Gospel 317 ~Ask Your Mother B~

Instead of looking for the perfect woman, the goddess, I’d like to think of a girl that would love Braxton as much as I do. I’m already crying enough for two, so let some woman kick my ass for what happened to him. “Ask Your Mother B.”

Friday, May 14, 2021

Gospel 317 ~Ask Your Mother B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and it’s because I’m “creative,” or I like to think. Thinking about who Braxton’s Mom is.

She would have to be an early riser. I know I haven’t been the past few days. It’s going 8:30 AM about, which is super late for me. If there’s light in the sky, we walk him and me. Hell, I couldn’t even open the back gate a few days ago. It’s not me being sad, just the rain, hmm. Braxton would want her to be a better cook, not that he ever complained about mine. I can’t help wondering did all those McDonald’s fries have something to do with his passing. They last forever, you know. With all the food both B III and I shared, I killed him. Once again, I will never let go of that point. Then again, Mom blames herself.

Not that I would want Braxton’s Mom doing that. No, I am guilty. If she wants to blame me… It would be karma catching up to me. My Ma never blamed my “Father” for anything, and see how I feel about that man? To make B think the same of me, oh, that’s a crime, yep. On the other side of the equation, she’s not one of those “wait till your father gets home” types. Shall I imagine such love like my wife being here, and B runs from her to greet me? He chose me over everyone. He loves our kids, loves his Mom, but it’s Dad. I’m back. It took his death to turn me away from boobs, but my life… his world.

Only one woman outside the family held his sway, and that’s my second best friend. I’ve said before how she had to let him walk all over her, sharing four months of food and treats. There was a cake for his birthday and presents. Braxton’s party was an incredible time. His last days though… no Braxton, I’ll carry you, I’ll get you more water, I’ll help you. If any mother could do better, I would welcome that rather than him dying in my arms ever. Ask your Mom to save you even if you hate me for the rest of your life, son. Men save gods all the time; that’s why they’re not gods. Dog spelled backward, and Mother is God. Ask Your Mother B.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Gospel 316 ~To B A Mom~

If I wasn’t so damn Depressed… please, God, no, I would say I could explode at any time. Hell, just saying that got me on some list, but I’m talking about the movie “Spontaneous” (2020). Moms might get mad at me, but what else is new. To B A Mom

Thursday, May 13, 2021

Gospel 316 ~To B A Mom~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? How about how dare I, am I right? But for now, it’s just us two.

I was nowhere near ready to be your father and your Mom… Back when I was only your uncle, but you know how your Mom was. She called you her “real first baby,” yep. Braxton, I texted your grandmommy too. Now I didn’t send her anything, and doesn’t that sound familiar. I didn’t get you a Christmas present but for your sweet sixteen B… What would have been, but I thought we had more time. I’m sure that’s what your furry Mom thought too. Women and life um… Bitches, man

Again how dare I, but as the song goes, “That I’ll be standing right here talking to you.” Well, more like lounging around in bed. It’s been 102 days since the vet “said you sailed a big ship. Said you sailed away.” Well more poetically, like something from my playlist. Anything to cover up the silence B. I can’t remember crying in my Ma’s arms or any woman’s, to be honest. Right now, I can still feel you beside me. You’re lying against my legs, or you’re warm under the covers. There are clean clothes for you to indulge in. You could listen to me bitch to the ladies, Inspector Echo, Dear Future Wife, Dirty Diana. Of course, you replaced the last one, and you never met Dear Future Wife, aka your Mom. The book I’m going to write next NaNoWriMo could be 50,000 words of I’m sorry, remember that? Boys need a Mom, and I’m not being political there.

Last night after watching “Spontaneous” (2020), I felt pretty… Depressed. Today I don’t want to think about Depression, the fourth stage of grief. Watching all the Republican bull afterward didn’t help. I understand why my sister raised you watching Disney. Exploding wouldn’t be so bad, B III. It wasn’t so quick for you, I know, but five days and you were gone. Boom! When Mara was walking away covered in um, such and such blood, that’s how I felt, and I didn’t have my Ma or anybody to hold me. I bitch to you, Braxton. My bannerman, my best friend, my boy. Whoever would have been my wife and your Mom, damn, that’s asking everything.

I’ve shed enough tears for two. To B A Mom

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 315 ~A Mom’s B Leaving~

Once in my life, I wanted to be a fighter pilot. Not really to serve but “reasons.” I don’t blame people for not counting on me. I can’t trust myself. But to not be a good enough son or especially a father because I’ll “F Up.” A Mom’s B Leaving.

Wednesday, May 12, 2021

Gospel 315 ~A Mom’s B Leaving~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I know it won’t be because of puns. Hell, I’ll take care of my mom.

Did that sound “sinister,” Inspector? You know what I mean, but I wasn’t even able to look after B III. It’s why he’s on the nightstand and not on the bed. I was saying today, May 8… yes, it’s going to be a bad week; I was thinking of that song “You Were Loved,” yep. Like mother like son, I guess. My Ma’s a big fan of Whitney Houston. While I can’t say I am, this song has made it onto my playlist for B III. Well, that is until the fucking ASM took it away from me. Should I be ashamed I’m still going on about that meathead bastard? Anyway, there is one verse that keeps playing between Charlie Brown’s language and my RAGE.

“When somebody cares that you’re alive
When somebody trusts you with their life.”
You Were Loved by Whitney Houston

My Ma doesn’t trust me. I’m always one to be direct, like saying I killed Braxton. Let me share a story with you. One night, still living with My Olds in my late twenties… another part of my shame? Okay, it’s late enough that Braxton stayed within his comfy spot. Strangely enough, my Ma comes downstairs and leaves. She didn’t say a word, only she hopped in the car and drove away. I figured something happened to my “father’s” truck, and she went to pick him up or something. In the morning, I found out she thought she was having a heart attack and drove to the nearby fire station for help. She could have died, but she didn’t trust me enough to say “HELP.”

Now I could play it as her wanting to protect me. A mother protects her kids, and she didn’t want me to see her like that. But something happened at the Day Job, and um, I have two words for you “short bus.” We’ll get into that at some point, but yep Ma and B. Ma knew I’d fuck up.

Does Braxton feel the same way? Every Wednesday, I remember him crying, and I ignored him, and come Thursday, it was as if he’d gotten over it. I have admired his strength over those last days, but no Inspector Echo. He knew his Daddy couldn’t make it better, but he had to save himself. Braxton didn’t fail; I did. Fuck up. A Mom’s B Leaving

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Gospel 037 ~Mother Of Excuses Will~

Even if I made that billion dollars I’m always professing to have, I’m sure my Mom would not be pleased I live my life “This Way.” Only being a starving artist ain’t winning me any points either. “Mother Of Excuses Will”

Friday, August 7, 2020

Gospel 037 ~Mother Of Excuses Will~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I should be reading more. One of my favored motivations talks about how Warren Buffett reads for six hours a day. We all know that Oprah Winfrey is obsessed with books. I wanted to fashion myself after Bill Gates and at least read a book a week. Here it is another Friday, and I haven’t picked up my latest book, “Too Late.” Once again, I haven’t looked at “For A Fine, Cherry Spread” since I won Camp NaNoWriMo. Now the question is, why haven’t I? My how time flies.

As the song goes, “I came up with a million excuses.” No, Lady Sophia, I don’t miss the Day Job. As a matter of fact, I’ve been kicking myself all this week, worrying. Dale Carnegie must be rolling in his grave. I don’t see myself as Asa Jackson and his obsession with Sloan. Let’s keep it real. Every Erotica I read, the guy is “infatuated” with the girl. You know what I wanted to say, but Grammarly would have dinged me for using the same word. Anyway, MILF Tres, aka Special K, said she wanted a guy “passionate” about her. I am… with seeing her Yabbos again and totally naked. Sigh, before I head down a Dirty Diana train of thought, hell, it’s taken me a week to clear my inbox. I’m almost there. Only would my mother be proud?

That leads me to today and the reason I’m not reading or writing. What we’re doing, Lady Sophia is having a conversation. Last night, I had this bad dream, which is pretty different because it was one of my “Sexxx Dreams” thanks, Lady Gaga. Did I ever mention how kickass Sick Fux By Tillie Cole is? So I was doing something pretty “effed” up. I’m not sure what it could have been… well, again, I’m trying to keep it in my pants. In the dream, though, my Mom caught me, and um, that was that. You know how I conceive any vision, Lady Sophia. They serve as messages, most of the time, warnings. This dream might not even have anything to do with my mother. Yesterday I was talking about MILFS Uno, Dos, and Tres. All I know is, this morning, I wanted to get back reading. If only to dream of something other than the Mother Of Excuses Will.

I Will Have No Fear