Hi my Name is (original poem)

Hi my name is Jude. And I’m a poet. I’m also a custodian (that’s janitor for all you lay people). I vacuum carpets, scrub toilets and clean up vomit for a living. Not the most glamorous life style, but it pays the bills and puts a roof over my head, food in my belly and a nice warm bed. Better than most I would say.

But here’s the problem some have noticed and see it as their duty, nay… their right. To correct me.

“Jude,
You over think,
You’re insecure,
And you’re too emotional.”

In lay man’s terms I must be a woman.
Because women are into all things cutesy… “like poetry.”

My response: Listen here, meat head.

I might not be a 6’ 1” 200 lbs of muscular sexiness, I might not be able to grow such a magnificent, burly man bush, I might not be able to break ankles like Jordan, or bust techno-hopic, electric bugaloo, tutting, strutting, ka dunk a dunk dance steps, or even enjoy the normal man games like football or 2k11.

I’m not you and I’m you… I’m me!

5’ 5” 200 and some odd lbs of Jello-y goodness who’s able to grow at least some kind of furry chinchilla. I might not be able to juke moves and throw down J’s but I play a mean game of ping pong. Dance steps? I get my rhythm from DDR and Kinect.

Aye-e-aye-e-aye I’m a little butter fly! I said it, and what?! I enjoy the theater arts, drinking overpriced Oolong tea and musical like “the hills are alive.. with the sound of music…”

But still you resist. Men aren’t suppose too be so emotional. You’re too emotional.

Well what can I do?

Because for years I’ve been asking God to change me, make me new. Take me back to a time before I learned of this depression, take away these suicidal tendencies, this madness, this anger, this bitterness, take it all away from me. Make me a better son, a better brother, a better man. And you know how God answered me?

Silence.

And it damn near killed me. But what doesn’t kill you makes you tough as diamonds. I’ve gone through so much prolific drama you can call it “Boys over Flowers: Part 2.”

But I thank God that I’m not like you…or you or you or especially you cause then I’d probably go insane

But see, I’m me.

A man who vent’s his heart out through poetry. Through spoken rhyme, words and rhythm. That flow and ignite from the depths of my being, my very soul, and I let the Holy Spirit Roll. I’m fascinating and I know it. Neurotic and I show it… through. These. Words.

I’m unique, uncommon, I’m different, diverse, I’m wonderfully and fearfully fashioned in God owns image and here the trippy part… so are you.

Therefore I raise my glass to you. You bunch of freaks and I mean that in the nicest of ways.

So please, before you notice the speck in my eye and tell me how insecure, loud mouthed, emotional, over reactor I am, understand…

That I know this and I don’t intend to change because

I have come to terms with who I am and who I am in Christ.
And it has been a wonderfully amazing, wild ride.