Poem: Madness

Artwork: (Title Unknown) by Vadi Tkachev

Based on the recent start of my short story series (ah hell you missed it…catch up here), I wrote poems to dicated and elaborate on each character’s overall demenor.

This poem “Madness” is a look into Tina’s plight that is truly just starting and at the same time ending.

Share your thoughts on this one. I can related directly to life bring the “crazy” out in me when I didn’t even know it was possible.

MADNESS

And my tears hit the pillow alarming me to the fact that I’m finally awake.
Awake to a morning of undesirable regrets and madding secrets.
Secrets of lovely lust and love lost.
Lost on my own emotional roller coaster ride created from pent-up mistrusts.
Mistrusts…naw not really. Your insanity didn’t deserve my trust due to your actions.
Actions around the who, the what, then when, or why and fucking how.
How? How did I become this crazy women without control?
Control or faith in how I could handle the pressure of loving you.
You couldn’t have love me and then senselessly smash my heart against the wall.
Walls of “I told you so” painted with “you couldn’t see that coming”.
Coming was truly your problem and raging addiction.
Addiction to your presence and momentary comfort was my affliction.
Affliction to be dealt with on an insane level I never knew I could go.
Go to deal with your insatiable lust and my masked pain.
Pain that must heal quickly to make room for new love.
Love for me and this blessing growing in our madness.

DNC’s Short Story Series: “Complicated” – Chapter One: Tina

***********FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY********

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS SHORT STORY OR ANY PORTION THEREOF MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED OR USED IN ANY MANNER WHATSOEVER WITHOUT THE EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION OF ME, DNC! NOW ON TO THE READING…

………….

I hold tight to my tear-soaked pillow, wanting the sun to set again, but it’s too late. Morning is here and reality is in my face.

His arm wrapped tight around me is supposed to give comfort and protection, but it doesn’t. His loving embrace is false. A mask. A deterrent to his truth. And foolishly, I let it stay in place. Maybe because I’m too scared to move it. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to get up. Or maybe it’s because I want to wear the mask too.

If I could rewind time, I wouldn’t. I want to act like yesterday didn’t happen. Like the argument was just a bad nightmare. Like the tears were me acting out a scene I’ve been rehearsing for. Like the wound on my heart was due to some unknown health issue.

My reality was unnecessary, unwanted and unforgettable. All I want to do is forget, not even forgive. Just act like the face on his phone never showed up or the condom in his pocket was truly his friend’s. Or that the rumors circulating around social media about his cheating was another story mastermind by the blogs. So many signs that I never wanted to see.

I can act blind or forgetful, but I just can’t. There are too many battle scars to count that still fester today. Too many moments of reflection and revelation to play dumb about what my reality was now. Each scar has played a vital part on the woman I am today; for my good and bad.

This was just another moment. Another war for me to march through. I’m just trying to live to see another day.

But this war is different. There are more lives at stake, particularly the one growing inside of my belly. The being he has no clue about.

He doesn’t deserve to know either. Not right now at least. So I guess I do need to wear masks; one for his infidelities and one for his unborn child. Masking my emotions and confusion is my only weapon in this battle.

Morning is here. It’s rays remind me that there could be a brighter day for me one day, just not today.

Time to get up and face his demons.

………….

“Today’s headlines: Police officer accused in the wrongful death trial of a black teenage girl gets his day in court. The City is under a water restriction due to this month’s lack of rainfall. And music mogul, philanthropist and CEO of Yardmen and Stacks has been accused of not only infidelity but of fathering a 5-year-old child from his former assistant.”

On the news already. Wow…

Fighting the urge to smash the T.V. with the remote, I decide to just turn it off and shut my eyes. I’m tired of crying and thinking.

“Hey babe, you want bacon or sausage this morning?”

And look at him, wearing his mask nicely. Waking up to feed me because of course, that’s whats going to make me forget about everything. Food is his new means of manipulation.

“I’m good, I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure?”

Motherfucker, if you say one more thing to me I will race over to you, gouge your eyes, rip out your esophagus and piss on your head is what I really wanted to say. But I just responded with, “Yep. I’m sure.”

Knots twist in my stomach, making me run to the bathroom. I don’t know if I have to shit or throw up. I could feel whatever race up my throat. Throw up it is.

I shut the door and let it fly. Must be the nerves from all this drama. Wait…or maybe it’s the baby.

Life inside of me? Who knew that God thought it was my time, but why now? Why with all this drama and looming pain from him. Bastard ass punk!

More puke flew from my mouth. This time from the thought of all our drama.

I knew a storm was coming. It always does when the sun shines for so long. We just celebrated our third anniversary under the beauty of the Eiffel Tower after a long and expensive shopping spree down the Avenue des Champs Elysées.

Then I finally receive my director’s position as he wins the award for Community Leader of the Year by our mayor. We went from living a modest life, to exploding in the lap of luxury almost over night. A queen’s dream; my dream and I already felt like it was too good to be true. Obviously, it was.

“Babe are you okay?”

Oh, how his concerns once made my heart flutter. Now his voice is a nail on a chalkboard–painstakingly annoying. I despise him with every inch of my being. I can’t show my cards yet. Keep it easy Tina.

“I”m fine sweetie. Must’ve been something I ate last night.”

Ironically, I had to play trophy wife at his former manager’s retirement dinner. A mask I wear way too well. Last night, all I wanted to do was take it off and let them see the pain behind my eyes. The pain that he inflicted on my heart.

But instead, I played my role. I disregarding the epic arguement about the rumors of him cheating prior to the event and gave him what he wanted–an award-winning act. Unbeknownst to everyone there, this movie wasn’t the romance of the century but the tradegy of the decade.

Cheating was a dagger to the chest but hearing about him fathering another child?

Life is about choices and I’ve always told him that if we wanted to choose someone else, that’s fine, just let me go. I need my heart especially now that God has bless me to love this wonderful being growing inside of me. Of course he can’t let go. He believes this this charade is real. So he continues to damage my love every chance he gets since things will be fine sooner than later.

I wish I was the Virgin Mary. He has no business being a part of this blessing. But for now, I have to move in silence.

My girlfriend Nicki is getting my paperwork together and no matter what I’m going to come out on top of all of this–new baby and new life.

Two knocks follwed by a “Tina, I need to talk to you”, break me from my self-strategy meeting.

I open the door to see him and her. And…is that the child? My heartbeat grows to a rapid thumps. Fire grows in my chest making it hard to breathe, and even harder to not explode. Anxiety. Madness. Confusion. I can feel my mask fall to the floor.

“Tina, this is Skye and her…I mean…our son Jeremy.”

#WritingPromptWeds Flip-Flopping T.V. Show Characters

It’s been a while but to get my writing juices flowing,I decided to do a writing prompt and I invite you to do this one too. Today’s prompt is brought to you by Writer’s Digest and it’s a tough but fun one:
Take your favorite TV show character of all time and put him or her into a different show that you enjoy. The character should be surprised to be in unfamiliar territory, but should interact with the other characters and, if possible, help them solve a problem. Word count: between 200-500 words.

Let me know if you can figure which shows I combined. Hint: Both shows are from the 90s.

Playing It Cool

Khadijah woke up on Hillman’s campus in a foreign bed and with a scrawny girl over her.
“Wake up sleepy-head!” The southern girl squawked at her. “Tailgating is about to start. Have you seen my pearls.”
“Say what?” Khadijah was lost. “Where’s Scooter?” Searching the dorm room for him, she noticed two other young girls; a frazzled head, groovy looking chick and a studious stern-faced girl who was apparently also getting ridiculed by the 60s chick.
Who the hell are these chicks and where the hell am I? Khadijah thought.
“Oh my gosh fine…I’ll go!” The studious girl was the first to give into their relenting peer pressure. Khadijah knew she had to follow suit-—it was the only way she would be able to figure out what was really going on.

“Speed up you slow pokes. I’ve got to find Dwayne and give him this letter.”
“Whitley, you wrote him a love letter…that’s so sweet!” The frazzled-hair girl cooed.
“No Freddie. It’s a list of outfits that just went on sale at Neiman Marcus that he can get me for Valentine’s Day.”
“But Valentine’s Day just passed?”
“Oh, it’s never too soon to start on next year’s gifts, honey?” Whitley snipped.
Khadijah was in awe of the girl’s audacity but couldn’t deny that she reminded her of her snobby BFF Regine.

The campus was live. Fraternities and Sororities were blasting music; strolling and chanting to each beat. Other students were sitting on cars dressed in color-blocked shorts and various African print shirts; laughing and drinking. The guys were trying to mack on the girls and the girls were prepping to be macked on.
“This is hype. What’s going on again?” For a moment, Khadijah wasn’t worried about the “how” just about what was going on?
“It’s Homecoming. The picnic and stepshow start in an hour and…” Whitley paused in her tracks. The lively and giddy girl turned stone face with anger.
“Who is that whore monger all up on my man?”
The ladies directed there attention across to the blue tent, where a guy with double-shades stood talking to a girl. The girl was dressed in a tribal mini so tight that Khadijah wondered how she could breath.
“There’s no way that girl is real. She’s a zombie or something. I bet she’s about to pass out in like two seconds…let’s count.” Khadijah looks down at her watch to start timing. The girls burst out in laugher— all of them except Whitley.
“I’m going to bust her upside the head and then bust him a new head.” Whitley began to jump toward the two and Khadijah grabbed her.
“Hold up, hold up, hold up. Look…he’s not interested in her. Just look at how’s he’s looking at her face. Believe me girl, if he was interested in her, he would surely let his eyes fall to all the places she’s trying to show. Be cool.”

For some reason, unknown to Khadijah, Whitley actually listened.
“You’re right. My sugarplum doesn’t want that nasty, low-budget skank. I’m going to be cool and go get him.” Khadijah watched as Whitley sashayed over to the guy, trying to play it cool.
“That girl’s got some spunk. But still…where am I?”

Then an unfamiliar face stepped in front of her and took her hand. Bringing it to his face for a gentle kiss, he introduced himself.
“Hi I’m Ron Johnson. And what is your name beautiful?” Khadijah was smitten with his suave nature. Scooter who?

The Tease: Chapter 1 of The Robinsons’ Sequel

The Tease is out!

In case you missed it, go check out my rough–and I mean really rough–draft of The Robinsons’ sequel. Tell me what you think. Am I on the right path? Am I drawing you in or scaring you away?

Remember, this is the continuation from the chapter in Untraditional, so if you haven’t read that yet, go grab it! https://www.amazon.com/Untraditional-Collection-Passion-Fy-Short-Stories/dp/069256957X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1488325471&sr=8-1&keywords=untraditional

The Chronicles of DNC

Ok guys, I’m trusting you with my life…ok, just my words. Check out the unedited version of the first chapter from The Robinson’s sequel (title still pending). Please leave your comments/thoughts below.


Miami the gateway to the richest drugs, sexiest people and deepest passions. A new world opened for me there and I’ve brought it all back with me. In one weekend, I let go and let my mind and body loose on the city.

Who knew that an innocent meeting with Drew and Monroe on the plane would be the precursor to events that would shift my being to something raw and sexy. They introduced me to a woman I’d never met before; my inner savage. I don’t know her name nor do I even know where she has come from but I was excited to finally meet her. And the great thing is, she’s amazing and I’ve decided…

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