This site does not claim credit for images, videos, or music, except where noted.
Wisps Posts Tagged as 'Violence'
Welcome to Errattic! We encourage you to customize the type of information you see here by clicking the Preferences link on the top of this page.
I came out to my mother when I was 17 years old and no longer residing in her household. I didn't expect a good reaction so I called her on a public phone and announced it to her. She cried, became quiet and told me she suspected it but that she loved me, no matter what. I didn't have to lie to mother anymore. It was freeing. I visited her a few days later. She had time to absorb and ponder having a gay son. She cried again, I asked why and she said because being gay meant I was destined for a miserable life. That's impossible, it was such an overwhelming feeling to be me. I had to prove her wrong. She asserted conditions for my new identity: no meeting of "my men," I must continue to have a masculine presence, especially around family and don't get sick. I ignored her, introduced her to every one, told as much of the family as I could bear and kept my masculinity in check.
My mother recently confided to me that she used to receive dick pics from my croc daddy in the US mail while I was living with him. I thought, he might have done it as revenge for my unwillingness to absorb giant dick pain and or tricking him into being a gay bottom. When I took him to Gay Pride he cried because he thought I mistook him for one of those. He was straight. His shit was no joke but he was. A child molester was my educator and entrance into the gay world. I also figured my mother and I were even. Her boyfriend tried to brutally rape me. Mother's boyfriend was two years older than me, my croc daddy was 55. Our boyfriends shared the same culture, understood the nuances that make people vulnerable, and always seemed to be creepily plotting something sexual for us. Neither man represented our community. They were perverts sidling up to mommies so they could play with their children. (Now I know why she tried to cut him out of my photo albums.) I understand her comments and I realized her concern. My gay education came from perverts. The community hates itself more than the media loves it. Clicks work for a minute, the families we create are fake and we all die alone. We need less "Boys In The Band" depression and more gay reality awareness so we can come up with better coping mechanisms. Not smile at weirdos taking advantage of us because of politically correct etiquette.
I apologized to my mother. My croc stalked me, stole from us, used me, beat me up, tied me up and raped me. Afterwards, he thought of not releasing me because he was afraid I would kill him. You bet your life! But I had no choice, I begged for my life, stroked the psycho's ego and he loosened one arm while he Soniced out of the apt. I was stalked by my ex, my mother was stalked by her ex and I was stalked by both exes. I spent a lifetime trying to prove mother's sentiment wrong but in the end, she was right.
(Pic of my daddy croak included. Mother destroyed my croak dic picks but y'all can ask mother if she kept her copy.) 26-Oct-2020
I am for equality and respect for all. I think mathematically and look for truth so I can fully assess the chaos and decipher it. I don't stand for causes but I regard everyone. The bad eggs are stopping the community from moving forward because they are the problem. You have every right to peacefully protest for our rights but if you don't acknowledge or condemn the problem you might become the problem. The bad eggs represent everything that destroys a community, making it difficult for cops to enforce peace which leads to overreaction, until it becomes a pattern. The people who cross the community bridge for an honest life are the ones being punished for bad egg action. They represent the superficial gods you worship and I think you need to acknowledge them, for history's sake. The future will ask. Empathy doesn't start with somebody else, it starts with you. 03-Jun-2020
We need new representation. Pronto! I've been living my life harder as a better person because someone thought a thug could be a hero. The thugs are the Nazis of our community, raping, pillaging and obliterating everyone they please. The upstanding citizen is always ignored or castrated for becoming...not them. White people don't really much complain because it keeps us busy and makes us easier to tolerate. It's only entertainment. They gift you for achievements unaccomplished while secretly suspecting. They elevate and inflate a selected few to King and Queen status and only support us in causes with the least life stress, less they perceive you as an ungrateful stereotype. The more of a petty life celebration, the less, us, in the pit are safe. You bought yourself a tower to represent the petty thugs that kill us because it's the only swag you've got. I sit here, a victim of countless thugs, refusing to worship or be labeled as one. We almost had them and the thug fucked it up. I don't fucking get it.
You can sit there and wonder, make excuses, but they hate us alike because we are thugs. Get it?
Oops! They can't hear me because they're hiding in a bejeweled tower, we helped create.
I think this is the perfect time to create heroes. Real ones. 12-Apr-2020
Prov 22:15: “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.” Prov 23:13-14: “Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell (i.e. death).” 13-Jan-2020
The boy who defined my sex was a Jehovah's Witness and my cousin. I was his sex obedient from age 8 to 18 (when he bored of me.) He took my sex while I was asleep as I woke to a dry and cold orgasm.
I gave him a hickey the night before he wed his first 12 year old bride. When I came out to him at 16 he used the moment to remind me that I should never mention having sex with him and his brother (they were straight) and that he had a penchant for children. It was a chilling moment. Five wives under the age of 13, countless children, countless cover-ups from the family and the church and innumerate weddings that my cousins and I forced smiles for. I was a Jehovah's Witness too but I quit because they couldn't cohesively answer "why I couldn't celebrate my birthday."
The monster tired of his wives at the age of 18. The family joke was that they woke up. The reality was that he violently possessed them. He gained sympathy and property of his children and was regarded as a great father because the children seemed overly physically attached to him. He carried them around like monkeys. He was the only one allowed to touch them. The family celebrated every child marriage and birth like it was holy. He was a beloved violent boxer.
When I told my mother, she was flabbergasted. All boys do that. I snitched on the family. Bullshit! Get over it! Family first! Do not discuss this with your sister (the saint?)
My cousin was a teen heartthrob. The mothers gushed, the women flirted and the girls were overcome. He was a Puerto Rican with blue eyes, freckles and red hair that cascaded in the wind. What I saw was the guy from Mad Magazine with a diabolical edge. Women are funny. 06-Feb-2019
The illusion that the street name for "idiot slave" is synonymous with a culture and its strength is ludicrously grandiose. You rarely complain when the white community says it while it helps you grind one out. Why should you expect white people to stop saying the word if you can't? Please tell your non-black fans not to buy your music, it's not appreciated and you don't need the money because you do it for the art.
You can't even stand up to your own brothers for calling your mothers, sisters and daughters hos and bitches or defending them from the "me too" movement, why should we expect a humane response for global respect. We are the ones that suffer the consequences and unless you have room in your jet for the entire community to fly out when it gets frantic, I suggest you keep the word to yourself. I refuse to be an "idiot slave."
I’m allowed to use the "n" word. I don’t because the connotation is ugly. We need to learn our history and respect it. The people who suffered are not here and the instigators long died out. I dislike the word because its archaic and incapacitating. If you are constantly haunted by a word, get rid of it. It hasn’t changed anyone's life for the better and its impolite to be holding people who don't understand hostage for a word that picks its own master. That is not a stand for equality its a fight for exclusivity. Half the advantage of buying and listening to music is repeating the words. Bieber wasn't held accountable but Bill Maher was when they each said it. The experience of buying and listening to music is so people can sing along. If you don't want other people to sing it don't write it in (artists work best under restrictions.) Our ancestors would not appreciate its use and you might be able to suppress the chokehold white America has over your community because you showed them your kryptonite. Everyone will be accountable and Tarantino will have an unfinished script for his next film. 21-May-2018
So much bitchin' that "me too" moments are careening into "witch hunts" when the problem lays below men and women's waist. Ponder why people have no sex control and let the movement ride itself out. I'm curious to find out how endless it becomes. 18-May-2018
The "Pod People" are winning. My art may be inappropriate but life is more so and you still allow children to live in it. Cowardice has people running for their toy armaments whilst people who have no desire to cause harm sit waiting for an alarm. It rang with the presidency. Welcome to the past and what my great, great, great grandparents called "The Wild Wild West." (Let me guess who the white people will kill first, who the black people will kill first, the children will kill first, etc, etc. 04-Apr-2018
I was born and baptized catholic. I wanted to become a priest. I have an aversion to them because I spent a lifetime avoiding their predatory advances. One priest actually had me wait with him while the rectory retired so he could sneak me into his room for sex. He showed me his dick and called me a "skirt." I stalled and refused. I met another at a vampire club and thought he was in disguise but he went out of his way to prove me wrong (it was his only badge of attraction,) he followed me into the bathroom, felt me up and I kicked him out. Many managed to take me to bed disguised as a civilian but eventually it caused a rift. I didn't want the responsibility of aiding someone to hell. I went through the whole process with one of my friends and all he talked about was how much more sex he was having interning. My world was very small but they constantly showed up with the same propositions. They were so prevalent in my life that it's the one career choice I could pick out just by talking to them (policemen were another.) Holy talk and show me your prick is a weird conversation. My sister wouldn't let my lover or myself babysit her children but she would gladly hand them over to a priest to teach. If I knew that anyone would care I would have made a grand list for the present so a parents love for their child could overcome faith. This is how I deal and vent because I am boggled that parents can complain all they want about the Weinsteins of the world but these child predators continue to be beloved and followed. Of course, there are good men in the priesthood, but those were rare in my life. The problematic ones know this is still the best place to hide because people grant them power. Forgive me when I use my art to vent but they woke me. 22-Mar-2018
I wet my bed once in the first grade, besides a few smacks and verbal screams, my mother thought to implement a life lesson so ingrained that it wouldn't permit it to happen again.
At school, amidst the other parents and plenty of my classmates, my mother trumpeted...
"Guess what my son did this morning?...big little boy had the audacity to wet his bed at his age."
I felt like a criminal. The parents looked shocked but remained silent, some avoided looking at me out of pity and those that did glance were also out of pity. Mother took a heroic bow and was rewarded.
I never pissed myself again because the lesson was about teaching your child to control himself. I control piss, shit, farts, eat, sneezes, coughs, tears, snots, anything internal I can pinch so I never have to embarrass myself or especially anyone... ever again. 13-Mar-2018
If a child wants to play with guns, they can wait to be 18 and enroll in the many services America provides to ensure that they are used to protect everyone not just themselves. 16-Feb-2018
We celebrate the birth of every child without assurance that they will become decent human beings. As parents, our greatest ambition should be to preserve and enhance their lives not fight for the right to procure deadly toys that could extinguish them. I extol lives not births. 15-Feb-2018