Small, insignificant, yup that’s a pebble

Sticking under my shoe, making me so uneasy.

Getting in my sock, just have to get it out.

Pebbles in my pigeon peas…crunch!!!

Stumping my toe…ouch!!!


One more pebble causes the well to overflow

One more pebble to block that leaking hole.


You can avoid a boulder it’s easy to spot

Pebbles… steups…they’re little spots, that

Get in everything, gosh they’re everywhere

Some smooth, some sharp, some round and kinda square.


Smaller than my imagination, yet big enough to stop my engine abrupt!

Smaller than my foot but, if I step too hard then I howl with pain and it’s now bigger than I suspected.


Small you think you are,

Small is good. Small can see the big picture more than any boulder would…could…admit.


Small beginnings don’t frown on them, small things observe them close.

Pebbles can do boulder feats if we just look.




Copyright S2J2 Publishings 2013

My Body Is/Was A Temple

My body is/was a temple, a sacred place for me
A place of beauty, a space of peace, where I can meet with me
Where God and I would converse, discuss and disagree
Pondering on the universe, ponder eternity.
My body is/was a temple, with wonderfully made
Curves, hips, thick lips and thighs
Six pack, biceps, legs…eyes… behold
A treasured, to respected and honour
As all temples should be
Taking time to feed it, so it would take care of me.
My body is/was a temple, but it’s the main attraction
A trophy, a prize on display in the butcher’s market
In pumps and minis, jeans so skinny and bosoms well revealed
A flirt, a beer, a bump and grind
A twist of rum and rind
My body is/was a temple, and it is no matter how I dress
So why does it enjoy being objectified and other times reject?
Pop music says I’m important, because my booty can roll
Drake says because my hotline rings, you better answer that phone
Joe is looking for the subway
And with Joe, I’m happy to go down low.
My body is/was a temple, but now it’s all confused
Temple or savannah… free fares to see it move
It’s eye candy, it’s a treat, come see me by the bar
You pay for the display, of disguised waitresses and waiters.
My body is/was a temple, let’s fight to make it free
Let loose because we can, released from testosterone’s captivity
Keep testosterone as breeders only thinking with one head
Teach them to be lustful morons, yes! pump it in their head
My body is/was a temple, but we’ll soon have to choose
A temple is more than concrete, but a place of worth and value
Where I can be me as designed to be with no disparity
Where light is right and guides my life, and my body, yes this body is his space.
My space
My body is…a…temple

©S2J2 Publishings 2015

Testicular Fortitude

Testicular Fortitude



Father’s Day… a difficult time for many, a special time for some to celebrate and a nightmare for others.

I wonder, perhaps you do too, why it “appears” that Father’s day has less pomp and ceremony than Mother’s Day. I am not sure if it was always this way or…it’s just something that developed over time. Whatever the reason, there seems to be less attention paid to it as a commercial event.

My story may, or may not be similar to yours. I grew up with an abusive father. I saw and experienced abuse in my family of seven until my parents divorced when I was about 10 years old. It was interesting that I did learn to respect and honour my father regardless. My mother ensured that we understood the importance of honouring our father.


I learnt quite a bit from my father too, things I still try to emulate. The importance of being early; as far as I can remember my father was seldom late, He was a fireman, and I guess as a fireman the importance of one second was crucial to life or death. I remember shiny clean shoes – to this day I still use traditional polish, brush, cloth and wax, a learned art. Cooking; my father is a sweet hand man. His fish broth is to die for and he makes a wicked ginger-beer. Unknown to most, my father is actually a pretty good singer. Maybe someday he and I would share a stage.


Unfortunately or fortunately (depending on perspective), I learned how not to treat a woman, I learned how not to be unfaithful. I learned how not to give up on your dreams and passions. You see, by observing the way he treated my mother, I decided that I did not want to be remembered that way, that I did not want to model that for my son and daughters. My father wanted to be a medical doctor, a dream he gave up on due to the circumstances of his family. I endeavoured not to give up on my dreams.

Isn’t it ironic that probably the most sensitive and potentially crippling part of a man’s anatomy is also used to describe his strength? We are often asked, “Do you have the Testicular Fortitude?” Fortitude to make decisions, to go against the tide. Men, let’s be honest: many of us have dropped the ball (lol, did you see that?), and shown that we don’t have testicles at all when it comes to fathering. We take the easy way out, we follow the negative narrative that many of us experienced and just go with the flow. Yet, out of these same testicles is part of another generation yearning for some direction.


Well, I decided to engineer a change in the narrative when I read David’s deathbed charge to his son Solomon. The real measure of testicular fortitude in 1 Kings. “I am about to go the way of all the earth,” he said. “So be strong, act like a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires: Walk in obedience to him, and keep his decrees and commands, his laws and regulations, as written in the Law of Moses. Do this so that you may prosper in all you do and wherever you go” 1 Kings 2:2-3 NIV


Do we really have the testicular fortitude? Or do we just know how to use our testicles?

We can change the narrative. Maybe Father’s day would be a greater celebration if we fathers apologised to our sons and daughters, let them know that we too may be struggling because our testicles have been damaged, and we have lost some fortitude. It is never too broken to mend, even the most sensitive parts can be healed. To borrow the now famous catch phrase from the former POTUS. Yes we can! Show testicular fortitude, Yes we can! Engineer and new generation, Yes we can! Heal the broken ones, Yes we can! Celebrate Father’s Day.

Happy Father’s Day to all the Father’s



Who told you black was ugly?

Who Taught you to fear your skin?

Without black we cannot see the stars.

Without black where would red, green, white and yellow begin?

I know it wasn’t God! because from your beauty all life would begin.

Because from your beauty all life would begin.


Who told you that hair could be nappy?

Who told you kinks were dirty?

Who told you fros were wrong and should be frowned upon

I know it wasn’t God!

For he gave you your hair as a crown.


Who told you, you were uncivilised?

Who told you, you couldn’t speak?

Who told you, you were illiterate, when for centuries you could already read?

Who told you your language was gibberish?

Who told you to change your name?

I know it wasn’t God!

Because he knows and called you by name


Who told you your drum was evil?

Who told you your rhythm was demonic?

Who told you to stop playing it?

And to play their rhythm…their music?

Who told you your music was dirty?

Who told you stop that song?

I know it wasn’t God?

He’s the author of music. he created it all.


Who told you your dance was unholy?

Who told you not to move your waist?

Who told you, you are a sex symbol,

Good for nothing except a nightly fling?

Who told you to stop dancing and taught you their dance instead?

I know it wasn’t God!

Diversity in praise is his plan.


Whoever told you is a liar!

Whoever told you is a thief!

Whoever told you wants to steal, kill and destroy!

Take away what God created you to be.

Whoever wants to rule you!

Whoever told you doesn’t care!

Whoever told you, is ignorant to the fact that God looked at you and said…

“It is very good”


Break free of the shackles

Free your mind of the chains

Let God’s image be seen in your blackness

His beauty…His creation…His and only…His




Stephen John

Published S2J2 Publishings