Dixi..."I have spoken"

Lyrical injections
collapse veins and attack my cerebral cortex
Biting through tissue, corrupting the soul,
polluting the mind.
Slowly taking control.

Control taken slowly is torturous,
freedom songs travel treacherous pathways
to help me
breath deep like these is last days.
Endorphins escape from self imposed solitude,
and make a break for it.

I am stranded.
Hanging by thinly intertwined strings
interwoven thoughts, and ideas, and experiences
cultivated by hand, inspired by gods.

I lie.
I lie still.
I still lie.
I still lie in wait for help to come.

...five... six...
seven.
seven steps away from being with love.
it sounds simple, right?
like walking parallel to the DeeJay booth,
lifting left, then right foot with gravity-defying moves,
bringing the future ever closer,
is something done everyday!
well... okay it is.
the game is complexed,
but the objective is simple...
"capture the Queen."

there she was,
hips moving as though she were the beat.
playing composer to the DJ's orchestra.
the music chases her tempo,
as she plays hard to get.
the symphony slows down,
slows, as though succumbing to the exhaustive pace it was forced to maintain.
she, maestro, Queen, curtsey's
and i, like any audience, mentally
applauded her work.
she slightly, subtly,
gave my glance toward her recognition.
i, absorbed her faint smile,
as though this Queen were the sunshine,
and i, just a frostbitten Alaskan tourist,
in need of her warmth for survival.

her wordless sign of acknowledgement
inspired me to move closer.
but i had to move with a sense of purpose.

I prepared my first move.
It was a simple one, really,
the Pawns are the easiest to escape.
they are great in numbers, and
have the ability to attack, but
are merely a filter used to weed out
unqualified challengers.
Their "easiness" can seduce some,
but those who truly seek to gain the Queens
favor,
are not swayed.
Gyration, vibrations, and temptations abound,
I side-step them all, in the name of Love.

KNight approaches.
Its odd movements make it formidable,
I must not take it for granted,
for it may creep up on me,
and destroy my entire effort.
I move forward steadfastly.

All the while,
The Queen has taken up residence,
amongst opulence.
She sees all, and all see her.
As attackers attempt to mount,
she, without effort thwarts their advances.

I remain enamored,
I remain in amor,
I remain armored.

Next,
Both Rook and Bishop attempt to redirect me,
entrap me in conversation,
and the consumation of free spirits, respectively.
i decline to partake in petty discussion,
and refuse to ingest that which i am.
free.
spirit.
i guide myself as to avoid Bishops angle of attack,
and Rooks straight up and down candor, with a...
"...step, step, side to side..."

all foes have been averted,
i have come within paces of my goal,
of my gold,
my precious object of desire.

the orchestra once again attempts to
overcome their overbearing master,
unsuccessfully.
she repeatedly berates them for their insolence,
they wrap notes around her,
as though to tenderly embrace her,
and then kneel at her feet, in submission.

through strategic positioning,
i have arranged my ranks,
so as to force her in my direction.
i, unlike the DeeJay, have succeeded in my endeavor.

Queen, black, moves.
King, white, touches Queens arm,
Queen beams.
Game...
I move in closer,
in an attempt to whisper words of love,
words of peace and of war,
all which celebrate at different points on the spectrum,
a spectrum that defines what i would do,
would do to protect you.
You my Queen.
that is what i intended to say...
seven steps to Queen, black,
I had not accounted for King, black.
I lose.
Click!!!...
CheckMate.

I was recently blessed with the opportunity to shoot some shots at the album release party for Janelle Monae earlier this month. Click here if slideshow doesn't start.
peace.



Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Like it's your birthday, again. And you know I don't give a f--k cause it's my birthday, again...





Okay people i made a promise to blog atleast one more time before i enter my Thirties. So in attempting to hold myself to my responsibilities and honoring my words, here i am.



Ya' know i love to blog, as you can tell by my excessive and obsessive number of post, but lately it doesn't move me to do so. I really began blogging to share my world, so to speak. I feel i have a lot to say and that there are hundreds of others who share pieces of my world with me. if i've said it once, i've said it a thousand times, i'm a lover of conversation. some of you may already know that but some may not. All that is to say that, even though i love to write, i love to converse even more. i personally think that one day this country will have some kind of revolution, and people like myself will be more and more valued.



so if you bothered reading this, let me know. maybe, "We can burn the incense, and just chat, Relax, I got the good vibrations,....lets have a good conversation"







Peace people.





If you wanna celebrate my dirty thirty-eth with me just have a drink and relax. cause that what i'll be doing.



Peace

Click.

beep....
Hey Miss...
just checkin', thought i'd see whats up.
get at me when you got a minute. click.

beep...
What up Queen?
you ran through my head,
so i figured i would check you,
holla atcha boy when you get time. click.

beep...
Whut ta gwan star?
you stay busy,
i ain't mad at ya'.
well i thought i'd catch up with you,
see how life's treatin' you.
peace. click.

beep...
i just heard this song on the radio...
it had me reminiscing on the good ol' days,
i know you would've appreciated it.
maybe your listening anyways.
well... peace. click

beep.
did i do something to you?
i thought we were closer than that!
let me know if i did something wrong.
i hope you're in a good place.
peace Ma'. click.

beep.
click.

beep.
click.

beep.
so it's like that?
you just gonna ig' me?
like we never knew each other?!
i gotcha!
fuck you d'en!
i didn't need you anyways.
click.

"... the number you have dialed is no longer in service, please check the number a try again."
beep.
mom, i'm sorry for what i said.
i just miss you so much.
i wish i could just hear your voice again.
mom...
call me when you're ready to talk.
click.

click, i see what noOne else does...
we all are given beautifully unique gifts that some use,
but don't all exploit.
i take complete and wreckless advantage of mine, click
i treat it as though it were a girl with low self-worth,
and i have manipulated her to do my bidding,
she turns tricks for me, click
see's things my way, click
doesn't speak without being spoken too, click
she fucks me over sometimes, but i get even
i have made her make love to people before, right in front of me
she likes it though, it shows, click
she only wants to make me happy
it's impossible for her to hide her true feelings

she doesn't know how valuable she is, but i do
i have trained this girl not to think,
not to formulate her own ideas,
matter of fact...
every idea she has about life,
about love, click
about beauty, click
about creation, click
i put in to her.
ha...
damn i'm good,
click.


peace



thank you dad for my gift! love you. you'd be proud the way i abuse her.

This an edit of this post. I guess the system was unable to support my actions, so I'm just posting a link for the slideshow.

Peace

SlideShow at Flickr.com

Here are some of my more recent photos. I've been photographing with my old school Canon, but i've been trying to save up for the "super-camera". God-willin' the first part of next year i will get it. Then all my people on here about to publish those great works of literature can holla at me about their cover photos.

the Queen, doing her thing.

my neice.

oldie of my bro', possibly one of my favorite pics i've taken.

Peace.

"My restlessness is my nemesis,
It's hard to really chill and sit still..."-- Mos Def

Man as of late writing has been on the back burner for real. Although I love to write and read other people's blogs, I find myself getting distracted. I'm sure if I were 20 years younger they would diagnose me we some form of Attention Deficit Disorder. I just finished a course in Photography, so that I can more confidently delve into my love. I've also been working on the spiritual me.

Between those to things and family, my time is sparing. But I can't say I'm sad, or upset about any of it. My plan is one of divinity, so I feel the time will be there to do all things, when all things are to be done.

It's great to see that a few people still check for me in this blogosphere. I appreciate the love.
So what have ya'll been up to. Was this a great year (aside from the fact that we've lived to see most of it) for you. Are you accomplishing any of those "resolutions" that we set for yourselves months ago? Let me know. I'm a lover of conversation, so i invite any an all of it.



Peace.

Lyrical injections
collapse veins and attack my cerebral cortex
Biting through tissue, corrupting the soul,
polluting the mind.
Slowly taking control.

Control taken slowly is torturous,
freedom songs travel treacherous pathways
to help me
breath deep like these is last days.
Endorphins escape from self imposed solitude,
and make a break for it.


I am stranded.
hanging by thinly intertwined strings
interwoven thoughts, and ideas, and experiences
cultivated by hand, inspired by gods.


I lie
I lie still.
I still lie.
I still lie in wait for help to come.

Allow me to reintroduce myself...


Dang i need to write more. but i think i'm reconsumed by the spirit. not that it ever left me but it was in hibernation. so what's new? nothin' really, just chillin'. how ya'll doin? hopefully everybody is good...


....A Time Before Time....

the wounds that time doesn't heal,
the mind conceals,
using mental treachery and mental telepathy,
convincing like minds that they are like mines.
mines, sharing a field of thought,
ready to erupt when treaded upon.

it reinvents a reality that makes the body a casualty,
a soldier, killed in action, a victim a causality.
the effect of time,
the cause of time,
the beginning of the beginning.
the end of time...

...the mind drops mental bombs,
into the dreams of millions.
Allowing some of those affected to break through glass ceilings,
Allowing some of those affected to drop bombs on little children.
Allowing some of those effected to start spiritual healing.




I Used to Love H.e.r.a.





She flashed her locs.
Flashed them as though she were allowing the Sun God to massage her scalp,
all the while he placed soft kisses over her body,
leaving it bronzed.
Some areas appearing darker in tone than others, as though Ra had an affinity for thighs, breasts, the nape of the neck.
Sun's rays enlightened her mind, and warmed her heart.
Ripening her.
Bringing perfection to fruition in her,
with the blossom of a bosom that inticed many suitors,
eager to taste her nectar.

I got the inspiration for this story from Ms. Abeni. She did a great job at it, so I thought I'd pass it forward and also attempt this myself.

So all my fellow writers and exciters take up the challenge and let me know what you all create.


Resistance


A Gunshot rang. Crimson tides flowed like magma down the path of least resistance. This path had brought two souls, and one lead projectile together. The ease which the gun came into the victors hand, the tearing through the air, the fabric of the victims shirt and skin and organs, the absence of parental guidance, all walked this same path.


Peace.


Now.... every body do this... i don't wanna have to call names. Peace my pretty people.

This is a replay of my first ever blog post. I felt it was appropriate to rebroadcast it.

Peace



I seem to recall an incident involving the water, racism and people dying before. I can't remember if it was a movie, or a sit-com, or perhaps a PBS special... Hmmmm........Now I remember, it was around 1927 and Jim Crow was still around doing his "thang", you know disenfranchising the Negroes. Well, what seems to have happened was that a bunch of leaders in the Delta area(encompassing the southern Mississippi Valley), realizing that at some point in future they could potentially, which would possibly decimate the city of Greenville, MS, and a lot of the surrounding farm land. Well, these officials decided it would be necessary to take action, and immediately began construction on a series of levees that would safeguard the residence against any natural disasters. Being that this was going to be a large scale project, and very labor intensive, the powers that be felt Negroes would be best suited for the job. You know with their "laziness" and all. So they pulled together all the Negroes they could to handle the job, making them work long hours for little pay. On top of that all those opposing the hard labor practices, and considering leaving, were threatened with force... This is 1927, several years after the Emancipation Proclamation, but I digress.So we have Blacks working on the levee system, for low pay, and the threat of death. We have racism. All we need now is.... A Disaster, correct.In late 1926, early 1927, as Herbert Hoover sat in the White House, rain began to pound the Mid-West states. This was significant, because all the rain would eventually travel down to the Gulf of Mexico, via the Mississippi River. So, as this event began to take shape, residence on the Delta Valley were urged to leave the homes for higher ground. Some did, some didn't, what else is new... But some, couldn't. These people were called "Negroes." Well, what happened was, that some smart white people knowing that after the disaster was over, rebuilding would have to take place. So why let the "lazy" people go, when more than likely they wouldn't come back. So with the threat of force, and maybe killing a few of them just to show you mean it, the Negroes were told to stay.There's a lot more to the story but, there isn't a good ending. Negro = Disenfranchisement, is the moral of the story.And, sure this isn't exactly what happened in Louisiana, but it can give a lot of perspective on the mentality of both racial groups.

I decided to write a "3 seconds in the life" poem. Hopefully i can write a series of them.. who know's.

....Suicide Bomber....

Three...
No time to freeze,
only time to breathe,
i feel the stretch of my cotton tee,
as i start to... heave,
then relieve
my body of what it no longer needs.
oxygen.
it's only purpose now is to
feeds the flames,
make the bangs go boom,
seal my fate and seal their doom.
destroy some live, make the news.
the shit is bigger than religion,
i gives a fuck about the Jews.

Two...
i am the means,
i don't need to see the ends
my plans to build and destroy
some of these institutions.
so when this act
brings forth revolution,
and inspires some solution
to this population pollution,
while contributing to the eradication
of an education system that
that does little for edification,
and nothing for the black nation.

you will all witness this demolition
of our government through the extradition
of these self-preserving politians,
lining their pockets with our pensions.


One...
but, what about the innocent,
are they guilty through their ignorance?
couldn't i just reach out,
and try to grab their common sense?
then again, fuck their misdirected allegiance,
treating this government
like it deserves reverence.
while we lack relevence.
only given the ghost of freedom
for our lawful adherence, and
showing little resistance
to our powerless existence.

who else will be a soldier for the war of independence
and hold these truths as evidence...?
as i utter my last words...
"Good-bye Mr. President".



Peace

I have been away from my words for a whil now. Its not so much that i'm not inspired to write, it's more that I haven't need to.

I experience these emotion every other month or two. I guess its my equivilent to the PMS or somethin'.

I decided to post some blasts from the past. These are just a couple of reminders of how far we have come, and how far we need to go. Also reminders on how much some people wanted to see us dead.










And my personal favorite...



Did Ice Cube just say "get your girl in the mood quicker, get your jimmy(penis) thicker..."? Wow and these were on regular TV back in the day.




Peace

Shining the Light into the Darkness.

Your Power Color Is Lime Green

At Your Highest: You are adventurous, witty, and a visionary. At Your Lowest: You feel misunderstood, like you don't fit in. In Love: You have a tough exterior, but can be very dedicated. How You're Attractive: Your self-awareness and confidence lights up a room. Your Eternal Question: "What else do I need in my life?"

Out of curiousity, a lot of the folks who's blogs i visit do poetry or short stories. And with the amount of talent that ya'll write with, do any of you worry about creative theft? I would hate for your or my stuff to be jacked by some sucka to claim it as their own.

I do, do the the poor mans copyright, but from what i read it doesn't always hold up in court.

Let me know if ya'll doing anything, or if you worry about.



Peace.

Mean's to an End

I am the means,
I don't need to see the ends.
My purpose is to build and destroy
some of these institutions.
So when my thoughts
bring forth revolution,
and inspires some solution
to the population pollution;
while contributing to the eradication
of a system of education
that does little for edification
and nothing for the black nation.


Fin.

The end is "n-here."

I have packed by bags,
and said my goodbye's.

I am not leaving alone,
but I will be going alone.

The cries of my absence will not be heard,
they will not be felt,
they will not be remembered.

Peace

First off... i appreciate all those who were able to respond to my previous post discussing what you would do if you knew you had 24 hours to live. i now know who my real friends are... just jokin.

"Closer".... that's the name of this song by this very powerful singer by the name of Goapele. I only recently discovered her music, but since i found it i've been shouting her out to everyone i know. Her music is very inspiring, and i find it really soothing. In the song Closer she drops lines like:

I was playin this old mix tape i had the other day and it had this old track on it by Mase, called "24 Hours". On it the Lox, DMX, and Mase rap about what they would do with 24 hours left to live.

It made me think of what i would do with my last twenty-four hours, so i decided i'd share it with ya'll just in case it comes to fruition soon.

• I'd print out my blog(s), gather my college journal, and all my poetry, then put them in a folder for my wife and children. I figure they should know as much about who i was as possible.
• write one last blog tellin' everybody, cause i don't want folks coming here asking where i'm at, and why i ain't posted nothin' in a while. plus i'd definitely try and go meet my blogging Muse just for gp.
• Mass email everybody in my "contacts" list an e-invite to my funeral.
• talk to my family and let them know individually how they inspired me, and made me the person i am.
• i'd consider converting to some religion, but i probably wouldn't.
• I probably wouldn't waste time trying to drive around Atlanta catchin' up with people, cause most of my time would be in traffic, so i'd have a good day with the kids (videotaped), and have a real good evening with them missus (also videotaped, hopefully i remember to put in a new tape for this one).

I ain't gonna make this one of those list of people, who i require to post on their blog responses.... but i will make a list of people i'd like to see respond... and you better do it, or suffer the consequences....

Ms. Nikki, My man G, GeorgiaPeace (i mean GeorgiaPeach), Brea, NSanleeSane, Hassan, Abeni, and all the other folk who stop through my little corner of the world wide web.

Let me know if ya'll do it. so i'll be on the lookout.

Peace.

Her presence froze me
cold winds smoothed her rough edges
i could not unthaw

peace.

i decided to post a poem, but since i didn't want to post some old stuff i figured i'd try and freestyle one.... wish me luck.

i'll make it a love poem...

i want a love that moves me forward.

i want a love that teaches,
reaches,
stretches,
and caresses
me.

i want a love that touches,
clutches,
envelops,
and develops
me.

i want a love,
that shower's me.
shower's me like a summer rain,
both cooling my soul,
and leaving remnants of its presence for all to see.

i want a love,
that empower's me,
emboldens me,
embeds itself in me,
a love that empties me.

i want a love that tells me when it's time to stop, look, and listen...



Peace.

"...when it hits you fell no pain."-- Bob Marley, Trenchtown Rock

As much as I admire and love Bob Marley; As much as I love the relevance and timelessness of his music and message; I'm beginning to see some untruth in this line.

Maybe because Bob recorded Trenchtown Rock in the 70's, years before the "Bling" era of rap music, he probably couldn't find much fault in making such a statement. But, my how times have changed. If there's anything that's causing me pain, it has to be music right now. Music playing on the radio right is killin' my spirit right now, and the fact that my CD player is not working properly, i'm kinda in a position where i either drink the "kool-aid" or die of thirst.

Since i really ain't down with the mass suicide that today's radio is assisting so many people with, I've been getting familiar with some Country Music.

Quick side note.... did ya'll know there is a country song called "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk"?? Dang, even country music is jackin' hiphop culture!

So I decided to list just a few of the most euthanising songs i've heard:

1. One of the worst is this song called Give me that Pussy (*excuse the language*). With lyrics like--
"...She might go back to the telly(hotel) with me,
Shake her jelly(body) with me,
Let my people bust(ejaculate) on her face and her belly with me..."

and, a chorus that tells women to "Give me that Pussy...", I can see how this can be considered radio friendly.

2. Next, is Gettin' Some Head. Now this song is not nearly as offensive as Give me that Pussy, but it's damn near close. It really just shows us how far backwards music as gone. I remember a time when this song wouldn't get played on the radio because of censorship, or if it was played, it was at the ass-crack of night. Nowadays I wouldn't be surprised to hear some high school band playing this at a football game.

3. Any of the songs that are out, or have been out recently glorifying the "Trap" life. The Trap is new slang for the hood or any drug-ridden, impoverished area. It originates out of the South, but i've heard my homeboy see people in Boston rock t-shirts with "TrapStar" written across them. I really hate the over glorification of criminal behavior that we seem to be constantly bombarding ourselves with. Isn't it bad enough that we call it the "trap"? Doesn't that signify something greater than a neighborhood? Maybe a "rat-trap", or a "mental-trap", and possibly even a "boobie-trap"... in other words, traps are cannot be a good place to be. Because you are then at the will of the "trapper".

Maybe i can't hold it against Brother Bob's famous lyrics, i mean may be it's a logic problem. Music does not cause pain. Some rap causes pain. Some rap is not music. Makes sense to me.

That's it for now. I'm sorry to realize that all the selected material for this post was formulated from the minds of the South. I'm am sure every region plays a part in this spreading of this self-inflicting-mind-deteriorating-culturally-genocidal epidemic, but since this is where i'm at, i have to talk what i know and what i hear.

Peace.

"...jokes on you I'm Still Alive,..." --Kanye West (We Don't Care)

I've been on this planet in the "physical" form, now, for 28 years... And guess what? I ain't dead yet! That's right. I know i don't blog that often, so some might consider me dead at times, but low and behold, I return.

Aside from actually being here today, here are a few more accomplishments I can be proud to exclaim:

1. I haven't been convicted of a felony, yet. This one was easy. But i'm sure most of us know the alarming number of black male's sitting behind bars. I mean, black men make up 12% of the population, but amass 44% of those incarcerated in this country, so I'm happy to have been able to escape that path for this long. I know that their are lots of statistics that contribute to these number's, but yet and still, i have thus far been able to steer clear of this one.
2. I ain't dead yet. I remember in the late 80's and early 90's statistics saying that 2 in 10 Black children won't make it to the ripe ol' age of 25. As a 13 year old kid, that shit damn near blew me away. I started counting my friends, and wondering which of us wasn't gonna make it. It wasn't til later that statistics aren't always national, sometimes it only applies to a certain region. I can see why some of my friends went to do crimes and get real wreckless, because if you only got 10 years left, might as well enjoy that shit.
3. I actually have a job. With the employment rate for Black men nearly triple than that of their white counterparts, and the quick and mostly ridiculous media reports assumptions, i can kinda understand why Black boys don't have a clue what to do with thier lives. I think i was lucky to have people in my life who could tell me about all types of careers to follow. But to many, thiers nobody they can see or interact with who's an Engineer, or a Pharmacist, or a AstroPhysicist. So if you don't see it, how can you be it? Thus the reason for the love of wanting to be an athlete or a rapper.

So in conclusion... there is much for me to be happy for at the young-old-age of 28... i mean 29.. dang i gotta get used to that number.

***Oh yeah i'd like to thank all the staticians out there for depressing Black people for all these years!!!

Peace.