would have known. I know people live and die. But for a friend to die and you not know it. Wow, I can’t help but wonder if he is angry with me for not knowing. Not talking to him as much. But then again. He is Bennett the easiest going person in the world. Seriously…
Before every situation that molds me in my life happens. I have the weirdest feeling. I have millions of thoughts. I actually recorded them this time. I wrote over 6 blogs and A 12 chapter book in 2 days. I thought it was my way of purging. I thought finally, without writers block. My brain was bleeding. I let it. 20 years of suppressed emotion came out. After the massive headache, and the dead sleep. I felt so relieved I smiled all of May 12 2009. I had purged. And I had shared my story…
I felt like a horrible friend when I found this out. It took some of my friends from my past reminding me of good times. Fun times. How innocent youth was, and how taken for granted it was, but we did it and enjoyed it. How we were so silly, and mostly how Bennett and I were not the only people to fall out of touch… Touché friends… Touché
My career, as of now it keeps me out of touch. I was here when Bennett died. This is ultimately my 1st excuse in my book. I don’t have much to say in this paragraph. It’s my career. I enjoy it, but even the people who have their dream job. I.E. rappers, pro athletes. Even they have days when they hate their job. This is mine.
Nija told me in a comment on FB. I always had a way with words. Christian absorbs her in everything I write. Natalie said I have the gift of expression. My mother says I like MLK so much because like him I can move people. I can sway people. An ex called me manipulative in a good way. I didn’t know there was a thing. A fight instructor told me I should be a lawyer because I can destroy people with words. Anne Jones told me I was destined to be a man of god I used perfect analogies, and was born “bible based”. Leaders tell me I am a good leader, and I don’t even try to be. Friends say I liberate them. Natalie said I changed her. Christian, loves me.
I feel as if I have said enough. One day my stat read on facebook. If u looks down when you walk you are conceited. Someone asked me why I always looked down when I walked. I do. I look at my shadow though. So I was called conceited. But On May 14, 2009 I didn’t. I got out of my bed, and I needed air. I grabbed my hat and eye protection and I got up and walked. The stale, dusty air of Iraq was fresh that night. I looked down as I walked. My hands were in my pocket, I had taken off my hat and shoved it in my pocket. Nothing but glasses on. “And no shit there I was” in the middle of Iraq with no weapon. I was a walking target for UCMJ. Uniform Code of Military Justice. As I walked. A soldier I joke with all the time came behind me. He said “ I could have taken your life” I saw him waayyy before he walked beside me. But took my life. That drew tears. TAKE my life. My life ends. Bennett’s life ended. On earth anyway. It ended before May 13 2009. That was the day he seized to exist on this planet to me. That’s the day Bennett died. That’s the day I walked with my head down, hmph, but I wasn’t looking at my shadow.
I sit here and I am conflicted within myself. That’s the worst by the way. Arguing with the person who knows you best… You. It is May 14, 2009 here as of now I don’t know what I am going to title this. I know I want to reveal. That a once very close friend to me. His birth day was May 13th. I initially opened his Facebook profile to say “You are the luckiest, you got to come out of ya sexy mama’s vagina on this day… Let’s trade.” See Bennett’s mother is extremely beautiful. It was an inside joke with the athletes of Northwest. What I saw floored me that day, 1830 May 13 2009. I saw people wishing him a happy birthday, followed by R.I.P... For the record. That profile is still on my screen. I am not sure of when it happens, but I know how, and it makes me cherish life. A little more.
Why am I conflicted? I feel like I am trying to excuse myself for not knowing. There is no excuse. I am in Iraq, had I kept in touch, said hello. Didn’t wait till his birthday. Or holidays. Maybe I would have known. I know people live and die. But for a friend to die and you not know it. Wow, I can’t help but wonder if he is angry with me for not knowing. Not talking to him as much. But then again. He is Bennett the easiest going person in the world. Seriously…
Before every situation that molds me in my life happens. I have the weirdest feeling. I have millions of thoughts. I actually recorded them this time. I wrote over 6 blogs and A 12 chapter book in 2 days. I thought it was my way of purging. I thought finally, without writers block. My brain was bleeding. I let it. 20 years of suppressed emotion came out. After the massive headache, and the dead sleep. I felt so relieved I smiled all of May 12 2009. I had purged. And I had shared my story…
I felt like a horrible friend when I found this out. It took some of my friends from my past reminding me of good times. Fun times. How innocent youth was, and how taken for granted it was, but we did it and enjoyed it. How we were so silly, and mostly how Bennett and I were not the only people to fall out of touch… Touché friends… Touché
My career, as of now it keeps me out of touch. I was here when Bennett died. This is ultimately my 1st excuse in my book. I don’t have much to say in this paragraph. It’s my career. I enjoy it, but even the people who have their dream job. I.E. rappers, pro athletes. Even they have days when they hate their job. This is mine.
Nija told me in a comment on FB. I always had a way with words. Christian absorbs her in everything I write. Natalie said I have the gift of expression. My mother says I like MLK so much because like him I can move people. I can sway people. An ex called me manipulative in a good way. I didn’t know there was a thing. A fight instructor told me I should be a lawyer because I can destroy people with words. Anne Jones told me I was destined to be a man of god I used perfect analogies, and was born “bible based”. Leaders tell me I am a good leader, and I don’t even try to be. Friends say I liberate them. Natalie said I changed her. Christian, loves me.
I feel as if I have said enough. One day my stat read on facebook. If u looks down when you walk you are conceited. Someone asked me why I always looked down when I walked. I do. I look at my shadow though. So I was called conceited. But On May 14, 2009 I didn’t. I got out of my bed, and I needed air. I grabbed my hat and eye protection and I got up and walked. The stale, dusty air of Iraq was fresh that night. I looked down as I walked. My hands were in my pocket, I had taken off my hat and shoved it in my pocket. Nothing but glasses on. “And no shit there I was” in the middle of Iraq with no weapon. I was a walking target for UCMJ. Uniform Code of Military Justice. As I walked. A soldier I joke with all the time came behind me. He said “ I could have taken your life” I saw him waayyy before he walked beside me. But took my life. That drew tears. TAKE my life. My life ends. Bennett’s life ended. On earth anyway. It ended before May 13 2009. That was the day he seized to exist on this planet to me. That’s the day Bennett died. That’s the day I walked with my head down, hmph, but I wasn’t looking at my shadow.
Emotional Rape. (Good Addiction)
Ready. Ready is so meaningful in this situation. I am a believer of good addictions. Right addictions. Being addicted to work is good. Being addicted to the word is good. Being addicted to love… The right love... I don’t know if you were able to tell the difference in the addictions. The one she had for her oppressor and the one she had for that mystery guy.
Back to ready. He, that rock He was ready. She… in his eyes she was skeptical. He showed her. There is better, and that she was settling, but he did it in a sense to where it would take her forever to realize it. She was freed from her oppressor, and he was still ready. Still strong. Still solid. Fear has never been an option to him. Never had the time for it. But this scared him. Happiness presented itself, but behind every good time. There is a bad. The bad is what he was not prepared for.
But he was addicted… That “I gotta make you smile.” You have to be happy, addiction. That never too late, addiction. That sweat in your sleep addiction. The one where you find yourself thinking addiction. You think about it all the time, addiction. You begin to wonder about her sex moan addiction. Being engulfed in her love, addiction. Swimming in her river, if I may. Owning, sharing.
He dreamed about her on the regular. He imagined life with her. What the kids would look like… She was damaged, but she didn’t know he was too… She loved him. She couldn’t admit it. She found herself openly expressing emotion towards him. Using the word please. Her walls were penetrated. He is an extremist though. He wanted to take and conquer in a sense. Not hold hostage. I guess He wanted it to be the irreversible Stockholm Syndrome. A hole wasn’t enough. He wanted that house. He saw that house over and over again, but only from the outside. So peeking through that hole he decided he wanted. He had to have it. He wanted those walls down. That place was so beautiful. He wanted to expose it to the world so that now every soul that passed it by could see. See what that passed by or took for granted.
He was addicted. That beginners addicted. Had to have it. That pull her hair and bite her neck addiction. That… touch. That lingering smell. That look. That exhale. That daydream. That type well over 900 words. That blabber. That… Addiction……
Back to ready. He, that rock He was ready. She… in his eyes she was skeptical. He showed her. There is better, and that she was settling, but he did it in a sense to where it would take her forever to realize it. She was freed from her oppressor, and he was still ready. Still strong. Still solid. Fear has never been an option to him. Never had the time for it. But this scared him. Happiness presented itself, but behind every good time. There is a bad. The bad is what he was not prepared for.
But he was addicted… That “I gotta make you smile.” You have to be happy, addiction. That never too late, addiction. That sweat in your sleep addiction. The one where you find yourself thinking addiction. You think about it all the time, addiction. You begin to wonder about her sex moan addiction. Being engulfed in her love, addiction. Swimming in her river, if I may. Owning, sharing.
He dreamed about her on the regular. He imagined life with her. What the kids would look like… She was damaged, but she didn’t know he was too… She loved him. She couldn’t admit it. She found herself openly expressing emotion towards him. Using the word please. Her walls were penetrated. He is an extremist though. He wanted to take and conquer in a sense. Not hold hostage. I guess He wanted it to be the irreversible Stockholm Syndrome. A hole wasn’t enough. He wanted that house. He saw that house over and over again, but only from the outside. So peeking through that hole he decided he wanted. He had to have it. He wanted those walls down. That place was so beautiful. He wanted to expose it to the world so that now every soul that passed it by could see. See what that passed by or took for granted.
He was addicted. That beginners addicted. Had to have it. That pull her hair and bite her neck addiction. That… touch. That lingering smell. That look. That exhale. That daydream. That type well over 900 words. That blabber. That… Addiction……
Emotional Rape. (Good Addiction)
Ready. Ready is so meaningful in this situation. I am a believer of good addictions. Right addictions. Being addicted to work is good. Being addicted to the word is good. Being addicted to love… The right love... I don’t know if you were able to tell the difference in the addictions. The one she had for her oppressor and the one she had for that mystery guy.
Back to ready. He, that rock He was ready. She… in his eyes she was skeptical. He showed her. There is better, and that she was settling, but he did it in a sense to where it would take her forever to realize it. She was freed from her oppressor, and he was still ready. Still strong. Still solid. Fear has never been an option to him. Never had the time for it. But this scared him. Happiness presented itself, but behind every good time. There is a bad. The bad is what he was not prepared for.
But he was addicted… That “I gotta make you smile.” You have to be happy, addiction. That never too late, addiction. That sweat in your sleep addiction. The one where you find yourself thinking addiction. You think about it all the time, addiction. You begin to wonder about her sex moan addiction. Being engulfed in her love, addiction. Swimming in her river, if I may. Owning, sharing.
He dreamed about her on the regular. He imagined life with her. What the kids would look like… She was damaged, but she didn’t know he was too… She loved him. She couldn’t admit it. She found herself openly expressing emotion towards him. Using the word please. Her walls were penetrated. He is an extremist though. He wanted to take and conquer in a sense. Not hold hostage. I guess He wanted it to be the irreversible Stockholm Syndrome. A hole wasn’t enough. He wanted that house. He saw that house over and over again, but only from the outside. So peeking through that hole he decided he wanted. He had to have it. He wanted those walls down. That place was so beautiful. He wanted to expose it to the world so that now every soul that passed it by could see. See what that passed by or took for granted.
He was addicted. That beginners addicted. Had to have it. That pull her hair and bite her neck addiction. That… touch. That lingering smell. That look. That exhale. That daydream. That type well over 900 words. That blabber. That… Addiction……
Back to ready. He, that rock He was ready. She… in his eyes she was skeptical. He showed her. There is better, and that she was settling, but he did it in a sense to where it would take her forever to realize it. She was freed from her oppressor, and he was still ready. Still strong. Still solid. Fear has never been an option to him. Never had the time for it. But this scared him. Happiness presented itself, but behind every good time. There is a bad. The bad is what he was not prepared for.
But he was addicted… That “I gotta make you smile.” You have to be happy, addiction. That never too late, addiction. That sweat in your sleep addiction. The one where you find yourself thinking addiction. You think about it all the time, addiction. You begin to wonder about her sex moan addiction. Being engulfed in her love, addiction. Swimming in her river, if I may. Owning, sharing.
He dreamed about her on the regular. He imagined life with her. What the kids would look like… She was damaged, but she didn’t know he was too… She loved him. She couldn’t admit it. She found herself openly expressing emotion towards him. Using the word please. Her walls were penetrated. He is an extremist though. He wanted to take and conquer in a sense. Not hold hostage. I guess He wanted it to be the irreversible Stockholm Syndrome. A hole wasn’t enough. He wanted that house. He saw that house over and over again, but only from the outside. So peeking through that hole he decided he wanted. He had to have it. He wanted those walls down. That place was so beautiful. He wanted to expose it to the world so that now every soul that passed it by could see. See what that passed by or took for granted.
He was addicted. That beginners addicted. Had to have it. That pull her hair and bite her neck addiction. That… touch. That lingering smell. That look. That exhale. That daydream. That type well over 900 words. That blabber. That… Addiction……
Monday, May 11, 2009
Borne By the River (My 1st Time)
I hurt myself. today. To see if I still fell. I focused on the pain. The only thing thats real.. What have I become?
Breifly after the struggle. After mama made son proud. Son wanted to fly. Be his own bird. Become a man. A man.. I like that. Son still had to make mama proud. Even though mama had become the epitome of "Rags to Riches" in a sense. Son had a promise. To take care of mom.
Military is what I always preached, and now I decided I want to do it. Its time to prove everyone wrong who doubted me.
So I go on to complete my training. I was addicted to this chick. Strange addiction. She had a certain something about her. Her personality was almost as addictive as mine. I look back now, and she wasnt even that pretty. But, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We decided we were meant for each other. Little did I know this is where the pain began. To rewind a little. If you steal a toy it is never truly yours. If you win the lotto its not long before that same money is up for grabs again.. I should have known. My training seemed to offer me a chance to purge myself of her. But that addiction. A simple "Hi" or a hint of her perfume.. The way she always smelled like brown sugar and vanilla. And even now it makes me think of her flawless, shiny skin...
I got a letter from her saying she loved me. I was in love. All my hard work wasted. Walls penetrated. I knew it was a bad Idea. But i decided to hurt myself. All or nothing? I opened up. Communicated back and forward. No one was there to warn me. I watched a woman go in and out of relationships, being faithful . I never saw the role of a doggish woman or a good man. Just what she had been through. I knew we were destined for failure after she didnt come to my graduation. It was all inclusive.. The only excuse she could give was "I have to study".. I was making improvements in my life, and i wanted to be what she needed.. I began to once again purge myself. So that day when she told me " I don't want to be with you anymore" in a angry voice, and we set on the phone. All i could do was hang up and close this chapter of my life.
That was the first time. That first high. That first cut. It's not always the deepest. But it stung a bit. I went on allowing her. In and out of my life. But my walls were built so high. She even offered what i wanted. She said "We can get married and have kids" but i rejected. There is no pain greater than one that you can not cure. I will probably have these scars forever but I don't care about that right now..
Breifly after the struggle. After mama made son proud. Son wanted to fly. Be his own bird. Become a man. A man.. I like that. Son still had to make mama proud. Even though mama had become the epitome of "Rags to Riches" in a sense. Son had a promise. To take care of mom.
Military is what I always preached, and now I decided I want to do it. Its time to prove everyone wrong who doubted me.
So I go on to complete my training. I was addicted to this chick. Strange addiction. She had a certain something about her. Her personality was almost as addictive as mine. I look back now, and she wasnt even that pretty. But, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We decided we were meant for each other. Little did I know this is where the pain began. To rewind a little. If you steal a toy it is never truly yours. If you win the lotto its not long before that same money is up for grabs again.. I should have known. My training seemed to offer me a chance to purge myself of her. But that addiction. A simple "Hi" or a hint of her perfume.. The way she always smelled like brown sugar and vanilla. And even now it makes me think of her flawless, shiny skin...
I got a letter from her saying she loved me. I was in love. All my hard work wasted. Walls penetrated. I knew it was a bad Idea. But i decided to hurt myself. All or nothing? I opened up. Communicated back and forward. No one was there to warn me. I watched a woman go in and out of relationships, being faithful . I never saw the role of a doggish woman or a good man. Just what she had been through. I knew we were destined for failure after she didnt come to my graduation. It was all inclusive.. The only excuse she could give was "I have to study".. I was making improvements in my life, and i wanted to be what she needed.. I began to once again purge myself. So that day when she told me " I don't want to be with you anymore" in a angry voice, and we set on the phone. All i could do was hang up and close this chapter of my life.
That was the first time. That first high. That first cut. It's not always the deepest. But it stung a bit. I went on allowing her. In and out of my life. But my walls were built so high. She even offered what i wanted. She said "We can get married and have kids" but i rejected. There is no pain greater than one that you can not cure. I will probably have these scars forever but I don't care about that right now..
Emotional Rape!
Oh that feeling. The feeling of addiction.. No matter how bad it is for you. You cant stay away. You can't quit. It hurts.. so good.
She stands talls flawless skin. Even her impersections are perfect. The smile touched by god, and her body was carved by angels. He wonders "How did I get a woman like this". He is intimidated. He hates, that she is so perfect, but he is obsessed. He is insecure and couldn't fathom her not being there. So he belittles her.. He talks crap. Then he strikes her. He chokes her unconcious.. The rest is black for her at least. She wakes up in a sweat, body in pain. Laying in her back and vision blurred. She cries as she looks at the distorted image of herself in the mirror on the ceiling. Wonderin "How did I end up here" and " What did I do to deserve it.
She tries to force his worthless carcus off top if her, but he wakes up. "You are mine. I own you" At that moment she knew it was now or never. So she agrees. He lets her up. And she escapes. Seizing the opporotunity she runs, and didnt even think to grab her clothes. In the pouring rain barefoot. She calls all she knows. Her rock, That one who has been there. The one who has treated her like roayalty. And no matter how many careless decisions she makes. He never judges. The opressor finds her sweet talks her, and tears her down some more. But she is addicted. You kno. that cant sleep at night.. Shake in your sleep kind of addiction. That wake up thinkin about you kind of addiction.
She wants it now more than ever. So does he.....
iJonesy on The Dream Woman..
This chick.. Just runs into my life one day. Decided she was gonna stay there. She sank her claws in, and scratched away. Molded certain aspects of my emotion and sense of humor to match hers. She tells me.."Hey I am like a bad rash u cant get rid of me". Knows how to be exactly what i need at that point in time. She decided she wanted to stick around. She made a decision that no matter what she would be there. She writes suicidal love stories and smile about it. Gets off to talkin trash to other people. Not that scared of my driving... lol.. She decided she would stay, and when I decided to hold on to my ways a little more tight. She simply embraces with me. Until I am tired ant I let go. She is patient. She does all I dont do, or like doing. Drives the speed limit, talks nicely to people, wait in lines, eat bad food, study, save money. Tattoos are permenant so are iPod engravings, and scars.. She looks past the scar on my stomach, and doesnt question. She is a softer side of me. She cries while watching movies, and horror flicks scare her. She is like Happiness in the human form. Happiness is all I need. Look for it u will never find it. But be the liver of your life and lead it. It will find you...
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