Blackhumouristpress's Blog

April 30, 2012

The Gulf of Apathy

Filed under: humor,poem,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:36 am
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I want to look twenty-five forever

Malibu Pilates, a colonoscopy everything is good inside of me, behind me

Got passion, a sense of fashion waiting at Sears to see a real Kardashian

Its just mild anxiety about the complexity of the economy and the nosey neighbors next to me.  Dog piss on the rug, no eye contact or a hug from the wife, suburban life, bored offspring hate me but love to take Ecstasy.

A 600 lb woman on the screen, lean cuisine, P90X, mind blowing sex and people catching catfish with their hands.

More stars than grains of sand, universe growing, Serengeti wildebeest and plastic in the oceans and on the beach, deep wrinkle cream and cock enlarging potions.

Disney, history, mystery, military, unwrapping King Tut, developing a Brazilian butt

Juice, blend, chop, shop silver, sex toys, wealth without risk, Ru Paul and other chicks with dicks. My sleep number, look fit this summer.  Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy swarggart, the roll of Erwin Rommel and a 12 disc set by Merl Haggard.

It is a virtual rodeo and a makeover, a subliminal take over with hidden messages masked as information and entertainment.  High definition low retention emptying minds and oozing radiation.  Televised real time closed caption of the rapture brought to you by your friends at BP- bridging the Gulf of Apathy.

April 19, 2012

I Feared For My Life

When I met Sylvia back in the late nineties, it was in a hotel suite where other men stood around in Speedo swim trunks, waiting for their turn to writhe around on a rubber sheet, covered in extra virgin olive oil.

Sylvia was in perfect shape without a hint of fat on her body.  She emerged from the bedroom with rippling muscles and a healthy tan.  I paid my $100.00 to have my fifteen minutes on the mat while other men stood by for their turn and watched.  Yes, it is rather a bizarre fetish but most men have some sort of thing where they wear women’s underwear or like things shoved in their ass.  Mine is that I enjoy wrestling with women who are in perfect shape.

I offered to take Sylvia to dinner while she was in town.  We went to a sushi place and she ate eel and other seafood without the rice.  We drank some Japanese beer and went back to her hotel room and had the best sex of my life.  Everyday was better than the next.  Sylvia told me she loved me and wanted to be with me everyday of her life.  Sylvia suggested marriage and so we were married.

At first Sylvia forced a new diet on me that consisted of high protein and low fat.  I was forced to work out at least an hour a day.  Sylvia said that she did not want to be repulsed by a man who had bigger tits than her.  Sylvia’s breast actually became dome shaped, her chin became sharp and her voice got lower.  She went from 150 lbs on a 5’ 8 frame to nearly 200lbs.  All solid muscle.  Sylvia worked out six hours a day and then did hotel wrestling and porn so that she could make enough money to just work out and enter competitions.  Initially I was told that my friends were stupid and my family was holding me back and after several months she gave me a job squeezing fat out of ground beef for her lunches.  At lunch she would tell me what a big penis her ex-boyfriend had and how the guy could go all night.  She would talk about his muscles and how tough he was.  I finally had enough and said to her, “why don’t you go back to him?”  Later that day I was in the hospital with a broken arm.  Sylvia paid cash and told the doctor I was just very clumsy.  In the car on the way home, she looked at me with eyes that could kill and told me to not get smart again unless I really want to get hurt.

I never thought of myself as a wimp or a bitch but I truly was intimidated and afraid for my life living with a woman with Roid Rage.  The final straw was when we were discussing the legitimacy of wrestling.  Not the Olympic type but the kind where people get hit with chairs and forearms.  I made the mistake of saying it was phony.  She went to the bedroom, got a revolver that I didn’t know she had.  She pinned my on the ground and put the barrel of the gun in my mouth and told me to repeat what I said.  She then pistol whipped me and took me to the hospital.  Sylvia cried like a concerned wife and told the people in the emergency room that gangbangers in the park had attacked us.  Through her fake tears, she gritted her teeth and took her index finger and ran it across her throat as a way of reminding to keep my mouth shut.  I was admitted into the hospital after they suspected that I had internal bleeding in my head.  I was able to sneak into a service elevator and get away.  I’ve been in hiding now for a little over a month.  I want to thank The Life of Men for allowing me to share this story.  I now know after finding a discussion group for battered husbands that I am not alone.  I would not want this same thing to happen to any other man and yet I heard that Sylvia recently caused a man in Boston to have to get emergency surgery to remove a vegetable from his anus.  There are warning signs.  Abusers can be charming and loving as they can be jealous and violent.  I hope my story can help other men to realize that they are not alone.

April 6, 2012

Every Girl is a Princess

Ms. Jones led Stephanie into the beauty shop that was buzzing with sounds of music and talking.  Ms. Jones had her arm around the thin figure that struggled to look up at the women who were greeting them.

“Ladies, this is Princess Stephanie…  Princess Stephanie is going to be in the school play tonight and I need to have her look like royalty.”

Alice Jones had escaped inner city Detroit only to return to be an elementary school teacher at Holmes Elementary in the city of Detroit.  Despite fractured family lives of her young students, Ms. Jones got her fifth grade class to appreciate Romeo and Juliet and read stories by James Thurber.

Ms. Jones wrote a play that she was hoping to get published about a young, poor girl who grows up in Detroit that meets and marries a real prince from a make believe country in Africa. The students of her class were putting on the play for the entire school. The only wrench in the gears of the story was that Stephanie was a little white girl with blond hair.  While Stephanie was getting her hair washed in the back by the shampoo girl, Tisma, the owner of the beauty shop pulled Alice aside to understand what it was that she was doing exactly.  The older and larger woman stood close to Alice with one hand on her hip while gesturing with the other hand.

“You got one little white girl in a class full of black girls who now can buy themselves a Tiana doll and visualize themselves as Tiana and you choose the pretty white girl to be the princess who marries an African prince and moves to Africa?!  This ain’t 1960 when little colored, negro girls had no choice but to hold a little white doll and wish they wasn’t so damn black…  Watchu doin, girl?  Every damn mother in that auditorium gone think bout they man taking up with a blonde white woman.  What message you sending to all them other little black girls?  Little girls as black as you…”

Alice listened to Tisma with pursed lips and her arms folded, as she politely and patiently waited for her moment to speak.

“Before you question and chastise me, you should hear the story.”

Alice explained Stephanie’s story as Stephanie watched cartoons while her hair was being blown dried.  After several minutes, Tisma emerged with her large presence and larger voice.

“Trina!  Go git  Rouchelle and tell her to bring her some fabric.  I need her to make a gown quickly.  Ain’t no way I’m sending a princess out this place looking like a pauper.  When Princess Stephanie step outta here, everyone gone know the princess come to tea here today.”

Over the course of three hours, the rail thin ten year old girl was transformed into a regal figure.  Stephanie’s hair was curled and had blonde extensions added.  She had eyeliner, lipstick and pearls around her neck that matched the pearl colored dress that went along with pearl colored pumps.  Stephanie looked old enough to attend a junior prom.  She stood marveling at her self in the mirror as the women who created her commented to her and one another about how beautiful she looked. Alice put her arm around Stephanie’s shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Remember how you look today and always remember you are beautiful on the inside and on the outside.  You are a princess and this is your day to feel like one.  You’re gonna do a good job tonight and so many people are gonna be there to see you.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you make it on the news tonight.  You are a pretty young lady, Stephanie and I believe you will one day make a beautiful queen.”

Stephanie stepped out on the stage and saw over a hundred parents and siblings sitting in seats.  She shined like a star.  Stephanie was articulate and vibrant.  When the performance ended, Stephanie was given flowers and adulation.  Alice then took Stephanie to Greektown to eat dinner and a dessert of Baklava.  Everyone noticed the pretty looking young debutante and some commented on how lovely she looked.  Stephanie really felt special.  There was no thought about living in an abandoned home with no heat with her crack addict grandmother and her boyfriend that was having sex with Stephanie and inviting others to do the same in exchange for a few dollars to buy drugs.  Alice had sensed something distressing in the eyes of the young girl and upon learning how she lived, removed her from the home without any opposition from Stephanie’s grandmother.  With the exception of a few neighbors who lived in the high rise condominium overlooking the Detroit River, nobody knew that Stephanie was living with her school teacher.

Stephanie changed into her Hello Kitty nightgown and hopped into the twin bed that had a smiling Felix the Cat clock on the wall where the eyes moved from left to right with each tick.  A television was on the wall with a shelf full of books and everything was safe, orderly and clean.  Nights were often difficult for Stephanie and Alice understood.  Thoughts of unspeakable acts often filled Stephanie’s mind as she lay in bed.  That night as Alice brushed Stephanie’s hair away from her eyes, Stephanie looked at Alice and thanked her and then calmly fell asleep.  That night Stephanie didn’t have dreams of toothless, drugged out men violating her or huddling on a piss stained mattress, trying to stay warm.  She dreamed she was walking down a red carpet and everyone respected and revered her for being a real princess.  All girls really are princesses.

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