How does my marriage threaten you? By Alonzo G.

How does my marriage threaten you? What if they protested straight marriage?

Folks take a stand against men and women who want to love other men and women.

They say “Preserve sanctity.” Why not preserve hope, love, charity, good will, peace, understanding,

Forgiveness, and tolerance?

How man chapel doors have the same key as the courts of divorce, domestic violence, broken hearts,

Broken dreams, annulments and family division?

If I am able to love then why are you not able to allow me to love?

If you love me then to you condemn me?

How does my marriage threaten you? Do you want me too?

Stop the momentum of hate. By Alonzo G.

There was a time when I was hated for:

My Gender

My Faith

My Religion

My Weight

There was a time when I was hated because:

I was too rich

I was too poor

I was to dark

I was to light

I was even hated because I did not speak the language

I wasn’t good enough for your sister, I kissed your brother.

There was a time when I was hated by you.

When I hated myself.

This time you hate me because of my lifestyle.

What the hell,

I’ve been hated before.

My beginning. By Alonzo G.

I used to view my life through other peoples' eyes. Now I express my life through my art, creative writing and God given talent. Now I can truly share who I am.

I began a journal five years ago as my marriage was ending after 23 years. Raising four sons from birth to adulthood I never really acknowledged my accomplishments. I would see my life based on what others saw in me. I was a dreamer, not very handy around the house, so they say. I was the quiet one never offending others. I was the choir boy, who loved to sing in church. I was the musician, always practicing. Finally I was the one who abandoned his family to pursue a gay life. So they say…

Yes I admitted that I was gay. This did not mean that I did not care for my family. So things didn’t work out between my wife and I. I gave it 23 year of suppressing who I really was. I once told myself that if my marriage did not last that I would go after the man of my dreams. I could not follow after that dream because I believed what everybody told me. I believed that being gay was a sin and that God hated me for it. So I got married instead. I prayed, went to church, sang in the choir, wrote songs of praise and performed them in front of congregations. For years I asked God to take this desire from me. I thought I would be married the rest of my life yet I still had a plan B.

I could not stop who I was from being exposed so I made a choice. I refused to live on the down low. I had to be free. I gave up.

My ex-wife badgered me for over two years after I moved out, filling my voice mail up with homophobic accusations. I became estranged from my sons. I fell out of church. I lost my friends, my house, my family, my pets, my in-laws…

What they didn’t see was that I was a loving father. I never went to jail. I did not abuse drugs, was not an alcoholic. I was there from the day my son was born and continue to be in their lives. After learning that my ex-wife had been involved in and affair with a co-worker I did not ask her to leave instead I choose to remain in the house and supported them even though I moved into the smallest room in the house and gave the master bedroom to my undeserving spouse.

She kept up the appearances that we were the same happy couple for over a year until I could not take her hate any more. I asked for a divorce. I separated myself from her. I went back to plan B. She kept asking me to come back to her. I told her I was hurt by her affair. She apologized. I told her I am not in love. She said we can work it out. I told her every excuse I could think of for breaking up but she always had a solution. Finally I told her I believe I am gay and was tired of fighting it. She said stay here we need you. You’re not gay. It’s a lie from the devil. You don’t have to be with me just don’t leave.

One day while at work I received a call from my mother who said that my soon to be ex was making accusations about me and my personal business. Of course I called my home to ask what’s up. HOMO, HOMO, HOMO she screamed into the phone irately.

I was so distraught, I walked off the job. As I attempted to open the front door of our two story house in the suburbs where my life had been. The chain was on the door. I went around back and entered the garage. Loaded my belongings into the bed of my truck and said goodbye as I heard her father yell through the speakerphone “he can live under a bridge” I was homeless and crushed. I took me five years to get over this day.

Funny how they all overlooked her transgressions by focusing in on three letters G A Y.

Since then God has blessed my with people who really do have my back. God has placed people in my life to help me. He let me know that I was not alone. My tears did not go unanswered. One by one my children are coming around. I now express my life through my art, music, creative writing and look at it through my eyes.

Don’t let anyone make you give up. Be yourself. Don’t be restricted by the values and standards of other people. They need to look at there own life before destroying yours.

It is ok to be a dreamer. It’s ok to be you.

 

Hey, Trew Lifers,

I’m sitting in the laundry mat, and I decided to pull out the laptop and get my observation on.

Have you ever noticed how women bring their entire clan of children to the laundry mat? Not that I’m saying they have any other place to take them, but it just seems like the baddest kids come here. These are black, nappy headed, or white, red faced kids who just love to jump over EVERYBODIES things and could probably break a 500 pound heavy duty drier!

As I type these words, Lance, Shequita, and Mary are running rapid around this bitch, screaming, yelling, stomping, crying, looking through my laundry!? Hold on one second. Let me take care of this shit…

Okay, I’m back. Tell my why the kid’s mother was the one going through my things! But she thought that my little rolling basket was hers. It’s kind of amazing how these women know their children are off-springs of Chucky, O.J. Simpson, Sadam Hussein. The mother said, “I hope my bad ass kids aint causing too much trouble,” then she laughed. I didn’t.

It’s kind of a catch-22, because she can’t take them anywhere else (I’m assuming this because she brought them here knowing they need social training), but she knows they need to be chained and gagged out in public.

Now, I’m starting to think to myself, what the hell has she been doing (or lack thereof) to cause her children to be such bad ass little pricks. Was it lack of a father? Does she not feed them enough? This leads me to wonder what type of relationship she has with her children. Seems like she’s the type of person who lets her children dig in their noses and wipe their boogers on the wall, but when she gets out in public she wants to yell and threaten them when they do it.

Typical.

What do you think about this?

If I were a prostitute, I sometimes wonder how much I’d charge. Would I make just enough to get my daily fix of blow, crack, heroine or liquor? Or would I be a classy hoe and charge upwards of $500 per night?

Let’s do the math:

If I charged $500 dollars per night and I slept with six guys that night, I’ll have made $3,000 in one night! Of course, I’d need regulars and they wouldn’t come back every night spending that type of money unless they had some major dough. Well, I’d know my pooh-pooh was fantastic, so I’d make the guy come back more than once a week.

Okay, so we have $3,000 a night so far. Let’s take $1,000 off of each night the next four days, because the regulars aren’t getting into my captivating tunnel of joy. I’ve still made $1,500 dollars a night, times four nights, which gives me a total of $6,000 for those days. Add my regulars back on for Saturday and Sunday and I’ve made $6,000 dollars for those two nights. Now, if we add together all the nights, I’ve made a total of $15,000 in a week! Talk about easy money.

If I were a prostitute, I sometimes wonder how much I’d charge. Would I make just enough to get my daily fix of blow, crack, heroine or liquor? Or would I be a classy hoe and charge upwards of $500 per night?

Let’s do the math:

If I charged $500 dollars per night and I slept with six guys that night, I’ll have made $3,000 in one night! Of course, I’d need regulars and they wouldn’t come back every night spending that type of money unless they had some major dough. Well, I’d know my pooh-pooh was fantastic, so I’d make the guy come back more than once a week.

Okay, so we have $3,000 a night so far. Let’s take $1,000 off of each night the next four days, because the regulars aren’t getting into my captivating tunnel of joy. I’ve still made $1,500 dollars a night, times four nights, which gives me a total of $6,000 for those days. Add my regulars back on for Saturday and Sunday and I’ve made $6,000 dollars for those two nights. Now, if we add together all the nights, I’ve made a total of $15,000 in a week! Talk about easy money.

Gabcast! Trew Life #7 - Your Drunk Story

A podcast from Trew Life about his drunken state.

If this world is wearing thin
And you're thinking of escape
I'll go anywhere with you
Just wrap me up in chains
But if you try to go alone
Don't think I'll understand

This song brings back many memories of past loves...

This song is about a woman realizing her lover is about to die and fighting with the angel of death over him. Siobhan Fahey does the role of the lover, and Marcella Detroit that of Death.

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