Lost work found and shared

Poem 3

Is it the way I run away from my decisions once made?

Is it the way my hip refuse to sway?

Is it the train of the distance?

Was it a Harlem renascence?

Was it freedom in my path I searched for?

Look for?

In the middle of an ancient war against pain.

Depression sounds like a baby squealing away at its lungs.
Screaming voices among me as the next feelings of unsung destiny.

The best of me.

I yet to see in this place.

Patience and Grace befell my taste of hastiness.

I was never in complete bliss.

I made hissing sounds at the American Dream.

It seems simple without a single wrinkle.

I figured out the route to happiness was just a phase.

And I craved it.

Is it the way tears fell from her eyes?

Is it the way I never had a chance to say goodbye?

Is it the way death to my soul?

Holding me.

Providing deadly console.

Poem 4

As I sit here.

Miles Davis ringing in my ears.

Dare not shed a tear for you.

Dare not care for the dilemma.

I placed myself inside you.

Feelings of a confused soul sorting out of control.

And I’m left speechless by your actions.

Left completely alone in my room once more.

Once I felt the body that graced mine with warmth.

Once it might not have meant shit to you.

But I’m still in denial.

Still in utter shock from my vison of you with someone else to come true.

A prophet’s worst fear.

Some once foreseen in his visionary dream.

I see it as fate begins to take wing.

My face still froze with guilt.

I fooled myself.

Fooled my senses.

Fueled by make-believe worlds I drift off in while riding the bus.

And fuck it.

I admit I thought you might just see me.

The real thing that hands you whatever I got to offer.

I’m standing here with my heart.

 In my right pocket hiding it from you.

Lost work found and shared.

April 1st, 2019

Today I want to try something different.
 A project. I hope to finish this. Call it a project. Something I thought of.

Here we go.

Finding my pass work around the house, balled up work forms I wrote on and so forth.

Poem 1

The limbic system is all twisted up and tangled in my head.

While awake.

While asleep.

While at work at day’s peak.

I’m feeling lonely without my bed.

With my pillows, I feel comfort above anybody I lay next to at night.

I hear a voice whispering my name as my eyes begin to open to the morning,

I hear my name, soul and body recognized as mine.

My dreams have handed me back to the world and left me.

Wanting for them to remain how they were.

The dreams.

Yet they are calling my name as they are drifting.

Going further and further into the distance.

First LOUD!

Then further away.

Then gone completely.

This was the daily routine.

The pattern to which I live.

Dreams to keep me warm at night.

To comfort me as I fall ill.

I’ve always had them.

They never let me down before.

Poem 2

While my eardrums are buzzing from musical static.

Music is playing soft tunes just for me.

 Quickly I sat there watching each worldly idea pop inside my head.

And wheels are rolling on the pavements.

Rubber is burning out screeching.

Across the street from my studio apartment.

And I’m waiting for you to come back for me.

Honestly, I’m not sure you will,

 single-minded objectives make the unpredictable dangerous.

Truth is unexplainable in the eyes of the fool.

Only more and more foolishness to spread.

Kings and Jesters are running amuck, like porn sites

And fuck the lust.

For its all for the love of money.

The only thing that gives us hope is satisfaction

Which is why it’s so hard to get.

Truth is suddenly ignored and spoken for by CNN with FOX eyed Fox News

At 5, the media only wants to go public.

The land is only getting more toxic.

Is it the secret of the universe or just chance.

December 15th 2018

Creating artistic work calls for keeping yourself engaged with life in my opinion. It’s what separates writers from crazed  

Given the choice of companionship, I prefer a dog. An experiment on this theory lead me to such companion but I will get on with that part a bit later. For now, Let’s jump to a few weeks back. Recently, I had two jobs in the restaurant industry and a third on the political side.

I was working a part-time job at a local pizzeria and had just made it to work as I’ve done many times before. That day was a bit different because the workers gathered outside before the workday.

A dog had found it’ s way onto the property. A mixed-gray Pitbull sat next to the dumpster right around Halloween and became comfy with one of the servers. She said he seemed trained and neutered meaning that he had an owner but as I live in Hapeville and work in College Park.(Literally a mile away) I failed to have seen any signs of a missing dog afterword.  I offer to take the dog in as I have recently been deprived of roommates as of lately. The girl refused my offer and said she wanted it, which only seemed fair since she was the on to approach it first.

Fast Forward to two days ago. I have arrived at my job which at this point had cut my hours and practically forced me to find a second job, and was asked a weird question.

“When is your birthday?”

I answered confused but honest.

“How would you like a late birthday present?”

I answered again, honest, still a little confused. She responds that she can no longer keep the dog due to her neighbors in her apartments telling the leasing office of her secret pet.

I said yes, then after a crazy turn of events following this, I get fired from the job.

 The moment after this, I was torn, as I have thought of getting a dog for months and have only bought it online. For me to have a dog without having to pay is one thing. But to gain it on the day I lost my job was strange as if now that you got what you want, there’s no need for this place.

P.S. I’m not concerned about the job loss. The small hours I got there weren’t worth it.

Connection to character

October 9th 2018 DRIP

As I said before, working on this new story has brought up some interesting questions about my character, What premise I'm using, and recently what supporting character can come out of the two.  Love Interest, Mentor, Reflection, and the other supporting characters have made question my story seems weird to me.

The more I write this story out about my main character, I feel like I'm diving more and more into myself and I'm going to honest, I'm not liking what I'm discovering. The love interest in my life isn't anyone who falls into the definition.  The definition is the person who inspires your character to finish his outer journey.  No this isn't a blog about being lonely, Its one about asking myself questions on my journey. Does it mean that I am lacking human connection? Does it mean that I don't want human connection or consider it overrated? As I look at my extended family and their family's on social media, I can only look at them in their apparent happiness yet I do not envy them.

Do we actually need supporting people in our lives to reach goals we set for ourselves, or are we simply finding reasons to connect such as dreams and adventure-ish journeys to bring them along on or use as a reason to go on them?

Beginning a fresh story.

In the Master's Program, I'm given an opportunity to create something new. I plan on taking full advantage of it. My newest project "Codename: Vamps" is one on revenge and cruelty. From a creative standpoint, the term cruelty particularly appeals to a broader scope and argument I have had with a former roommate. "What would you consider the worst case of cruelty when it came to slavery?" Obviously, that's a leap but I'll do my best.

Slavery has existed since the bronze age and even as far back as stories included in the holy book referring to it as slavery.6800 B.C. and since then, it is still used today. His argument, Black Slaves in the early days of America was worst. Mine, No way.

I am black and I understand that pain and unspeakable level of hell brought down upon my ancestors but there are other things throughout history that have not only exceed it but downright outlast it on a grander scale. Never the less there I was. Dealing with this debate turned scabble, turned debate, turned to agree to disagree.

My story, however, goes for the former point made about the slaves since because I was taught that throughout my early education and it being my history, I thought, this will get them mad.

A vampire story that takes place on American in the south pre Civil War.  A Huckleberry Finn meets Dracula if you will. I dare to. If you want to see the characters check out my pintrest page.

Birthday, Other days, and suddenly on my own.

Birthday, Other days, and suddenly on my own.

October 7th, 2018

In the modern day society of millennials, people are swayed to the notion of sharing living quarters with each other. This, of course, has a huge impact on the people as a whole but we carry on with our wits to do better. My birthday has passed and for it, I did karaoke at a bar not too far from my home with good longtime friends, and one certain friend that was new. He rode a motorcycle home drunk for two hours after we were done. insanity people. After of course, everyone left and went home.  The was another I really wanted to .be there be he couldn't make it.

Lately, I have been looking for something in other arts and artist for inspiration. a moment of the true aspiring tale of people who came together to be a better part of themselves. I don't know if I believe in that anymore as I am once again plagued by loneliness as if my imagination will keep me talking through the wee hours as I awake trying to create something special and all inspiring to the human experience.

I am rooming alone now. It just me. So how would I actually be able to write about human stories if I have no human around to imagine them with? It's a question I present to you readers. If you're out the reading these words? What do you think?