without words

I have been absent.

absent minded, absent of heart. Set apart from thought and inspiration.

concluding the year, and exhausted from literary motivation.

tell me something

give me anything.

I want to write.

my eyes speak in volumes

"Her essence of beauty remains sustained in my world of thoughts." -LB

Good Grief

Hey everyone, Happy Holidays! I hope everyone has safe and pleasant travels. 

Has the economy affected your Christmas? I'm sure that is an obvious "yes," because it seems as if it has truly touched everyone. Rich or poor, white collar or blue, everyone has felt the rather of the market. In our household, we were told "we will be celebrating the true meaning of Christmas this year" which is the coated way of saying "hey money is hurting, so I love you." Which is fine, my brother and me are old enough to just receive a card. In fact, a simple hug. Christmas is about spending time with the love ones you care about, and I am surrounded by them. So NO GIFTS under a tree does not mean Christmas is absent. It's still in the heart. 

this cold heart of mine.

shivers

It's cold guys.

And not the "oh put  a hat on kind of cold"

I'm talking the bone chilling, brisk candor of mother nature's frigid breath

It's the cause for abbreviated conversations,

    increased walking paces and 

       head nods versus handshakes.

It's so cold my car hates being outside

my dog doesn't even second guess her location to urinate

Thermals are regularly worn

sweaters are presented and adorned 

it's just that kind of cold

and I'm not even talking about New England territories 

this is the northern most southern state...

or the southern most northern, either way

the night air is crisp and glacial 

it's when all things natural and man-made are stressed.

Diary entry #453 - age 19 - Jaclyn

"I feel lonely. This loneliness is not the absence of a particular person. I feel lonely from myself. The presence of my soul is dismal, a calamity of thoughts occupy my soul, bringing darkness and seclusion to the forefront. I never wanted to be president, an attorney or anyone of importance. Just to be happy. Untroubled from my career and unhindered from social parallels, I just wanted to be satisfied with life. Yet I feel I can see my life across from. The life I wanted to have and the life I live. The one I wanted to give and the one that takes. I have made mistakes which has led to this equidistant separation. What do I do to get back? My life is fucked and my daughter is doomed to a disaster. I already hear the laughter from family and friends thinking I couldn't raise kin. I'll prove them wrong, but first I must delete this song of repeated loneliness and rearrange it to a chord of independence."

Diary entry #523 - age 20 - Jaclyn

"Today, was a very trying day. I didn't expect it to go well at all; as a matter of fact, I could give a shit if it went well at all. What the hell does she want? Why? After all this time, why would she want to come back? Acting as if dialogue existed between us, I don't care if she has 'always loved me,' because she hasn't. If she did, she would have been there. Instead of the excuses of why she hasn't. I don't want her to see Kayleigh, she doesn't exist in her world and I want to keep it that way. She has some nerve, prying back into my life, after leaving in the middle of night. This is officially marked as one of the worst days of my life, I hate my mom, better yet I hate Caroline... she doesn't deserve the title of mother."

Diary entry #34 - age 16 - Jaclyn

"I wonder if he knew that same spot that he touches frightens me as much as it turns me on. The treasured area at which I dispose all my frustration is the weak point of my soul. The ravaged most cherished most abused of my possessions. The one I am supposed to control, has been in everyone else's jurisdiction except for my own. Taking and pleasing as they wish. Don't get me wrong, they aren't raping me, they aren't hurting me, but they aren't loving me. Isn't it supposed to be used for love?"

Diary entry #124 - age 17 - Jaclyn

"There is this attraction I cannot subdue. This guy I am drawn to, who possess no inclination to progress. Yet, I find every essence of his 'I don't care demeanor' so flawlessly attractive. He doesn't even smile in my direction, but he looks. So I know he cares, maybe not enough to say hello, but enough to wonder: How can this girl four years younger than me give me what I need? I know enough. Besides what's it to him, I just think he's cute, so that one thing he wants from me, I want right back. Just once. What's one more partner, its not like I have anything special for anyone to have anyways..."

Diary entry #405 - age 19 - Jaclyn

"I wish he still looked at me the same. No matter how much I seem to love him, he allows his pain to hurt me. I could never understand how his hard blows could result in him telling me 'I love you so much.' People look at me and compliment the beautiful girl, cherishing my physical appearance, but I feel so ugly inside. I feel ugly outside. If you looked at my arms, or lifted my shirt, the bruises camouflage what beauty you see. I never will be as good as he wants me to be, in fact I was never good enough for anyone. That's why mom left, that's why dad hit me. There's no single reason I should live."

"Except for her, she's not even four months and I see my life's traits happening all over for her to experience. I can't let her live like that. I want her to smile everyday in life."

Another one from a little while back

Loveless

Louis "th3rd" Bryant

 

A relationship consumed by sex
is a companionship meant to be vexed
as she physically holds on to you
she mentally grasps the latter
emotionally deserted
convulsions disguised as passion,
not allowing the love to be old fashion
the only time she looks in his eyes...
...she never looks in his eyes.

Never finished this...almost 6 months ago.

Giant Steps

July 25, 2008

Giant Steps

    Giant steps

Giant steps

 

So I had a moment to look at my life and examine what is left

   Took this second to appreciate the Giant Steps

You know

    the accomplishments, and the successes

  overcoming defeat, trudging through all the stresses

Like I learned my lesson and took a step back from some things

 This Giant Step back from succumbing to heavy drinking

 Progressing to a giant step forward to submit to heavy thinkin’

I was on the brink when

   Friendships were clenched by the thinness of a thread

And i could witness what was bread from disorderly behavior

So I prayed to my Savior and asked for another chance

I promised I wouldn’t dance with temptation nor thwart another relation

I was relieving frustrations through unnecessary altercations

So I looked in front of my feet, and saw the gap before me

Took a great leap, and amounted to a giant step

 

one kiss

"A beautiful girl, is kind enough to kiss you... You kiss her right back.

  I mean... who knows where that kiss will take you?"

Sounds poetic to me.

Where do your thoughts take you when you hear that? Ladies (of course arrange it to think of a male).

The comment derived from a conversation between a young man and an adult, in reference to the young man's disloyalty to the adult's daughter. I think its quite beautiful, thinking that the kiss will open doors, the kiss will show a new world, that one kiss could be the end of time as we know it.

You should NOT MISS THIS!!

Want to see me on stage????

Want to see others perform too?

Want to have a great night and be around amazing people!?

Come to my Holiday Poetry Event. My first time ever hosting an open mic night. But, I'm sure it won't be the last!! Enjoy yourself to the beautiful words and lovely atmosphere!!

More info at:

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=39312557193&ref=ts

What happens next? Bush leaves the White House

So the score is 54 to 78. Team red white & azure are down and the clock is ticking. The panicking players are sweaty, tired and feeling hopeless. Their fearless coach sits on the bench, legs crossed, slouching back giving off a cavalier demeanor.

The point guard looks over to the sideline for direction, but the coach barely shrugs as he looks back with a half-witted grin. Suddenly the guard calls a time out. 

"Coach, this is the last quarter, what do you want us to do?"

"Well, uhh. Score some points damnit!"

The players looked puzzled, for the answer was obvious, but what about the strategy.

"Okay, but what do want us to do? Press, full court press, man to man, zone, ISO?"

"C'mon why are you throwing all this terminology out there, just win the game. Shoot the ball, and keep shooting and keep shooting! Now get on out there and win, I made a lot of promises (and bets) on this game. I REASSURED everyone we would win this game!!"

The team returned to the floor. Playing as if they were 5 individuals trying to win them game versus a collective unit with strategy. The shot, and missed. Shot & missed. Shot & missed. They looked over to their coach, who remained poised and confident that they were going to win.

Time started to run out and the score was not nearly enough to win the game. 

As expected. The team lost. Yet the coach walked so cocky. 

The team hung its head and walked slowly off the court. One of the players muttered,

"I hate having Bush as our coach."

M. Shadows, Synyster Gates, Johnny Christ, Zacky Vengeance & The Rev

So it has been 4 days!

Have you missed me at all? 

Really? Wonderful!

Well I had a onerous conclusion to my weekend and then my health declined (being around the sneezing kids all day) but now I'm back. I feel better than before, thanks to a nice hard workout and sweat at the best concert for 2008. Yes I saw A7X...it was AMAZING! Absolutely Amazing!

Besides the moshing and drink throwing, crowd surfers and the sardine like standing room...wait. THATS WHAT MADE THE FUCKING SHOW!  I usually hate to be shoved and despise crowded venues, but that night, feeling so trapped made me feel so free. The sounds came from my heart and the band performed 100 times better than any album could have produced. Guys, I honestly can't describe in words (for once) the moments I shared last night.

((these are not my photos, nor are they from the show last evening, but these are the guys I listen to faithfully))

Friends

Friends.

Friendship, a state of mutual trust a supportive bond between individuals. It is not a required element of interaction nor is it customary to possess friendship in everyone you know. Friends forgive, friends are enduring, friends are (supposed to be) always honest.  Friends are not clones of yourself, in fact there are just the opposite. Friends possess unique traits that derive from your own. You don't want to exhaust your friendships, take them for granted, or forget about the cherished moments. One sided friendships, friendships with leverage, friendships laced with money... those can't be real friends. Losing friends, great friends, is never a good thing. Remembering great friendships makes me warm. Friendships that can span over time are always remarkable. The ones when you can call out the blue and talk as if you talked last week. Do your friends know you? When you grow older, space grows around you, friendships get spread apart, dissolved and tested for their trueness. Do they still know you?

Christmas Wish

"Son, what do you want for Christmas?" She asked.

"Oh umm, nothing really, maybe a sweater or some gas money, you've done enough so far."

Thats what he said as he exited the car, and entered the house. The one with no spouse, the one with the mouse who won't introduce himself. Yet produces enough wealth considering his consumption of food. What he really wished for was something only dreams can explore, or nightmares would touch. Only fantasize and such. Yes, he wanted to not wake up on Christmas day, while all the kids are anxious to play. Open their gifts and anticipating to say "thank you Santa." All I want is to sleep for eternity, is that much to ask for? It's not selfish nor is it expensive, it's not limited and certainly not apprehensive. My one wish is to die of a natural cause, cause that's beautiful to me, too much for Santa Claus? He prayed that one night, on Christmas eve, to not wake up tomorrow so that his family could grieve. I think its beautiful too, a symphony of life, to sleep forever on that

   one

        last 

                night.

stubborn mind

He looks at the screen. A myriad of letters combined and confined to a fifteen square inch space. His mind wanders. My mind wonders what he is thinking. Boredom covers his face, which masks his frustration. Calling on me for rescue, a refuge from learning. My assistance is limited. "It's your test," I said. Before the words finish leaving his mouth I intercept his sentence, "Yes you can." I doubt he lacks potential to accomplish reading tasks. He does lack the confidence, direction, stability, consistency, and support. What can I give him? A piece of my brain? An ounce of my heart? Since I can do neither...I will give him a piece of my time. Which is not enough.

Adjacent Meetings

You stare out the passenger side window, Van Goghing the scenery as it blurs by. A conscious effort to lift your head from the window sill becomes exigent and you continue to stare. As fast as the colors stream by you ponder why the destination is taking so long to reach. Although time has no boundary on your arrival you begin to wonder about departing anyway. 

While the vehicle halts at a red light. You can't help but to think of a disastrous scenario for your ordinary day. Once the light transitions to green you pray for a miscreant to neglect the traffic laws, ignore the symbol for red-means-stop and slam onto your side of the car at a blistering speed. Lunging thoughts, parts, glass, metal, rain, oil, and flesh in the momentums direction. You wish you could see this art. The beautiful halo of debris that surround the "accident" as survival is minimal and hope is only for heaven. Staring now from a birds eye view you rewind in slow motion and recreate the adjacent connection between strangers. Everyone becomes oh so familiar. You blink twice, and finger paint the scenery as your breath fogs the windows. 

Silent prayers for worst case scenarios so your bad doesn't seem so... bad.

Poor Karl !V

One screw up. I mean he cut my hair for over a year now, and this one screw up jeopardized our business relationship. Ultimately destroying our invested friendship. I was distraught, the fact that my hair had not looked flawless this time around damaged the rapport he set. Wait. So, after a year or so, one time can prevent me from EVER returning? The answer is YES. People do not remember all the GREAT, people focus on the one bad, Clinton, relationships I've been in, Michael Jackson, Michael Vick, R. Kelly, Roger Clemens, Pee Wee Herman, must I go on?! So yes poor Karl, he deserved more than one opportunity. The following week he could have transformed my fuck up of a hair situation to a masterpiece. Or he could have fucked it up again... so that's why he got one chance. I hope Karl is okay. I hope he learned from his mistake, not that I was teaching a lesson, it was self preservation. 

Poor Karl I!I

Karl always shook my hand. He talked to me man to man. He was a man, I was a young guy. Karl was my friend, and I treated him as such. If Karl needed a ride, I would've asked my dad to give him one. If Karl was upset, I'd tip him more to cheer him up. Karl was cool, you know? I think my invested business and friendship would have called him a friend. But he was just my barber. And friends give friends chances, but Karl's chance's were limited. In fact, they did not exist. Karl messed up one day. One screw up, that's all it took.

Never too full for pain. I guess

masochist (plural masochists)

1. someone who derives pleasure from receiving pain (masochism)

Plenty ordeals I seem to plunge myself within. I have labeled my behaviors somewhat masochistic. I don't receive sexual gratification or stimulated pleasure from pain. Subconsciously I deserve this title because not only do I continuously place myself in situations where I become the bad guy, but I must love it because this is redundant. I'm sorry to all of you. I mean that deeply. This is why...

Poor Karl II

Karl was chanceless. Yes, in my eyes he was my friend. One that I could tell about my grades, the girls I queued, and my hopes for the future. For twelve dollars every other week I was a friend in a chair. A client, a job, a gig. My bi-weekly conversationalist immortalized my hair for the first four days, until it began to wilt and default back to raw form in which it was time to schedule another appointment to revive my hair. Karl was my friend, Karl was cool. Karl understood the need for a young black man to appear engaging.

Poor Karl

As this cold rain slams on to the pavement, plodding away at its integrity. The subtle mystique intrigues me, as choral backgrounds of praise and glory are heard in the distance. Silently swiveling my head I come to think about Karl. Yes Karl, he was a smooth fellow, always presented himself in a genuine manner. He had a low-range voice that added to his suave comportment. Dress casual. Yes indeed he did read and his glasses didn't make him look dorky, it added to his reserved intelligence. 

Karl was wonderful at what he did. Never kept me waiting, and he kept the haters hating. I was content with Karl. I referred people to Karl as I told them I preferred no other person, but Karl. He was immortally my investment. And I was his client. And Karl... cut my hair.

Pyramid

Favorite word, "evenstar"

I believe in far regions that capture simplicity

Two favorite words, you first

It's when I have the chance to do worst

Favorite 3?

I'll buy dinner

May sound cheap, but to me she's a winner

The next four you may have already explored:

I love your writing

Hearing that never gets boring; it's exciting

inciting more verse 

Using this talent, I mean curse.

My words come genuine, never rehearsed

Pillow talk

Don't you just love late night conversations? Seeing that I am a conversationalist (NOT!) and I love being on the phone (HATE IT!) the evening talks are quite interesting. A majority of the time my inaudible responses to rather complex statements are conscious, and maybe intelligent. It is similar to intoxication, because half the time I can not remember what went on last night. Although it is more of a mental/inner body experience than a (oops I slept with her kind of thing). "What did I say?" Usually is the first thing that echoes in my head, because honestly, I know foul shit has erupted from the vault of my mind. The grotesque attributes that surface in the peak of the night are hardly admirable. In fact, it's a Th3rd and Infamous Mynded kind of thing (Dr. Jekyl & My Hyde). One part is a sufficient and enabled individual that seeks intellectual stimulation and spiritual sensation. The other is a condescending and pessimistic miscreant who delves in the behavior of ID like tendencies and callow characteristics. I wonder how the outside world perceives my nightly transformation. BWAHAHH

Rebel woman II

Finally, you give it a try. A girl commanded by her nine to five, no poetic or painting background. In fact, her hair doesn't even flow free, it's always unchanged... conforming to gravity. It's so boring. You hate to ask how she's doing or what she's up to, you always know the answer. Can't even ask her to smoke a joint with you, because you know how that upsets her.Sad to say, but it was inevitable, the conformist had to be let go. You decide to search for neither, the hippy is cool and the conformist is cleaner and just as your decision is final. Your eyes connect with the brown ones across the bookstore. In fact, this one has dreads, and her free flowing dress explains her demeanor. You decide to act upon the chance...just as you begin to speak she searches thru her purse looks up distressed and asked "do you have twenty dollars?"

Rebel woman

Of course you want the girl that owes you $20.

Her hair flows freely, you almost envy the autonomy. The fact that her libertarian lifestyle doesn't seem all-that-bad, attracts the essence of your conscious mind. Words like "fuck the government!" and "the only change we need is anarchy," sound like music to your ears. The conformist girls seem so boring. Their average work hours, collection of Sex and the City seasons, and their modest pop culture collection. You think, "if this were the sea, then the girls I don't like are the ones swimming in schools, I want the exotic coral fish." Of course! The woman who outthinks you! Paints, writes, sings, dances... the occasional pot smoker, the unique cooker. The one who pays her bills, but late. "It's her soul!" You claim. Her dream catchers seem like eye catchers and her homemade jewelry gleams brighter than Kay's. You think about her for days. Then you get her, and realize her mind is just like yours. Which becomes a brain sore. The conflicting artistic minds do not complement each other, they contradict. "Baby, you got twenty dollars?" Of course! "That can buy like a canvas, some paint and brushes right?" "Yeah, I need this for this bag of weed, then I'll need more money to get the paint." Well, isn't that quaint? Your liberal, contradicting, free spirited girl... drains from your spirit. How come you don't feel so free? Literal and liberal seem to fight in this plight for your ideal woman. 

Someone had to challenge my other blog didn't they!?

Wait, wait, wait, waaiii, waiiiit waiiiitt a minute. Usually, I do not concern myself with celebrity gossip and or information about the lives of just another person. Yet, I could not ignore the small caption that linked to Ashlee Simpson-Wentz and Pete Wentz's newborn baby. I believe she gave birth a few days ago, but the importance of that is not relevant, especially if you want to talk about her rankings in the celeb-world. Anyways, I peeked at the article (Thanks hotmail!) and I discovered the name to this child ready?...

Bronx        Mowgli

Oh okay, waiit, waiiit waaaaiiiiitt. Wasn't Mowgli from the Jungle Book!? I loved that character, but why would someone think it is fun and/or cool to name their child anything they so please. I mean I know its their own child but if their name is Pete and Ashlee, a simple James, Michelle, or John could have sufficed. Only because they have status it is okay to name your child Zolten, Bronx, Pluto, Esophagus? 

"Peaches Geldof, daughter of Irish singer and Live Aid creator Bob Geldof, has sisters Fifi Trixibelle and Pixie. In 2006, she told Australia’s The Advertiser in 2006: “I hate ridiculous names. My weird name has haunted me all my life.”

-A.M. Lewin Today Show Contributor

SUCKS huh? HAH

I know you're like HOLD UP, didn't you just write an article on names?! Yes well I sure did. And I won't discount the fact that MAYBE this child has a chance at stardom. Just like her mommy, she can grow up and foreshadow her mother, just as her mother did to her older sister. There has to be a barrier between unique and inane. Yet who knows? Bronx may become the next hit drummer, or lead singer of to a band of misfits. Or he just may be teased and laughed at... that's IF kids still watch the Jungle Book anymore.

Flag on the play

In a relationship, not a relation, an interested person must be keen in their observation for a partner. There are certain aspects that denote the exactness of a person, and if you are able to discern them then you will find a better suitor for a relationship... not a relation. Unfortunately there is not a constructed list of "10 ways to know he/she isn't right for you" or "5 Factors that you must say no" because everyone is different. So a huge sports head may be sexy to one and a turn off to another. Plus, I'm not discussing those behaviors, I'm more into the "red flags" for some people.

- If someone mention's their ex's more often than they mention you, then there should be a flag thrown. 

- If you're interested suitor has cheated on everyone they've been with, and they revealed that to you

- If the person is a large scale party-goer, uncontrollable with alcohol, does not remember some nights or knows everyone at the club/bar

- Heavy drug user, that's self explanatory

- Unstable with finances, 

Not saying they need to make six figures, but if they can't control their money...bad news

- Untrustworthy

- If they fulfill an initial instinct of doubt, then go off you're intuition 

- Emotionally distressed

Too back and forth with what they want

- Lack of self confidence, (physically and mentally)

You don't need to constantly "coach" your love interest and tell them how pretty they are in order for them to show it, they should burst with it. I can tell just from posture and walking.

- If they need "work"

Unless you love building people, or "saving" individuals (I say volunteer then) why do you need to put in hours to shape someone up. They won't be the same person you first met.

Those are just a few off the top of my head, there are several more. 

They

They say you can't please everybody

They say a lot of things, 

they never know what to bring, or what to do

they just know what's best for you

they don't compromise

they don't decide, they don't see tears,

they don't hear cries, they just suggest then close their eyes

they give out smiles, frayed from sleeves

they do not listen, they do not read

they love to heat your mind, they are cold, they are sublime

they walk, they talk, do they understand?

they slide right by you, they let go of your hand

they preach sacrifice, they don't let go

they know all, but they don't know

they are them

        they are me

               we are they

Name Game

What's in a name. Well a lot. Names title cars, address people and can be a one word description to a personality. You know how people say, "you look like a troy," or "You don't come off as an Allison." So, although you may think your just Mike or James, you could be a plain Jane and look as such. Isn't it amazing how people who have unique and characteristic names are just as unique and charismatic. Lebron, Tiki, Venus, Shaq, to name a few... I know if I saw someone with a "unique" name I'd ask what do you do, because Shaq's don't work at the department of transportation. Not saying that stars and athletes all have to have unique names, but the one's that do... it was almost as if their parents bred them to greatness. 

"Good people actually happen to bad things"

Ignorance is bliss, not naiveness. - Th3rd

       Some people.

some people.

I can understand not knowing, but being open to see. I can understand not understanding, but taking every thing as it comes. A thing that seems to be intolerable is the fact that someone's ill-aware attitude can allow for some ignorance to be permitted in their life. Some people can be so blind to truth that they believe in whatever is given to them, and they can live on their cloud world. But the fact of the matter is life is not in black or white. You can't just want something and it appears, if doesn't go your way you stomp around like a child. Or better yet, move instantly to the first interested buyer... searching for what you want and earning it is different than a tunneled vision where you make something what you want out of something that is hardly close in resemblance. Naive to the fact that it doesn't work like that, and ignoring the truth. Well I didn't know where else I would take this blog because I wanted to write something from that quote...and that one is mine baby! 

"whatcha talkin' bout..."

I love it when people think 

   I am writing about them.

In poetry or prose, in blog or "away message." The reactions I receive are somewhat amusing, more often than annoying. Sometimes it becomes a Q&A, other times I just laugh. Ha ha ha

Writing about you? Hah Don't you think I have better things to do? Lately, maybe not, but the last thing orbiting around the circumference of my brain is not the first thing you said to me. Most of my thoughts stem from things I see, read, and hear about... not direct conversations with people. 

"Life is a gift everyday, that's why it's called present!"

I'm going through withdrawal. You know? The feeling you get when your favorite shoes become less and less favorable. Or when waking up in the morning is not so exciting. Maybe you don't know, maybe you don't care. My writing has suffered and therefore lost it's zing. Even getting turned on is so subtle and melancholy. Yes I've heard it, "I got a lot on my mind," but maybe not enough, because I don't want to write about anything. Please do not take this as an emo piece or side of depression, I feel great. But I am feeling social withdrawal, I need to see something, feel something, do something, BE something. Girls have always brought complications, now I just feel frustrations. Finding work has never been so difficult. The list will not go on! I will stop. But if you don't see me in the grocery store, or at the bar getting a drink... I'm just working on a plan to escape.

Mixtape for Obama

Want to know what is more encouraging to me than voiced words? These selected titles, and seriously check them out. I wrote my last cover letter and resume while they were playing in the background and I felt so empowered, so rejuvenated, and so confident. Crazy eh? Maybe, or maybe it is a boost I need, I mean shit, I'm a starving, struggling artist ever little tid-bit helps. In fact I think I will put them on repeat, therefore, I can get a great deal of writing accomplished today. The title I have been listening to is "He's Back" by Danny Elfman and "the Spiderman Theme Song" by Danny Elfman and "Arrival to Earth" by Steve Jablonsky. Created and constructed to near perfection, although they are depicting a moment in a movie, they exude strength, valor, honor, pride and that urge to keep going on. Well, that's exactly what some of us need. I wish I could make a playlist for Obama, that way when doubt and uncertainty cross his path, he can close his eyes and listen to the tracks to make him feel strong again. There will be moments when he will question himself, and the matters of the country. My music would tame the negativity; just as they have tamed the doubts that keep trying to resurface in my life.

Functioning friends forever forgotten for fondness

The disappearing acts. 

A reappearing fact, rather my nonchalant observation about how people seem to withdrawal into their shell when they confide their heart to another. I understand certain people need to be "removed" from one's life to acknowledge the structure of the relationship. Some cope pretty well, rejecting to descend to their cave made for two. As much as one on one is oh-so-great; dissolving to a wraith kind of transitions into a detriment to the wonderful friendships that used to flourish. So how do you make it work? Is your boyfriend/girlfriend overbearing, self-conscious, insecure, distrusting or just plain clingy? How can you manage to be friends with people who were there before him/her and have success with that person. Some say, "if you relationship means that much to you then sacrifices will have to be made." Bullocks!! Seriously, my friends round me into the the person I am, and I couldn't imagine sustaining life with their absence. Sounds pretty deep huh? Well, I would do a considerable amount of things for my friends, as I would expect them to do for me. So where am I getting at? Lose your friends for love, love your friends and lose love? Have the best of both huh? Just a conscious observation, love your friends!

Dashing thru the snow, in a ...

Is is too early for Christmas music yet? Maybe for the radio, (because they play the Temptations twenty seven times a day) but playing some on your own computer or mix cd never gets old. I mean I can not think about a time I was not cheerful when I listened to Stevie, The Jackson 5, or any other seasonal holiday tune. As I am writing this I have been listening to a lovely Christmas song playlist (I know you'd want it, unless however you are Muslim or Jewish....which there is no problem.) I think out of the 365 days in the year... thirty of them shouldn't be restricted to Christmas music, I think twice per month and then the holiday season would be great. Wouldn't it be a wonder if there was more Christmas music played and crime went down 4%!!! Occupational satisfaction increased and the divorce rate lessened, it would be amazing. But for now, I will just have to wait until after turkey day. 

Wanna buy art!? hell no!

NO

   No thank you

       No soliciting

     Not interested

   Hell No

Not here

      Not allowed

            Get the fuck outta the building!

So, I have heard almost every version for a simple "no." After hearing it so often, I've become numb to the sound of the two letter word. Sometimes smiles are involved, other's just shake their head, but every-so-often there is that grumpy face that almost sears into your optimism. "Your next big sale is around the corner." My asss! Law of averages my ass... one of every ten. How about 0 for every 75, so maybe I am giving up on myself, maybe I am missing out on an opportunity to make some serious cash, but you know what?! I don't care. Everyone is not a sales person and I have a little morality in the issue, often I have my lil' conscience guy come up and say "they don't need this!" That's true, I am not selling something that is hot or in demand, its beautiful, but not everyone loves aren't, nor does everyone love poetry, pitching to everyone is not giving me strikes... I'm walking the whollllllle team. I'm sure I can weasel my way to success eventually, but I'm not an eventual guy, I want results. And the fact of the matter is I have none, for all the driving and time that I have been spending. So sucks to you if I give up...the only reason why you want to con me back into a position is because money is made off of me!!  anyways thats enough!

sixty

60 posts...awesome.

anyways this will be short, sweet and unadulterated. I am so tired. 11:20 and I am exhausted people. Staying on your feet and working a hustle is NOT easy...its fun, its relieving its discouraging its hard... its work guys. The appreciation comes toward the end of the day when smiles that were cries and the money is supplied. Anyway, enjoy the 60th. and I will enjoy 7 hours of rest.

A few words to share

Don't know what to write (trees)Don't know what to write (love)Don't know what to write (music)Don't know what to write (people)Don't know what to write (boredom)Don't know what to write (movie quotes)Don't know what to write (sex)Don't know what to write (sex)Don't know what to write (alone)Don't know what to write (free)Don't know what to write (ridicule)Don't know what to write (ominous)Don't know what to write (elation)Don't know what to write (nerves)Don't know what to write (confusion)Don't know what to write (misunderstood)Don't know what to write (nothing)

Having fun... untitled (My imaginary conversation)

I love your writing

"Oh do you now? What other things you like you wanna tell me about?"

I like to dance

    I love to paint

Singing in the shower makes me feel great

I hate to be late, and underdressed 

fancy things?    I'm least impressed

You have to display some sort of intellect

then the rest of your style I'll begin to inspect

So, what's it to you? You telling me you want me boy?

"All I'm saying..."

Well, I'm saying your words bring me joy

who knows what emotions you like to toy with

But besides your words, you've got a nice smile

compliments your style, probably drives the girls wild

I'm not looking for a ladies man, 

just a friend to kick back, lose track of time

watch a movie with, throw down a rhyme

roll up a dime, or even find myself in his eyes

you would be surprised when you see the amount of guys

full of nothing

I get easily excited, and quickly disappointed

Starwars makes me happy, the Rebels I would have joined them

Harry Potter was a punk, Frodo would have destroyed him

"You've got an interesting mind."

Well maybe you can  find what's deep in my heart

interactions aren't chemistry baby, it's living physical art

give me a call when you get a chance

make it soon, before I'm over your word romance

Excerpt from "Love, Sex & Hate"

David was aware that whatever activity the two of them experienced it was to filled with spontaneity, laughs and women.

        “You know what? I was goin’ to chill with this new girl that’s taken to me, but shit, I’ll clear plans,” said Mike excitedly.

        “You sure about that? I’m not interested in breaking up your evening, especially if its with someone new, we’ll hang out next week,” David said.

       “Nah man, its not that important, let’s go to the club.”

       “The club?” David asked uninterested.

       “I know you ain’t into the club scene, I’m talking about the strip club man,” said Mike.     

       “I kind of had a feeling that’s what you meant, what do you have there, you know any of the dancers or you just want to go?” Asked David.    

       “I don’t know any of them, but I heard they do crazy things, trying to see what all the talk is about.”

       “That’s cool. I will probably pass Mike, hang out with your lady friend,” said David.

       “Alright man, everything cool? You sound a bit out of it.”

“I’m fine, I was a little sick, but I feel better now. Hey, I will talk to you later, okay?”     Said David.

 “Cool, just hit me up,” Mike said. 

David hung up the phone. He thought about calling Curtis next, but then word would get back to Eryka that they hung out. He was also reluctant because they would probably do the usual: sip beers, watch television, and talk about the women that they are seeing.

Work ended on a bright note, David announced a salary increase for one of his clients, meaning he too would have an increase in his bonus. David took it upon himself to head to an upscale bar after work and accommodate himself for a few drinks during happy hour. As expected the place was abounding with business professionals and a few money- chasing women. It was until David enjoyed his second drink when a woman approached him.

            “Hello, I’m Jaime”

  “Hey, Jaime, I’m Marcus,” David said.

David presented this alias when he sensed a woman was a prostitute, or starving for a bank roller.

        “Nice to meet you Marcus, how are you?” Jaime asked. 

        “I’m well, so what’s your story?”

        “My story?” Jaime asked puzzled.

 

Thanks AP

"the best way to love someone, it's to send them free" -Annie

That was a line mentioned in a conversation between my friend AP and I. Instead of elaborating the conversation or dissecting the exact meaning, I will leave it open for interpretation. I could give my own thoughts on the matter, but I don't want to steer anyone's mind... just read it. Read it again.

These are my four favorite words

I love your writing

Obviously Beginning A Monumental Action (for the US)

And as the conclusion of my last blog leads you directly into the subject of this one. You may have anticipated this, but the announcement has been made of our next United States President. Only things that have given me butterflies are exotic cars, certain women, and Barack Obama. There is a light that exudes from his soul, one that I have only seen in past documentation of vital figures. A genuine and honest principle surrounds this great man and I am really glad to be a part of the beginning of his legacy. The excitement I felt after casting my vote and seeing how many young people so desperately want change was revitalizing. There is more to that word "change" than just revamping the economy, or improvement on healthcare. This is a change in pace for America, a change in race for America, a race for a change. The word play can mean the same in many different forms. Regardless how you face change has occurred, minute or massive, I look forward in telling my children that they can be president if they so choose to be. This beginning, this start...this march, which is celebrated internationally will set the stage for... 

You fill the blank.

Glad to once say I'm an American ...for now I won't say American't

Let's take a ride

Nothing was more refreshing than the extent of my early afternoon. Discussing the matters of events preceding the subject will be in another blog. Plainly stated, yesterday was the beginning to wonderful, (I told you November was going to be a great month, unlike its predecessor). I took my pearly lex on a decent road trip in order to investigate an employment opportunity. Although the interview went well, choosing the job would not have been of sound judgement. My father tagged along for the trip and while we journeyed to and from home, the sights were nothing less than amazing. A background of red and orange plastered on a grey canvas, as that set the stage for an enjoyable ride I cycled through music varying from Madeleine Peyroux, MGMT, and Nas. The last of my feature, Nas, was quite an amazing experience, I watched my father (who is seriously old-school) bob his head to the beat, and comment on how deep his lyrics are. Never have my father and I sat in any setting and revel in the rhythm of hip-hop. He sang along to some of the song's choruses and this moment was amazingly touching. What led to a perfect finish to our trip was the fact that "Black President" played right at the conclusion. "Yes we can, change the world (change the world!)... And though it seems heaven sent, we ain't ready to see a Black president." As we sang along I felt warmth and empowerment through Nas's visionary song. As many of you may, the end of the song ended with "It is my distinct honor  and privilege to introduce the next President of the United States: Barack Obama."

Malcontent because of...

I can't write for shit. Maybe it is the slump that I feel stuck in. Poetic juices...dry

Creative juices... gone. Once again me and words have become enemies. It is funny how one person, or situation can effect every aspect of your daily routine. Today I'm thrown. I wish I had a poem for this because it would truly take you somewhere, but I can't get on-board now. I need to repair before I can play again.

Oh great

People consistently tell me I have skills, abilities, talents... yes some...my ex says I'm very creative, a lil. I may dabble in a number of things...the thing is...I'm not GREAT at anything I haven't committed to automotive, because I'm not THAT GREAT, I haven't committed to Law School because I'm not THAT SMART, I don't have the baddest girl on the block...well that's because it's her fault, but being good at things are nice, but having something to be great at is something I desire. I'm a decent poet, and okay writer...I want to be great. 

11:45pm

"Never separate the capacity for other people to let you down."

Rash thoughts

I don't know about you, but I HATE pressure, I like to mildly ease my way into a situation. Heat on the issue just heats me up, I feel I get irrational. God forbid I was in the control tower during 9/11, shoot miniscule issues such as relationship pressure gets in my psyche. I also hate too many decisions... the key to indecisiveness... having too much to choose! Pretty simple eh? A or B...not 1A 1B 1c 2A 2B 2C... I get annoyed by too much choice. Sorry for all the ellipses, but imagine if we had nine candidates, that were all popular, running for president. The states would go mad. Anyways, since I'm mad, thats all, 

back to being irrational again.

Talking white noise

"no woman says unique things out her mouth anymore."

Its the same common shit, especially for my predicament. No one appears special, or carries that "magical" essence that captivates your attention. Traditionally, yes, I have seen some beautiful women, some gorgeous exotic combinations, but opening their mouth ruins their aura. The field becomes limited when you extinguish the smokers and drinkers... the party people. Then few indulge themselves in open matters, and art oriented events. Then what? Maybe there is so much going on that my satisfaction is ultimately a high standard, and in order to be blown away... well and alignment of the stars should occur. I haven't really thought all this through

The Link

Being able to accomplish a bridge between these two is more difficult than it seems. I mean when you think of it, sex & intimacy should go hand in hand. Things like the sun and being warm, or smiling and being happy. Well, I was finally able to connect the two, sex and intimacy, and that link brings more difficulties than benefits. I mean, as moral as it sounds, can you imagine the evenings shared with someone and sex was committed. A piece of my heart becomes invested in that person, and thats damaging. When woman mention things like I couldn't stand him, but the sex was great. It's a paradox for me because, I could not detach my emotions from those particular emotions and for most, it's easy to do that.

Chose your means

Thats right, if you had the clear cut option, where decision one and two lie right before you... which miserable desire would you love suffer? The choice where you get to embrace and enjoy a monogamous relationship, one in which you love that person whole heartedly. She reciprocates that love and you two have a union in which only death could separate. Unfortunately, you make love just as often as the lunar eclipse. That random spectacular evening becomes the talk of the bedroom for the next week, yet the two remain to avoid the simple sanction that brought that magic.

The other choice is become somewhat like Hugh himself. Delight and appreciate the female specimen for what it is. I mean, we were put on this earth outnumbered, yet we still posses these traits that want want want. If there was intention to have one and only one, maybe we would have outnumbered women and a significant choice would have been taken seriously. It's not that way though, so yeah, enjoy your cake, eat it too and have some of someone else's. Then we're sick, stuck ejaculating and feeling empty. The coldness overwhelms you at night with a bedroom full of pussy. So the real dilemma is... pick your demise. 

Words to occur

ALMOST could not think of anything to write. I feel as if I am becoming a slave to express myself daily to readers that are for the most part, anonymous. Yet, I continue to progress word by word to reflect upon you my solitary thoughts. I almost took it there,  you know the Obama threats, but I already called that out a couple blogs ago. No need to revisit the tale of revolution that is overdue to occur.

Then I thought I'd cast thoughts out about halloween, but it hasn't occurred yet. I'm sure a discussion will render itself visible upon the experiences this weekend. 

So, what is the subject? Well, the subject is words. I sat here for twenty or so minutes and tried to think of a poem, or something to even write about on the bloody blog. Nothing. I listened to music, folded clothes and then said fuck it. I can't think of shit. All of a sudden I thought of a piece and rhymed it with every word I could think of that rhymed with boring, since that was my mood at the time. Well I was happy to finally write again, (sigh of relief) and I'm on here too... 

It didn't even take wine or liquor... now thats progress.

What dreams

Ever return back to reality so exceptionally pleasant you did not know what to do with yourself? A dream or vision that appeals to truth or factual existence really can touch your soul. Often we have this dream and dread waking; hate the fact that our conscious life is no where close to what we have visioned or fantasized. 

Last night I have a spectacle of a dream. One that was the dream of all dreams... don't ask because I won't tell. All I know was I was smiling, and living in a realm where space and time possessed an agreement to subside. Lately, my dreams have caused me to be restless, but today, was different. Not different where colors and rainbows... nor i was the potentate of pussy. I touched areas I almost have forgotten and the movie playback it possessed was enlightening and refreshing. Ever wake up smiling?

Five kinds of poems that aren't SUPER LAME

((This was a subject of another blog on my hubpages, I wanted to share this on here too))

Poetry is a subject that isn't favored by many. Often people LOVE to read, but that does not mean they'd love to read a piece of poetry. Not so much that they don't like it rhymed or unrhymed, metaphors or iambic pentameter. Sometimes it just goes over their heads and they don't have the patience to truly soak in what they read.

That's one a lot of people choose to not indulge. Another reason is the cliche that all poetry is love or soft. Not true. The latest book that was co-authored by me touches 1 maybe 2 love subjected pieces. The types of poetry that are interesting and are opposite on the super lame spectrum (super lame, what a phrase.) Pieces that talk about nothing but say a lot, you know...the REALLY over your head pieces. They stimulate your mind and cause you to read them again, and even look up certain words...don't you enjoy a challenge?

A piece that has internal rhyme. Poetry bores me when every piece i read in someones saved library is the same format. AB AB AB AB or AA BB AA BB, mix it up...have fun, make your work colorful not patterned.

A revolutionary poem is always great. One that praises change and triumph. We have been silent on the revolutionary sense; therefore, a piece calling for a difference, pointing out societies flaws is good.

Everyone loves a misleading poem. A poem in which you describe the hell out of a situation, personifying something in your life or in life, and then at the end it refers to something else. People always respond well to those types of pieces just don't overload them to an audience.

The last is a general one, you can't go wrong writing about "Love, Sex & Hate" that is also the title of my upcoming book. Unfortunately, that is all society is truly concerned with, the drama's of those three subjects, anything else and you're a minority in the preference.

It's just that type of day.

Yeah, it's just one of those days. You know, three quarter full glass of red wine, desk lamps, mellow music, or a non-climatic movie. The ease yourself into sleep type of day, where activity subsides and motivations become null and void. 

Paint your bathroom type of day or reorganize the album collection. Relax on the couch type of day, but sleep does not overwhelm you, instead half open eyes aimlessly gaze at movies never released dating back six or seven years. The rainfall massages your mind, a putty becomes of it, neither caring or bearing to endure anymore stress. This is the type of day where plans made earlier become forgotten, uninspiring or lacking interest. You witness gray in the sky and a moist pavement, it is then you understand that not only do you see gray, you begin to feel gray. Whatever shade is up to you, but nonetheless dark or light your gray is the summation of your day. 

I saw SAW five

Saw V was not that good.

Words for the day.

EMOtional Hangover

"You promised we’d always be friends… yeah well I lied,"

A great statement concerning the situation between two individuals. One person seeing the solution to his trouble by total deletion, erase the memory of her from his life. With the hopes that a simple song, word, smell or movie can not remind him of the total agony of not having her. And what does she want? To know friends is what they'll be, that vibe, that interaction where the former elation and relation is denoted. The possibility of friends seems ever so distant, where phone calls, text, and emails all evolve to obsolete. Smiling photos become burning pins through the bottom right of his heart.

I don’t need you as my friend, as my friend I can’t kiss you, as your friend I cant touch you, like this… as your friend I am nothing. And if I shall have you, I relinquish every ounce of effort I took to diminish you from my spirit. Touching the tip of an iceberg for the time and quality of time I’d like to spend with you…

Man, I hate the phrase just as much as I hate using it, because ultimately it is a lie. I don’t want to hear about your days, your job, your love interest, your enjoyed time without me. I want no part, until I have had the time to extinguish the fire that burned inside of my soul. I’d rather sit alone coping with a violin in the dimly lit cool October night. Serenading melancholy thoughts to dissipate in the air, or to be burned from the moons glow. Regardless it’s not easy to cope.

Why falling in love with a poet is a bad idea.

Okay, well here are my reasons for being in love with a poet is not so bright. And you can not use these against me, because like Common said, "I got my side card baby I'm a (mechanic)." He chose to say actor, I haven't made it there yet, that's in progress. 

So, why not? It would be romantic, wouldn't it? Well yea, but unless the artist is able to detach oneself from their work, and often we're not. Then you're setting yourself up for pain. I mean think about it, We, us poets, use words to convey, display, paint, narrate, describe moods, setting, emotions and observations. A talented artist is able to construct ones work from the tiniest prick of motivation, turning a smile into "she loves me," and a gesture into, "I want the world to end." Words are our best friend, and words are our own enemy. So, a poet can tell you everything in the world, things you only find in...oh yeah POEMS. 

So, its a deadly game to become involved within, especially the hopeless romantic ones, (I've evolved). What can only be worse than falling for a poet, is a poet falling for a poet. Then you've created word war III. Misinterpreted emotions, confused feelings, words with words to give you... words and less emotion.  I've had a few people in my life refusing to become emotionally invested because words are my allies... failing to realize they are my foes as well. 

Our decision approaches

The countdown begins.

Only a couple of weeks until election commences and boy do we have history in the making.  My mother told me that she is fearful for Obama and his family. I can understand that comment, watching the old Spike Lee flick Malcolm X, the threats on his life were the slippery slope to his demise. It was almost as if he sacrificed himself in the end. But, I'm not discussing the history of Malcolm X, more like the story of Obama.

On the radio, Michael Baisden played sound clips from "the American people" and their response to Obama. Some saying and insisting, "HE's An ARAB! He is an A-RAB" you know how the Southerners speak. Well, I don't think we can tell them fifty times that he is not, because they won't listen. Clear example of how backward society can only look in one direction.

Another said, "If we let this Neggres (neeh- grehs) in the White House, the country is going to fall." Wow, someone who used that terminology knows what's right and wrong for our country? I don't want to think negative in any way, but we can't endure an assassination, I think if we did have to face it riots and revolution is bound to follow suit. So many issues will come to light and people may fight again...fight for rights. Maybe music will be empowering versus demoralizing. Sides will be formed and justice is used in people's vocabulary once again.

As much as I want that... I don't want a life to become the symbol for it. I hope the outcome of the election does not rub anyone that wrong.

Die for a just cause, or die just cause

-i think i will put that in a poem-

Sitting around, in between tasks

Who knew?

Never have I been placed in a more discouraging demeanor than I am now. My present despondency derives from the drought of employment juices that flow through my veins. I loathe remaining indoors, I despise being unproductive, and yes writing and searching for jobs is one aspect I stimulate my spirit with. At the same time, this pattern of looking for employment is a occupation within itself. I almost drive myself mad concerned with what will contain the key to my successful future. Finally, I have fast-forwarded past the usual "I wish I were young" phrase, because dwelling on that is pointless. 

I know I know...in due time... be patient, remain with your eyes open, pray. Don't people tell me the same shit about finding someone? Well, patience may be a virtue, but it's also an annoyance. Sick of complacency and I'm tired of trying to decide my future, I wish it would thrust its ugly face in my presence and tell my broken soul to hop on the horse and ride down the fiery path of destiny. As emo and dark that sounds, fuck off... you have left me alone with my dog and my thoughts, what else am I to do? waste away at self reflection, I'm tired of thinking about myself...and I'm tired of writing about it.

Dexter Quote

"How do I show somebody real love when I never experienced it myself?"

soliloquy

The more she says she likes me the more I despise myself. As this customary notion of pleasant feelings usually becomes followed up by a staggering episode of tears and scorn. Yes, I adore the moments I can claim peace, but seeing as though I’m undeserving of such treatment, I ponder when the bridge will come crumbling down... due to my own fallacies of course. 

I’ve led a lot of my young life one fuck up to the next. Allowing some time to casually forgive myself and loathe others, yet as derailed as my soul ends up, I still find myself compelled to inquire about bad habits. Almost as if testing my patience and resistance is not enough already, I open doors I have closed shut.

Well, a bad habit in itself was returning home. The absence of forward progress has diluted my mind.

 

 **don't associate yourself with this**

Bet you didn't know this!!!

I really did not want to step in the political realm, but I wanted to mention one thing. This one thing will be brief, and pretty obvious.

So many American('t)s  are torn between this selfish pride issue and what is right. I say this because if (yes I'm about to do it) Obama was in fact White, 100% White, then he would have this by a landslide (yeah i played the race card). So much of the swayed voting has to do with "oh he is an Arab," or "he's a posing terrorist" or just he plain fact that he is Black. Well, what people haven't realized (a lot of people I guess) HE IS MIXED, mixed with WHITE. But he is all Black because he's got Black in him, and his policies and ideals do not matter because of the color of his skin. Which is terrible, but it is clear once again that our society has not moved that far...ont he racial spectrum, we're just inching. Technology, evolution of motor vehicles and advancements occur every day, but race is still decades behind. sucks.

love...again pt 3

Is it possible to fall in love with someone in three days. One weekend? 

seventy-two hours.

And with this being accomplished I set this scenario in a household where you would be around that someone for the full amount of time. Therefore, you have the opportunity to check mannerisms, get to know their lifestyles, arrangements and even inquire into one's past.

Is that enough time to fall in love with someone. This sounds movieish...well thats 'cause it is from a few movies. Movies are movies...stories, fantasies and dreams. They mindfuck our psyche and perception of how things truly can be. So instead of some people (me) being the young kid who wants to shoot up people or slice one hundred bodies apart like in Kill Bill... I want to love someone from first sight. hmm

Well, I have quickly been shown the reality of the fact and I hardly see the feasibility in a seventy-two hour heart warmth. Maybe it is past infatuation, and tips the very arrow that pierces, called love. I would love to love someone in that manner and fashion, it is very dream like... then again...

Love ...again pt 2

The second part

Love isn't enough. I finished enjoying my favorite show displaying this very aspect. How the love and sexual affection between two people were not strength enough to fundamentally last as a couple, let alone a marriage.

A lot of things "just aint enough." Being involved in a non-sexual yet interactive relationship may get some people through, others (like me) not so much. There has to be a balance of chemistry, a synchronization of sex, intelligent interaction, exploration, new experience, fun and pain. I think that will at least jump start what love can offer. Otherwise, you become involved in this optical illusion, wher you create positives and ignore flaws...fuck that.

okay, enough conjuring of this dark spirit.

Love ...again pt 1

Welcome guys.

So lately I have been loading you up with poetic thoughts and collaborative pieces featuring friends and fellow poets. I told you that was going to happen; but now that you want to hear some substantive impressions I thought I'd grace the notion about love.

No, not the I'm in love or how love is so sweet, or I love my car (white girl), more so the inductive reasoning about the "invisible laws" of love. What bounds our hearts, what logically taints our minds about what it controls? Seriously, isn't love the most unstable, unpredictable element we will encounter on this planet? Love is the only feeling (or skill) that summons other feelings, love creates hate, love creates pain, sorrow, happiness, joy, depression, and jealousy. Shoot, some told me I just love love, now ain't that a bitch. Love something as consequential and dubious as her's truly.

Love destroys. Love neglects reason and authority. Love causes misunderstandings.
That's what it's supposed to do.
Love is to spin the mind so that straight is... well, still straight, until you get off the merry-go-round and realize you've traveled in the wrong direction. But as long as you ride that rusty, squeaky, steel death machine, any direction is the right direction. So, I guess if you fall in love (hah, fall in love, but don't fall off!) and never get off, the partner you share that ride with will always go where ever you course to. It's when the ride is over that fucks any sense of direction and rationality.

But who am I to say, or judge? I have never truly loved. That's why I'm scared shitless of it. I have been in loving situations, but never a mutual love feeling, always me loving wayy more...or tons less...but have I ever been on the same page? Once.

Maybe my love outlook is somewhat justified, experience in so much of the negative results gives a different aspect. Maybe, or maybe I'm just so fucked...

We Make The World Go Round - Collaborative feat Derrick McFadden, DeWayne Alston and Sisandra Eleonora

 {Th3rd}

It starts with a sentence.

 

And since then I have been senseless,

I send less vibes through words unspoken

I emphasize it all in the words I have chosen

Being open with myself,

Realizing its closer to conscious wealth

And you can’t help but to overhear and to understand

And it’s not so clear, therefore you make demands.

My initiation was simple conversation and elementary verbalization

Now I’ve united with people, overlooking separation and combining to a poetic nation

prescribing direction through poetic inflection

Our words keep souls aligned,

    we’ve sewed the line,

 and so,

     defined what it is within ourselves

we make the world go ‘round

Our phonetics…our pure poetic sound

   Collaborate in masses to reach massive attention,

  the world must see what we’ve written

Hafta feel what we’ve been given

Feed off our meanings to keep us livin’

 

{Derrick}

Round and round we make the world go round

Painting pictures with words…we astound

 

Using our insomnia inflicted pens

Scribbling and scratching

Trying to make words blend

 

Searching for that perfect mixture

We pull from the depths of our minds

Painting portraits in the form of words

While keeping the rhythm within the rhyme

 

Pouring our hearts into each and every poem

Giving them metaphoric wings

So they can fly across pages and screens

Being the opposite of what is consider the norm

 

We capture hearts and squeeze out tears

We capture minds every single day of the year

 

We pen within the world’s ups and the downs

We be poets…we make the world go round

 

{Dewayne}

I live in a world of beauty neither seen nor heard

I try to capture the essence with every single word

I'm sensitive enough to sense this

And yet I too am left senseless

Overwhelmed by the power of what is spoken

And these lines I write are really just a token

Of my infatuation with the pad and the pen

So it makes sense that I write when

I'm down and feeling blue

Or weighted down by the things I do

I too realize that it is truly a conscious wealth

The realization of my unconscious self

So I've united with my partners in rhyme

Because this very moment defines the time

When many voices unite into one

With the power to move the sun

And push the earth off it's axis

What I really want to ask is...

Do we use this power to do what's right?

Do we use our voices to turn on the light?

 

{Sisandra}

From empires to continents

Suburbs, states, islands

In cafes, contest and online

We make the world spin, get ready

To hear the poet’s prophetic liquids

The conscience similes of colored embraces

A mental momentum proclaimed

Hail the glory,

The myth between extensions and fulfillment of a dream

The correlations amongst contractions,

While conceptual enrich the power of those addicted to

Verbal constipations

The installment of human races

The heritages of phantoms

That’s what a lot think

We penetrate vocally

Hail the King & Queens of the corrals

The provider”“ the giver of the gift”

He reign above quarrels

Ego’s are intoxication and kill the blessing of the ink,

but never a winner , the master said we will overcome

When our minds are united, we don’t need a mass

But one or two is enough to gain access

to x-files of this world indignations,

we help carry this world

To a new hope

Do you know any soul who is in need of a second chance

Grant it with an uplifting poem

Remember the world isn’t only yours, its from us all

It’s our temporary home

Alive by our words

living in our cores

When we inscribe verbs and nouns

When we assert precision

Causing cerebrum to burn

We make the world go around

We make your mind spin

Witness the richness of our skills

Its not a game

It’s a profession that lies in our

Optical gaze

Who are we

Poets… masters of the pen.