https://www.facebook.com/103071075539213/

Shades of EMOTION, Union City, TN (2026)

05/23/2026

Continue to enjoy of my true, life story, which will not only prepare you for that but will ultimately prepare you for this one...

06/26/2024

Somewhere along the journey of my conflicted and troubled past, I lost myself...and when I dug through the debris of dark and twisted emotions, instead of finding myself......he found me instead. We all have a dark side; said it best: "Off the court, I'm Kobe Bryant, but when I step in there to play, I'm the Black Mamba..."

It's strange how something bad can be happening while the sun shines as if everything is okay. A sunny day during a wicked moment is like bystanders smiling at you while you're being beaten to a pulp. Mother Nature cheesed down at my lowered head as I walked along the sidewalk in the neighborhood. Shame, sorrow, concern and regret...they were the elephants that walked behind me that day as the incident kept replaying on my mind's projector like a looped video. Destiny's face -so angry...her voice -so hateful. I was ashamed of myself. I felt like a complete coward for letting her whoop my ass...but he made me feel...protected. He did what love refused to do: he stood up for me and pulled the lioness off of her prey and shut her down completely; I was her target...and she became his. But who was he? What was he? And how long had he been hiding in my emotions?

Wait...but did he hurt her? Her leg -did he bruise it? Her wrists -were they sore? Sorrow and concern replaced shame as I remembered how hard he had pressed his knee into her thigh. I shook my head and tried to erase the image of his powerful hands squeezing the circulation out of her vulnerable wrists. His face was so angry and scary-looking, scary enough to make Destiny's closed eyes hide behind its own lids. Though he made me feel protected, he also made me feel...possessed...and that was the scariest part of it all. I had no control over my own body, nor my vocal cords, and a huge part of my emotional program had been shut down; I felt no love. I felt no empathy for the physical pain that she was in. But what I did feel were 4 emotions that he had been feeding on; harsh feelings that were living with him and growing, unaware, for years: pain, anger, rage, and hatred -him breaking free from love's grasp was like a door being ripped off of its hinges so when he escaped, they escaped with him, and they immediately mutated into evil elephants that surrounded Destiny as she was held down. She saw them and turned scared. Brandy looked at them and became nervous. They filled the van with a borderline-demonic aura.

Life impregnated me with quadruplets in a bed of my harsh past: a dad who seemingly didn't want me...peers who daily ridiculed me...girls that left me for simply being the "good guy"...then Destiny neglecting me for loving her...and then blatantly abusing me for the way that another man had blatantly hurt her. All of it was nasty and poisonous food that was shoved in my face and forced into my mouth and, in turn, was unknowingly fed to emotions that grew from it. Her fists and feet should have caused me to miscarry, but they triggered a premature birth that shocked us all...because none of us knew that I was pregnant...and neither of us thought that I was capable of delivering such wickedness...because love was all that I had ever showed Destiny, even when she wasn't mine.

03/15/2024

They say that life is short...but from my experiences, I say that life is full of unexpected, short . I was about 21 yrs old as I stood outside of a bus station in Cali' with a girl with the beauty of a goddess. We rode together from Texas to California. Open your minds for a few minutes and see our ...

A light breeze swept through the area and caused us to briefly look into the night skies. When our eyes reconnected, we saw the reflection of our end season...our time together had come to an end.
"I...I have to go and wait in line to get my ticket."
She adjusted her purse straps over her shoulder then turned her body to face mine and took my hands into hers -face to face- eye contact as sincere as an apology.
"Look, I want you to know that I'm not the type of girl that opens up to a guy the way that I opened up to you. I don't like talking about my dad, and I'm honestly not the type of girl that exposes 'that' side of myself to a guy so quickly, but there's something about you that makes me completely comfortable in my mind and in my body. Like, I...I can't even explain it. That's how I know that you are a very special guy. I promise to never forget you, Danny. Please take care of yourself."
The sincerety in her final words was felt by the periodic squeezing of her hands. To look a person in the eye for the last time that you know you will never see again summons a very rare look. So as my heart digested her words, I looked into her soul; her spirit was as pure as her beauty.
"I'm glad that you opened up about your dad because it made me feel comfortable enough to open up about mine, somethin' that I don't like to do either, but'choo said some things that I needed to hear. You probably even saved me from hatin' him for the rest of my life." I briefly looked away for a few seconds and blinked bitterness out of my eyes before reconnecting with her soul. "Look, Vanessa...your beauty is flawless, and you have the perfect body. Hell, you can have 'any' man you want in this world so your looks are a blessing...but they're also a curse...'cause throughout your life, you'll attract the wrong attention from men; men who will only wanna have s*x wit'choo. The way you look is a distraction from your personality, from the way your eyes light up when you smile, from your caring ways, and from that genuine heart that you have. Men won't see any of that because of how you look. But 'you' just know that you are a lot more than how you look. Know that your heart looks better than your body. Always remember that there's a lot more to you than just s*x. Because a man can make a woman feel like that's all she good for. Our short time together was destined, Vanessa. So I promise to never forget about'choo either."

My grip was firm; my eye contact was strong. I wanted to make sure that my last words would guarantee that she would remember me in ways more than just a new experience. We were connected by our joined hands but also by our tethered spirits and even more so by the power of destiny. She opened her mouth to say more but knew that even our overtime had expired so we ended the rare occassion with a hug as genuine as the embrace of a toddler. With the hands being directly connected to the emotions, they knew exactly where to go...to the center of the upper back. Brief rubbing told each other to take care without our lips mumbling a single word. Then we sealed the decision of fate with a slow connection of the lips, filled with so many different shades of emotion, eyes tightly closed, unison-moans empty of lust but present with unspoken words that we had no time to exchange. Time slowly peeled us away from each other then she hesitated before turning and walking away like a model who didn't win first place. I watched her, motionless, and hoped that she would look back and show me her beauty one last time but knew that she didn't want me to see her teary eyes...

01/16/2024

The title of my book makes it sound like it's full of only mushy emotions, right? Well my work is the perfect example to never judge a book by its cover.

So ladies, there's a place so beautiful, so...erotic...that it cannot be seen with the eyes, and only a certain type of man can show it to your lifted soul. It's a place where only a handful of women have had the blissful pleasure to vacation to, an exotic existence that every woman should experience but will not because a lot of women s*xually engage themselves with selfish men. You see, *******us (oral stimulation of the female genitalia) is supposed to be an unselfish art, but most men are so focused on their own wants and needs that even when they do perform it, they execute it selfishly and do not care about whether or not it is done right. They view it only as an act instead of as an art; therefore, their oral effort is mediocre at best and lasts long enough to coast a woman into the middle of disappointment.

Only unselfish men understand that cu*******us is an art to be mastered. By seeing it that way, a man learns to become one with the cl****is and identifies the sensitive nerves in its tip to know which ones to suck and which ones to lick and which ones can handle the most pressure versus the ones that only require soft strokes and twirls. He learns how to slowly part the l***a majora and minora -those succulent wet lips- with the under side of his tongue. Unselfish men have a pleaser trait that makes them moan to a woman's pu🤭y and will kiss and suck on her lips as if they were on her face. They're aware of the tender nerves in a woman's opening and will acknowledge them with circular twirls and a series of tongue dips that will send quivers up her inner thighs. And when he senses that she's ready to leave her body, her c**t becomes his primary focus...suck it, twirl it, lick it...faster and faster...then his spirit smiles at her soul as he sucks it right out of her body and teleports it to that magical place where the worry of a woman doesn't exist...a full body massage experienced in milliseconds...a place so beautiful that she would leave life as she knows it behind and move to that euphoric world if she could...

06/02/2023

I was 19 years old in this one...

The breeze felt good as Mother Nature exhaled her afternoon, Summer breath onto my greased scalp. I was walking on the sidewalk parallel to East Gate and approached a STOP sign on the corner of Nash and College street. A group of thugged-out boys and men gathered across the street on a side walk in front of East Gate as they puff-puff-passed a blunt, hats cocked to the left and pants sagged like pissy baby diapers; some sagged to just above their knee caps and held onto their belt buckles to keep their pants from falling. Red, pocketed bandanas corresponded with their fitted caps and exposed their status: Vice Lords or wannabes, and their gown-like shirts reinforced the correspondence because they were either red or white.
They looked gangsta' and cool to me so I made sure that my sag was on point to hopefully look as cool as them. But in the process of mimicking style, I wanted my own so I coordinated bandana colors with the dominant color I wore for the day. That day I wore a long, white T, two sizes bigger than I was; the sleeves reached down to the middle of my forearms. My generic-brand jeans were baggy and sagged out, and I rocked all-white Lugz shoes. So to add my own style, I wrapped a neatly-folded, white bandana around my right wrist. I never saw anyone wear bandanas on any parts of their bodies, other than their heads back then, so that ideal laid the foundation for my style, and I built on it from there.
Since bandanas were just $1 at Fred's, I had all colors except pink and purple. I folded and ironed every one of them and hung them in my closet for easy access. Bandanas were my first collection of anything new so I wore them with pride. Other than on my right wrist, they were tucked in my front-right or back-right pants pocket and hung down to my knee or tied onto my head and covered with a matching fitted hat. And when I really felt like dressing 'hood, I would roll up either pants leg and tie a bandana around it to hold it up and would have another offsetting, colored bandana usually tied around my wrist. My use of bandanas was like a 4th petal that isolated my style from everyone else's in town and actually got me a lot of attention, more than I ever received in school, and primarily from the girls. Bandanas became a key source of self esteem, which slowly rose like I had injected it with a bottle of Fix-a-Flat; my confidence had been issued a promotion.

So to the girls, I was the light-skinned guy with long, pretty hair (as they used to say) who always wore bandanas that matched his clothes, and to the guys I was the dude that rocked the bandanas who could rap really good. So long hair, rap, and bandanas were the three food sources that were fed to the two, growing elephants that walked with me everywhere I went...confidence and self esteem.

03/30/2023

I was 19 in this pic. It was our first time going to California and also our first time at a beach. Back then the experience was all about girls and fun, but when I wrote my book and looked back at that moment as a man, I see it a lot differently. Look at the smile on my face in the pic...it was only a smile that hid so many emotions.

A good-size wave sent bubbly ripples racing to our feet and then disappeared into the sand. Wave after wave birthed ripple after ripple that provoked step after step further down shore. The beach water swallowed the virginity of my feet, and the ocean temperature caressed my ankle-nerves for the first time; it felt lukewarm, like hot shower water turning cold.
"This is beautiful, Jack," I said as I looked out at the way the sun glistened on the water. The reflection of Mother Nature's face on the waves wasn't priceless, but an $82 bus ticket was well worth the cost for that type of beauty -which was as rare as the half-naked beauties that surrounded us.
"Man, it really is, bruh," he responded and sounded mesmerized. As the ocean breezed through my tied hair and caressed Jackie's bare head, silence stood between us and watched as our spirits connected with the calm beast before us.
The Pacific Ocean. Covering about 31% of the earth, it is the largest ocean in the world. Standing before it was like a reminder that God is real and how powerful He is. It amazed me to see how calm the beast was but also knowing that it could become violent in a matter of minutes, and only God could control it when it did. Being less fortunate made me humble myself in front of my peers; being fortunate enough to stand in front of all that water made me humble myself in front of God.

As the Pacific blew its salty breath in my face, I thought about how ironic it was that meeting Destiny tied into my destiny of being there that day. I looked over at my best friend, deep in his own thoughts, and thought about how noone can choose who we meet in life, which had to mean that God destined my acquaintance with Destiny, knowing that I would share such a rare experience for a young man like me with a chosen friend who was closer to me than the brother whom I had pushed away. Guilt resurfaced for a moment then was exhaled into the ocean air. Other emotions were exhaled as well as I looked at small waves that crashed inland and pondered over my troubled life. Regret. Self-hate. Insecurity. Low self esteem. Filthiness. Seasoned depression. Aged pity; elderly shame. Old pain. Stale love. They all flowed away with the wind like the ashes of a person who meant something to you. Those emotions were negative, but they were important for how God used them to mold my character. However, I felt in my spirit that it was time to let them go. So I closed my eyes and exhaled, over and over, but one can't exhale without inhaling so with every exhale was an inhale of new emotions: forgiveness, grace, comfort, peace and happiness, hope, security, confidence...and love. The beach meant nice weather and pretty girls to me, but to God, it meant water - water is made to cleanse the body, inside and out, so He lead me all the way to California for a very particular baptism that could only take place at a beach -how ironic.
When I opened my eyes, I felt as refreshed as a cleared mind, and when I looked over at Jackie again, I could tell by the look on his face that he felt the same...

11/23/2022

My senior year in high school...I'll never forget when a girl brought a small, rectangular fake tattoo of this drawing to school that day. Everybody else saw only a pretty tattoo, but my young vision saw much more...

As conversations of post-graduation plans took place all around me, I sat silently and contained the excitement in my right hand as my eyes traced every detail of the picture before me. Every shade in the Latin female eye was duplicated by the creative cells in my right hemisphere. Each premeditated stroke was predestined in my mind as I studied the large teardrop that was connected to the corner of the eye. The teardrop was filled with the woman's face on the left, a Latin man's face on the right, wearing shades, a double-edged blade swirled into the bottom-left of the teardrop, and a guard shack on the bottom right -each subject was uniquely blended together to form a single teardrop. And there was a reflection of a mountain in the woman's eye.
It's ironic how the right hemisphere in the brain -which is responsible for artistic abilities- controls the left side of the body, yet it was my right hand that was responsible for the magic that I was about to create on the art paper before me.

I took longer than usual to study the picture because it was unlike anything that I had ever attempted, then after several minutes, as the first stroke of the .7 mm lead pencil caressed the fibers of the paper, I entered into the same zone that Jack entered in the movie Titanic when he drew Rose. My periphery became inaccessible, deactivated by a portaled vision that zoomed in on the eye with a 20/20 megapixel cornea lens that captured every grain of the paper. Selective hearing minimized environmental volume while maximizing the sound waves created by the stroking lead; my eardrums silently vibrated like the motor in an Andis trimmer. I saw and heard nothing but a gift in motion in front of me; I observed their sad story and heard her mute cries.

The human eye...the telescope that looks into the soul. It is the body's own lie detector test. It is important to look into one's eyes when conversing because since the eyes cannot lie, they tell a true, short story about an individual. The eyes are the most detailed part of the body, which is why an artist must capture every little detail precisely. Even if all other facial features are drawn correctly, if the eyes are drawn in error, the portrait will not look like the actual subject.
Almost an hour later, minutes before the bell, I looked into the eye of someone else's masterpiece then marveled at my own duplicated work as others stood and marveled around me. But we marveled for two different reasons. They were simply impressed by my accuracy; I was in awe of what I saw as I looked at the teardrop and observed the unknown woman's story: the Latin lady had been looking at a mountain and reminiscing about a tragic incident: her lover was the Latin man whom was stabbed in the guard shack with the dagger...and had died. As she cried to Mother Nature, she thought about the day that she lost her soulmate; the tear symbolized her sad memory.

The oriental lady had went to school at some point in her life, and like many of us students, she had found love and hoped for a happily ever after...but life twisted her fairy tale and lead her to a mountain...alone.
Many of us would find ourselves staring at mountains with tears in our eyes and would wonder how we ended up there...and the answer would be simple...life.

10/11/2022

The 'hood...that's where I was raised, but when people who don't know me hear me tell them that when that conversation is brought up, their look of disbelief always makes me crack a smile...because they only see me for who I am today; they just don't understand that I learned from all that I saw and experienced there. This insert is the perfect example (for me) to never forget where you came from...

The 'hood life was very addictive, which is why a lot of people chose to limit themselves to that lifestyle. Random fights, barely-dressed pretty girls and thugged-out bad boys, the slang, the dress code, the spontaneous drama, the drugs, and seemingly-unlimited dirty money to be made were all the things that 'hood folk lived for, and tourists came to indulge in. The normal life was too boring for some: a normal dress code meant no swagger; normal speech sounded too plain, a normal girl or boy, man or woman was no fun and offered no excitement, and a normal 9-to-5 didn't pay fast enough. But the 'hood life offered the opposite of all of that, which is why it was often referred to as The Trap.
Go to any 'hood and you'll see old men and women dressing like young people and still sounding like they never grew up. They are strung out and totally dependent on 'hood prescriptions; their kids' are left to fend for themselves because the parents got caught up in a trap more deadly than a bear mechanism. Then kids are raised by the 'hood and become products of that inconsiderate environment, and if they don't notice for themselves that it's all a trap, the cycle will forever repeat itself.

Being an outcast the majority of my life caused me to walk alone whenever I wasn't in someone's passenger seat. Being alone forces you to think and makes you see things that would otherwise be overlooked. So as I walked the streets everyday, back and forth to school or paced the block to clear my troubled mind, I saw what I did not want to become; I observed and studied many different types of characters and saw what I would become if I allowed myself to stay there, if I allowed the many tempting temptations to wash my brain and poison my judgement. So even though I was influenced by a lot of what I saw, I refused to become another victim of The Trap. And even though the 'hood was all I knew, a part of me wanted to know more and wanted to see for myself how much greener the grass was on the other side of that life...

07/28/2022

I was 19 years old when I went to California for the first time, and before I left, I was given the opportunity to move there. You can imagine how excited I was...but I still lived with Moma at the time so I was a little nervous about what she would say.
I was sittin at the kitchen table while Moma had just finished cooking. And this is how that conversation went...

"So, Moma, the...the people in California that me and Jackie stayed with...the mother offered me to...to move there and live with 'em so that I can try and better myself since I graduated..."
Anxiety held my breath for me as I waited for her response and looked at the back of her head. So many thoughts whirled in my mind during the two seconds that followed, and I could just imagine how many more twirled in hers. I heard the knife being placed on the stove then I looked down at the table as she turned around to face me. A part of me was afraid to see the reaction on her face and whatever truth that was hidden in her eyes.
"Oh...oh, really?" she replied, semi-surprisingly.
"Mm-hm," I said, as I nodded. "I was surprised when she told me. But she told me to see what'choo think about it because she understand that you don't really know her like that, and she also understand how far California is from here."
Her hazel eyes were blinking thoughts that I couldn't see.
"Well, yeah, she is right about that 'cause I really don't know that woman like that, Danny, but the times I did see her and speak to her, I could tell that she a good person and that she aint nothin' like these women around here. Wait a minute, aint she the woman that used to go to Reverend McCadney church a while back?"
"Yea, her and her husband. They both ministers."
I intentionally mentioned Mrs. Martin's husband so that Moma wouldn't think that I wanted to move in with just some woman I met. The h-word removed a few lines out of her forehead, but the m-word removed them all and replaced her skepticism with enthusiasm.
"Hmm..." She was surprised. Hearing that the Martins were ministers impressed her. I knew that a Christian mother would feel comfortable with another Christian mother watching over her child. "Well, 'least you'll be up there with church-goin' people and not just anybody," she said and then fell silent for a few seconds. Her expression was blank but her smile was fixed, like her eyes - deep thought...she slowly rubbed the spot on her arm that she unconsciously scratched whenever her mind was in a limbo state...her brain was in motherly-protective mode as she pondered about the verbal permission slip that she had just given me. Nervousness exhaled a sigh of relief in my conscience because in that moment, I knew that I was moving to California.
Moma nodded to herself, as if the self-negotiation had rendered approval of her decision. Her blank expression came to life a bit as she blinked out of that limbo state then she smiled at me with a motherly smile, face to face, when she took a seat in front of me. Physical closeness and respect summoned my eye contact.
"Danny, I knew the time would come that’choo would wanna move out and make some'n of ya'self, like April moved out and like Jermaine'll wanna move out some day, too..." That was the first time in my adult life that I had seen her smile dissipate in front of me. Her eyes were motherly but sad and serious. Then she looked away and continued. "And, I'll admit that it do scare me a lil' bit to know that I'ma be here all alone some day when y'all do leave..." She slowly started rubbing that spot on her arm for a few seconds then looked at me again. "But'choo a man now, Danny, and the only way you gon' learn how to be a man is if you get out there and stand on your own 2 feet and face life without me. So when you get up there with them people, you get'choo a job and help 'em out; don't just lay up on 'em 'cause you know I didn't raise you to be lazy." I respectfully nodded in agreement. "And Moma'll always be here if you need me, 'long as the good Lord willin' to leave me here so you' always welcome to move back in if you need to," she concluded, with a soft smile then stood up and offered her opened arms that had always shielded and protected me. "Now give me a hug."

The hug of a mother is the warmest and most loving embrace that a man will ever experience in his lifetime. Many women will hug a man and will also have a warm and loving embrace, but a thousand hugs from different women will never compare to the opened arms of one mother. When a man and a woman are embraced -body to body- the only physical bond that connects them is what's attached to their groins, but when a man and his mother embrace -body to body- the physical bond that will forever connect them is what was once attached to his belly button.
As I felt Moma kiss the side of my head, shades of bitter-sweet emotion held us tightly together and coursed through our hearts...then they changed course and started to travel downward...they settled in my belly button and filled the space in her uterus, my first home. I lived inside of her, connected, bonded, for 9 months then lived outside of her for 20 years...then in the midst of an embrace, in the presence of a permit to leave the nest, I felt that I was ready to live without her and attempt to build a nest of my own...almost 2,000 miles away...

07/20/2022

I'll never forget the sting from the liquid hurt that stained my face when I was in this situation...a 2-year situation that just about every adult reading this can relate to.
*Be very careful about what you do to a person and how you treat that woman or man...because it WILL come back to you. This is called .

My patience(1) lost weight...
It ran itself thin;
Chasing all of your f*ck-ups
Is what did itself in.
Murdered by its own legs,
Trampled by its own feet;
It slipped on your bullsh*t,
Crashed into the concrete.
It cried for your help,
It pleaded with your lies.
It whispered "Please stop..."-
You laughed as it died.
Tolerance(2) watched from a distance;
Angry tears in its eyes...
Drowned in its own sorrow;
Involuntary su***de.
Two twin brothers fought for their last breaths.
You showed no remorse...
Just laughed at their deaths.
Hurt oozes from my eyes;
Liquid hatred on my cheeks.
Resent bubbles to the surface,
Birthing evil as it leaks.
The presence of the twin souls
Has my vitals acting strange
Because my heart has gone cold
But blood is boiling in my veins.
Your f*ck-ups stop running...
Your weary eyes see my distance;
Your weary lies perk their ears-
Oh NOW you wanna listen?!?
You speed to me and crash hard
Into relentless resistance...
Your efforts are persistent
But rejection is consistent.
F*ck the tears in your eyes!-
Neglect is so vicious.
F*ck the fears in your cries!-
My intentions are malicious.
2 years of my tries
But you never payed attention!
B*itch, here's the goodbyes!-
I'm puttin that a** in dismission!
Get a grip on my struggle;
I'm gonna make you feel my strain.
Put your hands on my emotions;
Yeah, you're gonna feel this pain.
Wrap your arms around my mind;
Feel the stress on my brain.
I d*cked your head and f*cked it up!-
How's it feel to go insane?!
How's it feel to see her face
In what used to be your place?
How's it feel to know her body
Is occupying your old space?
Your lies roughed me up
And shoved me with their words.
Your f*ck-ups strong-armed me
And forced me into hers.
That's right! Run, b*tch!!
Your own actions chase you down.
Regret grabs your feet,
Karma takes you to the ground.
You threw the
And even smiled at its sound...
I guess you forgot
That it would come back around.

04/27/2022

U can't b a less fortunate young man from little ole Union City and NOT feel a change after seeing California for the 1st time. This was how I felt at the age of 19 after I had just got back home that night...

Instead of unpacking right away, I decided to save that task for after work the next day so I showered instead. After washing away 30+ hours of accumulated, dead skin cells off of my body, I brushed my teeth then was about to leave the bathroom until I noticed its reflection staring back at me in the mirror, and it was huge. It was one of the biggest elephants that I had encountered at that point, and its presence was powerful...it was elevation. I had seen and experienced so much in a week's time that my vision had been altered. My eyes had been opened in a way that they never were. Before, I couldn't see a life past the boundaries that less fortune and disadvantages place on an impoverished mind, but God can always see what we cannot. Years of shame, pity, depression...a life filled with anguish...all of the elephants that had followed me around throughout my life weighed me down on my end of life's plank, so much so that I could not even begin to look beyond my sad life. California, to me, meant fun, but to God, it meant elevation -so He placed that huge elephant on the other end of the plank to elevate my view on life; He wanted me to "see" what He "saw"...the irony...

Shades of EMOTION

05/23/2026

06/26/2024

03/15/2024

01/16/2024

06/02/2023

03/30/2023

11/23/2022

10/11/2022

07/28/2022

07/20/2022

04/27/2022

Address

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share

Category

Listing takedown request