Beat You Like You Were Fred Waterford

There are times when the anger
is so deep I find myself reeling
in the emotions to keep from
jumping down the throats of
the people intent on believing this
nation isn’t racist anymore.

What world are you living in exactly?
Our bubbles can be safe places
but when one starts implying
trouble happens elsewhere and
everything is “fake news,” I call
in to question their ability to
be an actual human being.

It must feel good up there on
the pedestal of privilege.
It must feel real good.
You don’t have one care
in this world–no concern of
being attacked or harassed or
beaten like you were Fred Waterford
and hung on a wall for neighbors
to find while they’re mowing
their lawns.

Tell me, how can you call
a lynching on an oak tree suicide?
How?
This nation is designed to
mock and murder its minorites
and make sure the role of
“subordinate” stays that way.
“Here’s a small dish of manavelins
to hold you over until the next
batch of bullshit is released in
our favor. Stay tuned.”

America is built on the backs
of their oppressed and yet, America
acts like this fact is fiction.
“Sweep it under the rug.”
“Move that elephant out of the room.”
“Take history away from history.
This isn’t true!”
All the golden boys want their
golden girls to live in
an hour of disbelief.
This suits their blueprint.

But we are here to disrupt it
and shine light on what should
have been the focus centuries ago.
This nation is weeping; she cries
for her lost children; taken by the
hands of the blasphemers and
the pseudo-righteous.
She cries for her spirit is torn.
She cries because her soul is weak.

“Yea, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil.”

I shall fear no evil.
But evil better damn sure
fear me.

I Am Afraid of the New Dating World and Think I’ll Pass for Now

Even if summer’s on the way, I’m still not ready

Photo by cottonbro via Unsplash

Nowadays if you’re not on one of the following dating apps; Tinder, eHarmony, Match, or Hinge (just to name a few), chances are, you’re still clinging to the traditional way of dating just as I am or I’d like to be. I did not have many miles behind me regarding the traditional way of dating prior to the Coronavirus, COVID-19 — it was the method with which I was most familiar.

If I wanted to, I could go to my local coffee shop, set up my mini workstation, order my favorite blend, and subtly eye God’s gifts that walked through the doors of the venue.

If I made eye contact with a woman or a man who sparked my interest, a small conversation would start and the two of us would simply enjoy one another’s company as we sipped our brews and meshed with our surrounding environment. If the connection was intense enough, we would exchange numbers. If not, of course, we parted ways. No harm. No foul. We were adults and acted accordingly (thankfully).

Today, I feel the stress and overwhelming disdain within me that comes with the idea of even signing on to a dating app to get back out into the not-yet-virus-free world. I could do it that way but I’d still have to meet up with the person after getting to know them online, shoot the shit, and hope the connection is as decent a connection in person as it potentially was online, eventually.

I’m a cut out the middleman kind of person, so . . .


I’d like to trust you, but I don’t.

With summer right around the corner, I would rather visit the various places I used to frequent during the pre-COVID-19 days, however, I don’t trust the people out and about mask-less since the CDC’s most recent update to their guidelines for fully vaccinated individuals.

If I have to go to the store (Instacart has become my best friend), I wear my mask, rush in, get what I need, keep my distance from others, and get out. And I’m a fully vaccinated healthcare worker who now works from home.

There is still a substantial amount of fear dwelling inside me as it pertains to this virus. When one has faced what I have dealt with (prior to my transfer to my current position) — fear is probably not going to subside soon.

Screening patients for COVID-19 symptoms and frequently coming in contact with patients who were positive was enough to keep me aware of the severity of thousands of cases and the seriousness of this pandemic.

Eager to start but afraid to begin.

I would like to get back to the life I had, but I also don’t want to rush into anything stupidly or hurriedly without weighing all safety options. What scares me the most is befriending a person who is not honest about his or her practices and precautions. Are they really fully vaccinated if they say so? Do they keep their visitations to and with others to a minimum? Are they cautious about who they allow in their home? How are their cleanliness and hygiene?

I don’t want to become that person who asks you to show me your COVID-19 vaccination card as proof . . . but . . .

I am not jaded. I would not find it fair for me to hit up my favorite spots or find new ones with this fear still lingering as deeply as it is. I would not want to subject anyone to the possibility of an early dismissal without a proper chance at developing something from nothing.

Kicking digital game isn’t my thing.

The horror stories I’ve heard from many of my friends about this new dating world via the world wide web are enough to keep me single and celibate forever — summer, be damned . . . Constant ghosting. Swiping left or right. Matching only to be swiftly unmatched. Breadcrumbing. Stonewalling. And the list goes on.

Is this what we’re now facing if we somewhat wish to give dating a try again? Impatience and the ever-changing world of I want what I want and if you aren’t it, I won’t stick around to grow with you? “Lies you tell.” — Tamar Braxton

When I was in my mid-twenties, I had signed up for one of the dating sites that had been popular around that time. I want to say it was Match, but I can’t be certain.

Met a guy. We hit it off. Things were good for about four months and then . . . things started taking a more serious turn, and he did not want that. I’m sure it doesn’t need stating that we moved on from one another. It was for the best. I’ve had a few summer and autumn flings here and there — with a few of those individuals scooped up from a couple online platforms I frequented. That’s as close as I have gotten to “online dating” since the previously mentioned guy.

It isn’t my comfort zone.

Summer is right around the corner. Should I come out of my shell?

I have a burning feeling welled up in me to stick my big toe in the water (so to speak), but I also know I’ll probably tip-toe to the water, overanalyze it, hesitate, and cringe instead of attempting to become one with what used to be familiar to me. I’ve seen so many people crowded together poolside, hosting barbecues and family functions, and jet setting without a care in the world, and although it is rather appealing, I can’t move . . .

I want to, I just can’t.

And this tells me I still have much work to do within myself and about this pandemic before I am ready to see what the new dating world has to offer. People can be more work than I am cut out to put in and well . . . I’ve been single for a long time, I’m in no rush.

But what will the dating world be like when I’ve finally given fear a run for its money?

I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.


Originally published in Prism & Pen via Medium.

At 4 am, You Call Me Into Waking by Tremaine L. Loadholt

All thanks to Gabriela Marie Milton for publishing my poem, At 4 am, You Call Me Into Waking in MasticadoresUSA. I am honored and I appreciate her taking a liking to the poem enough to host it. Please hop on over to the site to read the poem in its entirety.

Peace and blessings.

MasticadoresUsa

The Dream (Le Rêve) by Pablo Picasso, 1932

At 4 am, You Call Me Into Waking
-Tremaine L. Loadholt

and it isn’t odd, this is
what you’ve done for years–
awaken me from deep sleep . . .
I allow it.
there’s something about your
raspy voice at this hour,
something about the breaths
you take that make me
be still and listen.
I love the world around
what we’ve built.
we have a common bond;
the depths in which we swim
can never drown us.
you say you want to
move in–say it’s finally time
and I find myself scrambling
for excuses to avoid
responding.
my space is mine,
invasion isn’t something
I envisioned, especially from
a lover.
we aren’t supposed to grow
past a certain point–we aren’t
supposed to linger . . .
you’ve always broken the rules.
and here I am, struggling
to pick up jagged pieces…

View original post 165 more words

I’m Running Again

Another shot of my best friend’s plant therapy room. I’ve fallen in love with this room. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I don’t mean to–I didn’t
mean to but I know
when I’m not wanted
and I get my running shoes
put them on, tie them
up tight, and I start
running.

You’ve seen it before.
We’ve lived through this
phase of mine because you
have Casper in your blood.
Two ghosts does not a
live person make.

I love you too much to
let you see me crumbling
more because of you, so
what’s the best thing to do?
I can’t live on my feet
and die on my back at
the same time.

Pick one.
Which one do
you want?

You come in like
blooms on a plant
and disappear sooner
than later, taking more
pieces of me to
devour–to ravage.
I will never make
your sun shine.

This is what you
tell yourself without
knowing truly what I
can do.
I keep my running
shoes at the door,
ready and waiting.

Because when you come
around, old ways
stir up inside me and I . . .
set my eyes on
fleeing the scene
before you can
break my heart again.