I'm Engaged

My life, it's filled with love and hate. But I've spent most of it trying to figure out witch one over powers witch. I've loved a lot of girls, I've loved all of my friends and I've loved all of my family but still to this day I'm not sure I've ever really been IN LOVE. 

   I say that to and I'm  sorry to Nicole, Nicole, Amanda, Kelly, Angela and a few others. But the fact of the matter is, i've never really know what love is. Sure, I've said it a million times but to be honest (for once in my life) I don't KNOW what love is. It's always been a fallback statement for me. It's always said to keep you instreted in what I was saying or going through. I could feed you some bull about how I didn't know it would effect you in any way but I'm trying to be some what honest here. So the crap I've feed y'all for years just won't cut it. I'll get back to y'all in a second.

   Everynow and then I feel I have to write one of these, (this is who I am and this is why I do it speaches) bit there is a reason why I do it. I get these last night on earth feelings, ever so often and I know I have to say what I'm thinking right at that time, because if not, all that's going to be left of me is a memory of a man that drank too much, wrote too little and left yall not knowing who I truely was.  So I fix all that in nights like tonight.

   I know who I'am and I know what I'm really about. I know who I live, who I've always loved and the only thing I will ever love. IRS always going to be me an my bottle. Period, end of story. I'm a drinker, I'm a drunk, I'm a lush. I'm a al could call it. (say it fast and put it together). I don't blame no body for what I've become. Not saying I can't blame some of y'all but I'am who I am and i'm damn proud of it. 

    To put it short, would I be a different person if y'all read what I wrote or if y'all cane to my shows? Hell yes I would, but I can't put that on any of you. That's Gods job. (so you will go unpunished but he's a different story) just now that now I'm married to my writting so I can't fuck with y'all how I use to. 

    My life is filled with love, with hate and with tomorrow. The big debate is which one I'm going to put my all behind. And which one is going to give the most back to me. I can't give all my heart to a single person. I have way to much love in me for that. Not to mention that thr person that gets all my good will also have to take all my bad. And there's bot a person in earth that can handle all of that.


    So yeah, I'm getting married again. And I know it's true live this time. I'm marring into what will live me at 3 in the morning and 12 in the afternoon. I'm marring a love that is unconditional no matter what. I'm marring my words and I know they will always be there for me. No matter what crazy shit I say or write.


    Wait, did y'all think Was talking about a girl. Damn, I guess y'all don't really know me. And that's just sad.   Well, in case y'all missed it., Im engaged to my writing again. My one true love

My last Letter on this subject........ EVER (fuck most of y'all) I love you mama but you know how I felt about everybody else. This is our letter

Sup everybody, it's Chris, some of y'all knew me as Rock but everybody should know me as not giving a fuck. I tried for months trying to make my mothers passing a good thing fir everybody bit that didn't work. Everybody says my moms died so everybody could be better people, bullshit. Ain't none of y'all phony ass people done nothing better for yourselves or nothing better in her name. I'm not buying the bullshit you and your God is selling. Fuck all of you. My Moms ain't like most if talk then and I know she would of called the rest of you out now for all of your fake shit. Someone needs to say it, so I'll do it. I would be the first person she called out, but as if she was alive, I would pay it no Attn. I loved her more than any of the fake love I've showed all of y'all the last year. And I'm not going to start faking love for y'all now. Fuck more than half of y'all. You shitted on her when she needed you and y'all were not there for her so FUCK ALL OF YOU. more than half of you are reading this with out being my friends any way. So don't think I feel bad. I do everything I do for me and me alone. I love my son and I know he's going to be OK. No matter what the end story that's written about me is going to be. So simply put. FUCK EVERYBODY, DO WHAT EVER THE FUCK YOU WANT, KNOW THAT IN A FEW WEEKS/MONTHS THAT WHEN WHAT EVER I HAVE KILLS ME, I WENT OUT LIVING JUST HOW I LIVED. NOT GIVING FUCK ABOUT HOW YOU FELT ABOUT ME-- SIGNED CHRIS GLOVER SR.

The Break

There is a separation between life and love. At some point we all reach
it, it becomes a crossroads for our hearts. When do we discover it? Or
better yet when does it discover us? It is unleashed upon us like bats
out of Hell that suck the thoughts out of your mind and the feeling
from your soul. I don't know when I first got on this path to emptiness
and I don't know if I'll ever get off of it, Hell, I'm not even sure I
want to get off it. But I can figure that out later.

My Melody

When the horns blows blow I feel captured by the rapture. The melody takes me to a far away place. I feel no pain, hurt or anger in this land. I know it's not a feeling I won't be able to enjoy for long so when I'm taken there I try to embrace every moment of it. This place takes me back to my childhood, back to when I was too stupid or naive to know the horrors the real world had planned for me. I see all of my friends that time has taken away or separated me from. I see the swing set and the slide that I would wake up early on weekend mornings, begging to go play on then. I see the images of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons. The Smurfs, the Snorks, Fragile Rock. I see my mothers fried chicken. Nothing but plates and plates of chicken legs, with as much ketcup as I want for them. I see Kelli, the first crush I ever had. She's siting on the fence looking so Innocent and pretty. I see a mirror and see something I don't see to often anymore, me smiling. I try to hold onto this moment fir as long as I can but the horns are fading now. My magic song is over. My happy place is now just another soon to be faded memory. Oh well, I guess I'll just hit repeat and see if those horns will take me back again.

If I....

If I......

If I told u I was dying, what would u say? If I told u there was no cure for me, how would u react? If I told u I only had months, maybe only weeks left, whould u still stand by me?

   If I told u I was leaving, would u try to bring me back? If I broke ur heart, would u allow time to heal the wound or would just u grip and rip at it to keep the scares fresh? If I told you my mind and heart wasn't really in to u, would u try to kill me while I sleep? 

   If I need a shoulder to cry on would u lend it? If I needed to voice how I feel, would ur ears listen? If I fell down, would u extend a hand and help me to my feet? If I had no place to go, would u take me in?  If I walked alone, would join join me? 

  What if we stopped with all the what if's and just did it. I don't even have to think twice on how I would answer any of these what if's. Cause I know I would be there for u in a heartbeat. What if everything could be that simple. 

What These Hands Will Do!!!!

You see these hands?? These hands don't break stones, They mold clay. I make the images that make the world beautiful. I'm an artist. The art I make may not be liked by many but it shall be loved by all. When its all said and done, my mark will be left on this earth. I will be logged in the the history books as a master of words. Misunderstood, but that will be the magic of my words. Each reader will take something different away from everything I write. With not one of them truly gripping what I was truly saying. I love that. I throw so many curve balls when I write because my words are just a reflection of the energy that my body begs to release. My writing is equal to throwing bucket and buckets of paint on a wall and then waiting for it to dry and seeing what comes of it. I guess you can say I write abstract. I know I think abstract, so these words would only be done justice if i wrote them as such. But these hands will mold the future, they will set the new standard. They will be the hands that lead the movement. Oh, and this movement will be written. But not by me, but by you. We are the leaders of this writing revolution. We need to go hard and let the world feel our impact.

True Love - Our Poem

This is a love poem, but it not a regular love poem. This is our love poem. Yours and mine. His and hers. Her and her man's. This poem is about love, but the worst kind of love. It's the love that you have no say in. It's the love that you cant have. No matter how much you want it. It's about the person you know loves you back but just not as much as you love them. Everybody has that love. You know that love that no matter what your doing once they show back up in your life, everything else becomes for not. This is about that love that freezes time. The love you say and try to convince yourself your over. but you and I know that you'll never be over that love. What's keeping you apart? You'll ask yourself that a million times. But the answer is never correct because you will always try to convince yourself thats not the case. We all have that love. Take a second right now and think about that person. You see that smile light up across your face. You love that feeling right. It always feels good. Now wait for it.............. here comes the hurt again. Here comes the question's again. the two go together like how you feel you and your love should. Yeah, this is a love poem alright. It's a poem about how something as beautiful as love could be so disgustingly painful that it makes you not want to love. But then what would be the fun in loving if there wasn't any pain, right? Kind of make's you hate love, right? But don't. Because love isn't meant for us to have. It's meant for us to share. Love is just what love is. It's bigger than you and me. it's bigger than Him and her. it's bigger than her and her man's. This is a love poem, but it's not a regular love poem. This is our love poem.

A Love Lost

A Love Lost

I see her, but it's only from a far. I see her and I can see a future with her, I can see me and her having a house on the hills, facing the water or an apt in the NYC, overlooking the bright lights of the city. I can see us showing our kids off at work events. Her and I walking into the best resturants around town, me with my head held high, her with a glow about her. She is more than a throphy wife, she is more than a hit it and quit it, not a jumpoff, not a one night stand. She's more than my equal. She's more than a part of me. She's is my everything. The sound of her voice stops me in my tracks. When I look in her eyes I see tomorrow and the next day. I see the rest of my life. I see all of my life. She is my life. She is all of my hopes and dreams come true. But..... but.....but....... 

    This is all a dream, this is not a future than can happen, not a future that will happen. As I sit here and stare at her, I sit motionless. I'm frozen in time. I want this to be a reality but time and space will not allow it. As each moment passes I can feel my heart shatter. And yet I still can't change a thing about this perfect future I had planned out for me and her. 

    Shes being taken away from me and. I'm helpless. I can't stop it. I see her drifting away. I want to pull her back but I defenseless. The power has her. I can't see her anymore, I can't see my future I had laid out. It's being taken away from me and it's killing me on the inside. I guess it just wasn't meet to be. 

Epilogue: as I sit I'm my hosipital bed awaking from my coma, my mother tells me she is gone. Her life taken away from me as soon as our life together had began. Me wishing it was I that was driving so the car would have plowed through my door. It's a guilty wish, but knowing that the person I wanted to bring into the world and the person I wanted to help me raise them is gone makes life not worth living. I can't recall much from that night. Just holding her hand and taking a glimpse into her eyes and then feeling a huge bang. I faintly hear her voice, she's whispering "help me". And there's nothing I can do. I've failed the only loves I've ever felt in my life.

          I going to miss my 2 angels and wish God is going to watch over them but for me, I'm going to have to live a life, a life with a lost love.   

Drawing A Blank

Drawing a blank, I want to blame it on my pen but it's my mind that's
out of ink. I stare at the empty pages wondering what kind of magical
words I can fill them with, thinking of the deranged thoughts this mad
man can place in this pad so these actions can escape my mind and give
me moments of clarity. I know I need to let them out before the
monster inside escapes and carries them out. These are truly the dark
ages for my imperfect yet persilety planing evil mind. As I extract
these words to paper. In one hand I hold a pen and in the other I hold
my favorite toy pokey. My 6 inch blade that pierces skin on contact,
that has cut my skin dozens of times. Staring at them both trying to
figure out which shall be my instrument of art for the day. Will I
paint the paper blue with ink or will I paint the walls red with blood.

The Daily Word

Being that it's Sunday I figured I'd address religion as that for most
of you this being the most holy day. Butwhy? Because man says so?
Because man said that we should pick one day a raise it above the
other 6 and use it as a day to praise the lord? Why only one day? Why
Sunday? Because of a book writen by men who gathered and said God
spoke to them and that Jesus walked with them? All of a sudden this
became law? I question these stories in the bible, I question the
reason why we must go to church on Sundays. I question religion and
most of all, I question faith. How can a man of sin teach me how not
to sin? What makes this man or woman in a robe anymore holyer than me?
What have they done or gone through that makes them a vesel of god?
And when these self aleged vesels go a stray, what then gives us the
right to judge them when in life you call them Gods messengers? How do
you know that they are not just doing Gids bidding? What if the bible
is not gods words? What if this is a book written by the devil and in
Gods eyes we are cometting acts if sin when we belive we are carring
out his will? You don't know. I don't know. And when we do find out,
it might just be too late. I have no answer to these question I ask,
and I'm not sure I want them. But I know for a fact that no one out
there wants answers. If they didn't get the answers they wanted, it
would spin there lives into such a loop they would never be able to
recover from. So I guess we will contuine to live in out sheltered
worlds and not seek out the truth and fear the answers, but I will
always contuine to ask the questions.