The Called.

I can feel a shift in the ground
Under my feet
Hastening me to look down
And see that it is time

To run.

When the universe wants you to be
You are called
And you must answer

And become.

The clouds over Buffalo

At this very moment
As I type this
I am high
Literally
High off the sky
Flying like birds fly
Meeting with clouds
And watching them glow
Clouds glow you know?
When the sun comes out the sky glows like rowling angry smoky dust off of clittering hoofs
Poufy and fierce, but aglow
Shimery with shades of grey
Oh how I wish you could see this
And just like that!
Almost as if to remind me that life is short,
The sights are gone
In its old place, now stands blank whiteness.
Whiteness.
Oh what an ironic world!
Whiteness over Buffalo.

09/02/2011

Stop time on time in time.

You can hold it, ask it to take a breather, have a sit and have it do nothing.
You can run it, or let it run you and have you trying to catch up to it and maybe if you’re lucky you may even make it.
You can.
Ask time to stop.
It will keep ticking, for everyone else while you go ahead and retrace your steps...
Going back in time isn’t something technology can afford to offer us yet some of us are living the retro travels each minute
Like me.
Maybe you?
Who knows, maybe them too.
Its one thing to let it stop for you... the boredom kills, you start to feel like you’re in some sort of a space mill.
Drugged on dreams, drunk on regrets and anger of knowing that even when you resume, you’ll still be as behind as the length of time you stopped the time.
It cant ever be thesame, but... well, but... the other option was not going to be a breeze.
Today, I feel like I have retraced my steps. Today, I feel like my errors, have been undone. I feel redeemed. Though I still have regrets, instead of regreting where I am, I am regreting not stoping time in time on time.

Still, I thank God that my efforts have not been in vain. Thank God for a great family, great friends and an even greater drive. Thank God that God isnt spiteful because I truly, dont deserve this. I'm so blessed.

Finally, I am right where I left off.

09/02/2011

The "skinny"

I cant say that I ever knew how
But I knew that I wanted to.

I remember once, rehearsing the conversation in my mind
But the strength to speak never did get actualized

We'd go out and she'd drink
And I'd pretend that I didnt see what she was not having

It worked.
She worked.
Day.
Night.

Anything to keep the urge away.

But it doesnt matter, really.
She is still here.
And is still my girl.
And the skinny bitch may have "issues".
But she's my girl
But human is as human does.


18/07/2011

Pony Ride

Observed your twists, watched your silhouette form as you blocked out the moon
Watched it reappear behind you
Began to love seeing it disappear behind you
As I winced in pain
Began to crave it still
Though the pain was excruciating
Watching you ride on
Watching you
Craving you

You took me for a ride, you
Though I cried, you rode on still
Long enough
Hard enough
I just couldn’t, satisfy you
You reached over, and in the dark, feeling on my sheets
You grabbed her
And suddenly, I realized
I wish it did not take me so long
I wish I had known what I knew all along

I realized then
You are not the god I thought you’d be
Amongst the lowest of the low
Beneath the ground, underneath the earth
Crawling with the worms, though underserving of that
You wore the devil’s shell ever so well
Deceit at it’s best
You acted out the god I needed then
One hell of a mirage
Shatan was this man.

So on this day as I move through my daily routine
Washing the dishes, and fixing the holes in my walls
I realize, that I changed on the avenue that is you
I did, I changed, I did
Something within me was made anew
Something dark, deceitful, and blue

But the sun is out today
And the trees are begging in your name
Asking for a new breeze to be let through
The birds are chirping new songs
Nothing familiar; all new
And my face is dry, no more streaming
I am healed, the wounds are scars
I can speak your name without hate
I can sleep without dreaming everynight of the numerous ways you could be found dead at the street corner

Do you understand?

Somewhere along the way
I had stopped wondering what could have been
See,
Life took over
Time pulled me through
Somewhere along the way
I had forgiven you.


26/09/2011

We breed these.

Dark, loud, fashion artists.
Lovers of bigger rides than their pants...
bigger whips than their dicks.

Stuck in the mud of their ways
Dying of the historic stench of bullshit
Bull... shit.

Love to dominate
Hate to advance past anything that is white
Idolize anything that isnt them
Halleluyah-tipped shoe rockers
Bull... shit.

A'we'a breed the ones who dont see
Blinder than a spot
They never fail to forget who bred them.
It is no fault of theirs.
So I guess

Weeeeeak!
Meager in thoughts though louder than roars
They'd call your bluff only to run when you come
Selfish beings that don't know just how to care.
Just HOW to care.

Void of feeling.
Users.

Void of shame.
Such cruel beings.

They'd use "history!" and call on memories of our forefathers
To justify the horrors of their ways.
Yet claim that history is to be abandoned
As they go ahead, and break the rules of our cultures.

For the most part, our men are wack.
But it really isn't their fault.
Afterall,
we breed them.
So I guess.

Whats it to you?

The love that you show me.
Amazing.
The things you teach me.
How forgiving, and relentlessly caring.
How easily you are able to be
So gentle
So warm
So expressive
Its...in the love that you show me.
Amazing.

The world we live in.
Amazing.
365 days of finger pointing.
Yet patiently, we say, awaiting judgement day.
How can that truly be?
Confusing.
Cold
Beyond me.
Its...the world we live in.
Amazing.

The things I wonder about.
Amazing,
How love can be hated so deeply
As poverty abounds, fiercely digging early graves
Weakened fingers and all
Here we are, hating on love
Silly
Isnt it?

...to exhale.

If I hold on
And heave
and a ho
And push
and a shove

Just for four more months.

I just might soon realize
That four months, is only but a short time to breath.

testing

testing testing

This Introspective Language.

Quieter than a whisper
Far more solemn than a ballad
These interactions within myself
Quietly so, solemn so.
I was once asked
What language we speak
Both me and I, when we converse and…
I cant truly say I know
Because I don’t see myself uttering words
Telepathically, you may say,
I just say a hello
And I know, without a doubt, that myself too, is responding…

“hey ma’am, how you been since the last time we ‘seen?”